#...this has reminded me to order codeine

[4th-make-quail]

moved downstairs to sit at the bureau cos my leg is HURTINGGGG but i'm sat on two pillows on the stool and now i'm way taller than my laptopppp and it's hurting me back, can't have shit in this body!!!!

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xvi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara’s not a good patient. You should know this by now. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder, Smut (18+), vaginal fingering, pussy-eating, face-sitting. Sweet!sex, bottom!Tara if you squint.

word count: 3.8k

a/n: bringing back sexy-time, because poor Tara needs a break. as always, thanks for all the love :))

Tara’s not a good patient. You should know this by now. 

She whines about not being able to stand up by herself. Snaps when her nurse - Nurse Dawson, suggests a sponge bath. Begrudgingly lets you help her shower. 

She hates the hospital food and refuses to eat Sam’s organic, non-gluten, non-dairy, non-fun pasta-bake when she shows up with it. Instead, she orders DoorDash to her hospital room  three nights in a row. 

And on the fourth night, when the doctor tells her she has to stay another night, her fist curls, daggers in her eyes. 

“You know why they’re doing this?” She says, voice hot as the slew of doctors and nurses leave the room, “It’s a money-grab. The longer they keep me here, the more money they get off of the Insurance payout.” 

“They’re keeping you here because you have a stab-wound in your stomach,” You say, firmly. You smooth her hair out of her face, touch her red cheeks with your fingertips, “And I want you here too. You’re not 100%, baby, you need to rest and recover.” 

“I feel fine,” She complains, with a huff, “Sure, my stomach hurts, but that’s what the Codeine is for, right?” 

You lean in and kiss her, soft. Climb into the hospital bed with her, your head on her shoulder. 

“Why don’t we watch a movie? That always makes you feel better.” 

Tara runs her hand down your arm, presses her lips to your forehead. Then squeezes your side, suggestively. 

“You know what would make me feel better?” She says, voice low, “If you took off all your clothes.”

“I’m sure Nurse Dawson would love that.” You say. 

Her hand catches your wrist, trying to hold you in place. 

“Please.” She murmurs, “My stomach hurts and all I want is for you to sit on my face.” 

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sam interjects as she enters the room. She has another pasta-bake in hand. 

Your face flames red. Tara's lips purse. 

“If you think I’m eating that-”

Sam shushes her, presses her lips to Tara’s forehead. 

“It’s good for you. Much better than the shit you’ve been eating. I made this one special, regular pasta, just for you.” 

Tara tilts her head, looks over at the pasta suspiciously. 

“It has gluten? And real cheese?”

“Real cheese and extra gluten. I made a kale and apple salad to pair with it-”

Tara groans, tilting her head back to the pillow. 

“Sam, why can’t you just make regular food for regular people?” She complains, but takes a helping all the same. You sit up as Sam hands you a plate, careful not to spill it all over Tara’s bedsheets. 

Sam settles into the seat next to the bed, watching. 

“Ran into the Sheriff in the hall,” She says, “They don’t have any suspects.” 

Sheriff Hicks’ visits had been regular since Tara got hurt. She’d seemed wide-eyed, upset, no doubt seeing Tara in a hospital bed had reminded her of her own missing son. She’d come in three days in a row, hat in hand to deliver the same news. 

The police had no leads.

“I know,” Tara says, mouth full, “She won’t leave us alone, will she, YN? Keeps coming in here asking me to repeat what happened over and over.” 

“She posted extra police on the door,” You say, “There’s five of them now.”

“Each as useless as the next,” Tara says under her breath. She frowns, “Sam are you sure this is real cheese? It tastes like shit.” 

You’d smack her, if you weren’t afraid you were going to hurt her wound. Instead you shoot her a look. 

“Babe.” You chide. 

Sam rolls her eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” She says, then she looks to you, “Where are your parents?” 

“They’ve gone home to shower,” You say, “They’ll be back a little later.” 

“Speaking of people who won’t leave us alone…” Tara mutters. You shoot her another look. 

“Good,” Sam says, firmly, “The last thing you need is to be left alone when there’s a maniac running around.”

She pauses, looks at Tara, seriously. 

“When you get out of the hospital, I want you to come back home. With me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere without YN.” Tara says. She puts her plate to the nightstand, wiping her mouth with her hand. 

“So she can come home too.” Sam says, “Richie’s not there, I’m done with him. I need to be near you, Tara, I need to be able to protect you.” 

Tara looks at you. 

“What do you think? Will your parents go for it?” 

You chew your lip. Your Dad hadn’t let you out of his sight for less than an hour since the attack. He’d bought two more shotguns and an industrial style alarm system the night after it had happened. 

“Probably not,” You say, honestly, “I think he’s seriously contemplating installing iron bars on my window.” 

Tara looks back at Sam and shrugs. 

“Sorry.” 

Sam doesn’t look happy. 

“Fat lot of good all that security did last time,” Sam says, “Ghostface slipped right in. It’s all well and good having an alarm system and a gun, but it’s not enough. You need to have someone who actually knows how to use it.” 

Tara’s hand brushes through your hair. 

“It would be nice to go home,” She murmurs, “Maybe you could talk to your Dad? We have an alarm at the house, and it would be easy enough to buy the same locks he has. Sam’s a good shot and she has a lot of guns.” 

You sigh. The prospect of telling your Dad you’re leaving home four nights after a Ghostface attack scares you a little. 

“I can try,” You say, voice resigned. If for nothing else but for poor Sam. You can’t imagine not being in the same house as Tara, not being there to protect her if needed. You know Sam must be going out of her mind. 

“Thank you.” Sam says.

-

“No.” 

You blink. You’d taken your Dad out into the hallway when he’d come back. Told him there was something you needed to tell him. And then not even got halfway into your sentence when he interrupted you. 

“But Dad-”

“If you think I’m letting you go anywhere that isn’t school, you’re out of your mind.” He says, voice stern, “In fact, I’m half considering pulling you out of school all together. Mom googled some good home-schooling courses last night.” 

“Dad, Sam is really worried about Tara,” You plead, “Really worried. Tara said she has an armory at the house. We’d be safe there with her.” 

“The answer is no, YN.” He says, sounding aggravated, “If Tara wants to go home and be with her sister, that’s her choice. But you’re not going anywhere."

You stare. 

“I’m eighteen, Dad, you can’t tell me what to do anymore.” 

He stares back at you. It isn’t often you challenge him like this. You can see the wheels behind his eyes turning, like if he’s not careful you’ll storm off and never come home again. His jaw clenches, then he looks over to Sam and Tara.

He sighs.

“Look - I’m happy for Sam to come stay with us for a few days, if she’s really worried. We can make up the guest room.” He offers. 

You know it's as good as you're going to get.

And so it’s settled. 

Sam accepts, almost immediately. The promise of being near enough to Tara to keep her safe, alluring. She leaves that night to pack, promising to be back in the morning to help bring Tara home. 

When she returns, it’s to you and Nurse Dawson trying to fight Tara into a wheelchair. 

“Baby, it’s just to the car.” You say, hands firm as you lower her into it. Nurse Dawson, she’d fight, but you? She settles for crossing her arms like an angry child. You press a kiss to her forehead, and let Nurse Dawson wheel her outside.  

“This is ridiculous.” Tara grumbles the entire way down, “I can stand, I’m not an invalid.”

“Hospital policy.” Says Nurse Dawson, cheerfully. She’s in a better mood than you’ve seen her in all week, no doubt relieved her moody, pouty, storm-cloud of a patient is finally being discharged. She turns to you. 

“Make sure to clean the wound once a day, like I showed you. Redress and make sure she doesn’t engage in any strenuous activity. If there’s any redness or swelling, bring her right back in.” 

You nod. 

Nurse Dawson squeezes Tara’s shoulders, helps her up into the car, Sam at her other side. 

“I can do it,” Tara snaps, retracting from both of them. She slumps down into the back seat, wincing as she hits the fabric too hard. Her hand draws to her wound. 

You climb into the other side of the car, reach over to help her put on her seatbelt. 

“Say thank-you.” You mumble, look pointed as Nurse Dawson hovers by the car door.

Tara huffs, looks over to the Nurse. 

“Thank you.” She says, not sounding like she means it at all.

-

Sam takes to your family home like a moth to a flame. 

She helps your Dad set up his new security equipment. Trudges in a small suitcase full of guns and offers him a pistol in lieu of his shotgun. She helps your mother make dinner - to Tara’s horror - and even clears the plates, trying to wash the dishes before your Mother shoos her upstairs. 

You help Tara settle into one of the kitchen stools and grab a dishcloth, pulling out Sam’s pre-made vegan cheesecake from the fridge. Tara makes a face.

“Sam is a lovely girl,” Your mother gushes, arm deep in dishwater, “Why haven’t we met her before?” 

Tara crosses her arms, frowning slightly. Pout on her lips. She’s been like this all dinner. Withdrawn. Glaring at Sam from across the table each time your Dad offers her the faintest of compliments. 

“She’s fine.” Tara says, voice loaded, “Other than the drugs and the huge drinking problem-”

“Tara.” You hiss, as your mother looks back, wide-eyed, “She’s kidding Mom, Sam doesn’t have a drinking problem.” 

“Oh.” Says your mother. She wipes her hands against the dish-towel, “Good.” 

She pauses. Hovers. 

“Excuse me a moment.” 

She leaves the room in a flurry, no doubt to go and hide her bottles of aged-Sherry. You move closer to Tara, flick her hand with your finger. 

“What did you say that for?” You groan, “They like Sam. That’s a good thing.”

“They like her more than me.” She says, pouting, “I’m your girlfriend, not her. They’re supposed to like me the best.” 

“They like you fine.” You lie. She squints, shooting you a look.  

“Who cares what they think, anyway?” You say, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I like you more than her and that’s all that matters, right?” 

She considers this. Smiles, slightly. 

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

You lean down and kiss her. 

-

Sam’s room is just down the hall. 

She wants to sleep in your room, you can tell by the way she keeps hinting to Tara over dessert how much fun their little camping sleepovers in the living room were when they were kids. 

When Sam hovers in the doorway near bedtime, Tara groans and snaps at her to go back to her own room. 

“It’s safer if I’m in here with you,” Sam insists. She has her pistol holstered on her hip and she keeps touching it like she’s ready for Ghostface to jump out at any second, “I can protect you both.” 

“I have a gun too.” Tara waves it about, “We’ll be fine. I’ll yell if I need you.”

“Look how well that turned out last time,” Sam says, gesturing to the bandage wrapped around Tara’s waist. 

“Boundaries, Sam.” Tara grumbles, “We’ve talked about this. I can’t breathe when you’re suffocating me like this.” 

Sam huffs. 

“Fine.” She says, and storms back to her own room in a sulk.

“Finally.” Tara says, falling back into the pillows. She draws you down with her, “We’re finally alone.” 

“And going to sleep.” You say, pointedly, “You need your rest.” 

“I feel fine, baby,” Tara insists, “I feel good. And I missed you.” 

“I’ve been with you this entire time,” You say, eyes fluttering closed as she presses her lips to your neck. 

“I know, but I’ve missed you.”

“Tara-” You protest, slightly, “Your stomach-”

“Is fine.” Tara assures. She draws you down into a languid kiss. Squeezes your hips, trying to tilt you over, “There’s nothing wrong with my mouth.” 

“That I know,” You say, raising an eyebrow, “You’ve been running it all day.” 

Tara pouts. You kiss it away. Then draw your hands down her legs, gently climbing atop her. You've missed her too.

“Promise me you’ll lay back and not move too much. Nurse Dawson said no strenuous activity.” 

She nods, mouth falling open slightly at the way you draw her panties down her legs. 

“Good girl.” You whisper against her lips, and then you’re kissing your way down her body. 

You’re gentle with her, so careful not to touch her wound, or move her in a way that will hurt her. 

Her skin is soft, warm, still slightly reddened from the heat of her shower. You brush your lips down her thighs and then kiss your way to her center. She’s not wet, not yet, so you run your hands over her hips, suck lovingly on her inner thighs. Ghost your lips over her folds until you can see evidence of your efforts. Sticky, wet syrup that coats her entrance. The fruits of your labor. 

“Don’t tease, babe.” Tara says, desperately. She’s on her elbows, looking down at you. You flinch as the bandage on her stomach creases. 

“You promised you’d lay back,” You say, hurrying back up to press her down. She draws you in to kiss her, needy, fingers digging into your shoulders as she slips her tongue between your lips. 

“Come up here,” She says, voice low, “Turn around so I can eat you out.” 

Your stomach flips with arousal. She’s moving up, trying to draw you up over her face. But you resist.

“Your stomach, baby-girl,” You murmur against her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She huffs. 

“The only thing hurting me is the severe lack of pussy I’ve been not getting for the last four days-” 

“Romantic.” You say, dryly, pulling away from her, “You’ll stay not getting it unless you lie back for me and don’t move. Like a good girl.” 

She bites her lip. Nods, slow. 

You press your lips to hers. Then tilt your way down her body. You stop at her nipples, take them between your lips and suck down until they’re pebbled, hard, and you can feel her wetness against your thigh. 

“Baby.” She groans as you skip right over where she wants you to kiss the inside of her knee. 

“Good girls are patient,” You remind her, drawing her legs over your shoulders. 

She peers down at you, eyebrows raised, “And when have I ever been a good girl?”

She lets out a sharp gasp as you run your tongue along her folds, gently dragging her syrupy wetness up to her clit. Her head falls back onto the pillow, her hands reaching down to clutch a fistful of your hair. Her thighs around your head tighten as you gently run your tongue over her clit. 

Experimental. 

You resist the urge to sigh at her taste. She’s perfect. Sweet and bitter, all at once. You dip down to her entrance, wanting more of it on your tongue. 

You kiss her velvety folds, drag your tongue along her length. Her fingers in your hair are insistent. She presses you down, further into her, writhing only slightly as you take her clit between your lips. 

She likes it harder than this, usually. But you’re slow this time. Gentle. You want to make her cum, softly as you can, without straining her. You want to make love to her. Show her how much you adore her, how glad you are that she's okay.

The way she’s sighing, moans breathy, it seems to be working. 

You alternate between sucking softly on her clit, then swirling your tongue in quiet, gentle circles. It isn’t long before Tara’s moaning out your name quietly, thighs tightening around your head. 

You lick her once more, clean her up, not wanting to waste a drop of her. 

When you kiss your way back up to her body, she’s slumped against the pillows, chest rising steadily. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You trail your fingertips across her cheek, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

She shakes her head, still a little hazy. 

You look down at her bandage, rub the edges of the fabric, gently. It’s still clean, no blood. You press another kiss to her lips, rubbing her hip. 

“Up here.” She says, trying to pull you up, “I want to go down on you so bad.” She says, breathless. Her hands work down to pull you out of your sleep shorts, tossing your underwear to the side, carelessly. You settle into the spot next to her, take her hand and guide it between your legs. 

“Let’s stay like this,” You murmur, tilting her cheek in your hand, “I want to kiss you.” 

And it's true. You want her as close as possible. You want it to be romantic. You want her lips on you and her fingers inside you. You want to be encompassed by her smell and her taste. You want to be reminded that she's here. She's alive and in your arms.

She complies with a soft nod.

You close your eyes. Her hands between your legs feel like magic. You’re soaked, the way you always got after you went down on her. She rubs her fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal. You kiss her furiously, sucking down gently on her bottom lip as her fingers work against your clit. 

You groan into her mouth. This, you never got tired of. Kissing Tara, feeling the press of her bare skin against yours. Her lips are as talented as her fingers, her tongue against the seam of your lips flooding you once more as she grazes her fingers upwards, and slips them inside of you. 

The angle is a little awkward, but you don’t care. You rut yourself into her hand, hand around her neck as you kiss. She keeps trying to sit up, you know she wants nothing more than to climb on top of you and fuck you into the mattress. But you hold her down, keep her where you want her. 

You break the kiss as you get close, moan out into the milky skin of her neck. She curls her fingers, then uses her thumb to rub your clit, gently. It hits you like a freight train. You close your eyes, gasp out her name as stars explode behind your eyes. The shock that flushes through you is red, warm. 

You all but collapse into her side, curling a protective arm around her bare waist. She kisses the top of your head, lovingly, then withdraws her fingers. Brings them to her lips and sucks you off them, eyes flashing with arousal at your taste. 

“Now, can I go down on you?” She asks, hopefully. 

You kiss her, “Maybe later, baby.”

She hums, a little disappointed. 

“My belly hurts a little,” She says, voice small. At this, you sit up, concern flashing through your face. 

“Oh, baby.” You say, looking down to inspect the wound, “I am so sorry. I knew it was too soon for this-”

“No,” She says, hurriedly, “That isn’t what I meant. You didn’t hurt me. I just meant I’d feel better if I went down on you, is all.” 

You stare at her for a moment. Then you smack her arm, gently. 

“You’re such an asshole. I was about to go downstairs for more Codeine.” 

“No Codeine needed. Just you,” She pulls you back down to her, eyes wide, pleading, “Please, baby.” 

You sigh. She’s rubbing your arm, big brown eyes wide, the eyes she flashes at you when she wants something. You press down and kiss her. How could you resist her? She’d just been stabbed for you, after all. 

Her hands squeeze your hips. She sits up, tries to push you over onto the bed. Then she winces as it pulls at her wound the wrong way. 

“Shh, baby, just gently.” You say, easing her back against the pillows. 

You press another kiss to her lips. 

“Come up to me,” She murmurs, hands around your thighs. This time you don’t resist. You tilt your body up, shuffle over her head and let her pull you down, hands locked around your thighs like she wants to keep you in place. 

You grasp at the headboard. 

She moans as her mouth meets your clit. Arousal flushes through you at just how badly she wants this. How badly she needs this. 

She doesn’t waste any time.

You’re already soaked, body still thrumming from the first orgasm she’d given you. You close your eyes, tilt your head back as she lovingly sucks down on you, her fingers splayed against your ass, as she’s trying to pull you in as close as she can get. 

You’re embarrassingly close after only a couple of minutes, body flushed red, hands on your own breasts as you ride her face. You cum with a quiet whine, let her lick and suck her way through your orgasm. 

When it’s over, you slump down into the spot next to her, tilting your head into her shoulder. She licks her lips, cleans you off her. And then nudges her nose against yours, pressing the sweetest of kisses against your lips. 

“I love you,” She murmurs. 

“I love you, too.” You say. Kiss her again. 

She’s a little sleepy. You’ve worn her out. You touch her hip, checking on her dressing once more. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, brushing the strands of dark hair out of her face. 

“It never hurt, I just wanted you to sit on my face,” She admits with a yawn. 

You smile, slightly, entwine your fingers. 

“I know that, genius, you’re hardly Charles Ponzi.”

“Who?” Tara asks, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes droop slightly. You press one more kiss to her lips. 

“Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.” 

“I’m taking first watch,” Tara says, immediately. 

“You’re taking second watch, because you blew it the first time by not waking me up.” You say, settling into her side, “Go to sleep.” 

She relents, dropping her head to the pillow with a tired hum. 

“We should invite Chad, Liv and Mindy over tomorrow.” She says, voice suddenly weighted, “We need a plan.” 

“We don’t need them to have a plan.” You say after a moment. Mindy’s obsession with finding the killer scares you a little. What if she accidentally stumbled upon the truth? You’d rather keep her out of it. 

“I have a hole in my stomach, and a Sam permanently glued to my side,” Tara grumbles, “If we want to catch this guy, we need them.” 

The weight of reality is back. It’s easy to let it go when it’s just you and her, entwined like this. But the moment you stepped outside this room it fell on your shoulders like an anvil.

You’re not safe, Tara isn’t safe.

Not until you catch the fucker.

[sourbat]

A Discussion over Spoons

Characters: Toki Wartooth and Charles Offdensen

Words: 5470

Rating: T

Summary: After the events of Galatikon 2, the members of band are alive and in need of a place to offer them the care they need to heal. Charles is unconvinced that Magnus has what it takes to provide such a setting for Toki, and attempts to convince the latter with a discussion, using spoons.

Read it online on Ao3 (with added notes explaining spoon theory) 

This is technically a Hammertooth! Magnus just isn’t a huge, active force in this one. 

It was Salacia’s final curse that he bring down Dethklok with him, wiping each member off the face of the universe, reducing them to nothing, not even stardust. Though he failed in their literal destruction, the damage they received from saving the world assured Dethklok would never perform again, effectively “killing” the band, and dooming each member to a life of normalcy, and eventual obscurity. Before that though, there was the important question as to  whom  would be charged with looking after the injured heroes. There were ruptured vocal chords to consider, arms broken in several places, and crushed hands filled with splintered bones, and Mordhaus and its hospital had been burned to the ground. While most general hospitals were more than willing to accept a savior in their wing, the aftermath of their victory left most places understaffed and overwhelmed, and the injuries each man had received was nothing to scoff at. Bunching them together in one location was not possible.

Charles and the church immediately offered their support, and the band almost considered it, but then a call from the Explosions and Abigail had Nathan second-guessing, and Skwisgaar, despite being in far worse condition than the others, commented on wishing to go to regular hospital with a female staff.

They soon decided that all would go their separate ways for healing, taking refuge in whatever space they considered to be “home.” Nathan and Murderface would return to their respective families, and would visit the other whenever possible, to ensure the other’s sanity. Skwisgaar would go to whatever hospital was located within 15 miles of a sorority or a senior living community (he had no preference), and Charles would look after Pickles while simultaneously finding new ways to block the drummer’s mother from her insistent, passive-aggressive calls, demanding to know why her son didn’t think his family was “good enough” to look after him.

Toki didn’t have to think about where he would he go, because shortly after waking up from his coma he was told he’d always have a home if he needed one, and he’d never have to worry about paying rent or anything because he saved the world so it’s forever “on the house”–and then Toki groaned for more morphine–but even in his drugged-up haze he remembered Magnus going on and adding to a list of reasons why his place was always open to him. When Charles approached him, asking if he’d like to come along with him and Pickles, or maybe share a hospital room with Skwisgaar, Toki politely refused, instead slurring out Magnus’ address to his ex-manager, smiling at the fuzzy lights, the funny way Charles looked at him once he said it, and the even funnier way Charles pushed up his glasses, asking Toki if he was sure. Absolutely sure? Quite positive? Agreeable? And what about Nathan? Abigail? Murderface? Skwisgaar? Anyone else? Anyone in Norway he could rely on? Any friends? No, not Rockso, but someone else? Someone who can handle the stress?

Anyone, but Magnus?

---

Toki stared at the line of small, silver teaspoons laid out before him in the private office that had been set aside for this occasion. Across from him, Charles sat, hands cupped and covering a portion of his mouth as he glanced down at the same spoons, awaiting a specific command before making his move. Toki didn’t say it, but just knowing what Charles was going to do made him nervous, and he was hesitant to speak out of fear that their game would end sooner than later.

But he knew, no matter what, those eight spoons would vanish faster than he was prepared for.

“Well,” Charles sharply announced, eyes narrowing on Toki.  

“Uhm, wells,” Toki replied, instinctually raising his right hand, only to writhe and lurch forward in his seat once the metal rods holding it together stabbed at his nerves with a complimentary reminder of their presence. Charles’s hand appeared in his peripheral, gently rubbing Toki’s side, distracting him from some of the pain that shot up and wracked his strained nerves and muscles with sharp contractions.

“Left hand,” Charles gently reminded Toki. “Don’t forget, you’re a lefty until further notice.”

“Keeps forgettin,” Toki complained.

“Feeling better?” Charles asked, expression unwavering as he observed Toki’s crushed hand. Even with the cast and added coverings, it was an unbecoming sight, and it seemed like no amount of prescription painkillers offered to any of the guitarists could completely rid of the pain they suffered. “I can get you something,” Charles said, knowing deep down the implications of such an empty promise.

Toki shook his left hand. “No, ams good.”

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, then. That’s one,” Charles said, picking up a spoon and placing it aside as he settled back into his seat.

Toki blinked, mouth turning crookedly agape as he stared at the empty space where his eighth spoon once rested. “Buts I didn’t evens do anything,” he complained, raising his head up to Charles.

Charles sighed. “You’re in pain, Toki.”

Toki jerked in his seat. He winced, but wore that look that suggested a desire to kick something was there. Charles could tell a tantrum might be in order today, and kept that thought pinned high on the list of things he’d need to account for today. Medications. Moving things aside to make his home more wheelchair accessible. Toki having a fit.

“Yeah,” Toki angrily proclaimed, “buts you saids any actions I performs that affects Magnus–”

“And would your suffering not cause him to react?” Charles calmly interrupted, stopping Toki from raising his voice, possibly getting up from his seat too fast, or risking further injury. Charles waited for Toki’s shoulder to drop, and for him to sink back into the supportive cushion. “You saw me react. You claim to know Magnus better than I do, so I’ll let you decide whether you in pain would affect him in any negative manner?”

It would. Charles’ knew Magnus reacted to violence and suffering differently than others, regarding it with a unique peculiarity that Toki couldn’t relate to. It wasn’t that Toki lacked an understanding of the trauma. He did. In fact, based upon his own observations, Charles believed that Toki and Magnus, despite their unique ways of mishandling years of abuse or abandonment, shared enough similarities that realistically meant Toki suffered from the same, if not related, illnesses that Magnus did. Charles was almost willing to bet their trauma came from the same source, but never bothered looking too deep into Magnus’ past to determine if this was true. Charles took pride in understanding the boys better than themselves, and although Magnus was never one of his, he always kept a watchful eye on him ever since the kidnapping. He was that single anomaly, but also a gear in the clock that Charles was forced to acknowledge as being part of a greater plan, but never one who warranted the same respect or care as Toki. Even after completing his role, playing the song that woke Toki and summoned the remaining members from space, to the ocean, Charles could not allot Magnus the same trust he had with the other members of the prophecy.

And he did not trust Magnus with Toki.

Meanwhile, Toki fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. His arm still smarted, and the back of his head still throbbed whenever the pains from the rest of his body added up too much. He didn’t get how so much body pain could make his brain hurt, only that it did. It was painfully, agonizingly unfair. Like this game.

How was he supposed to know  any  little thing would mean losing a spoon? Charles said he would only take away the spoons if it mattered a lot. Toki sniffed, sucking up the last bits of the hot, searing tingle that consumed his right side as he counted the remaining seven, and tried to think of a way to earn his eighth spoon back. Surely a little pain wasn’t enough to get Magnus upset? Toki remembered being in similar, albeit more emotional, pain in front of Magnus, and in those times, Magnus he’d out strong. True, they were during a darker, grim part of their shared lives, and Magnus was the one dishing the pain, but it was–  it was …not going to work.

And as Toki came to this conclusion, he saw what would realistically happen. If Magnus was willing to argue, fight and threaten doctors for moving him too much, almost getting kicked out of the hospital and put on a “no returns'' list because he couldn’t stand the way they were treating him, and complained about long waits for test results and nurses who didn’t offer up enough codeine, morphine, water, time and empathy, then Magnus would  definitely  react once he was put in charge of his well being. 

If anything, Charles had been kind to only remove one spoon. Toki wondered if Charles knew this, but was only keeping quiet so that the game would last longer.

“Fines,” Toki said with a hushed voice, pouting in dismay at how quickly things were turning against him. “Stupids game.”

“Not a game,” Charles reminded for the umpteenth time. “Again, this isn’t a game Toki, but a reflection of how Magnus’ mind works when off medication.” He saw Toki turn, already prepared to formulate his next argument, then promptly added, albeit callously, “and when faced with high amounts of stress.”

Toki tended to forget the minor details. Charles blamed a short attention span. Everyone in the band suffered from it, but Toki was up there with Murderface when it came to handling important information. To put it simply: if Toki didn’t care about the conversation just seconds prior to the information being let out, then he simply never absorbed it. Toki seemed to understand that Magnus required extra attention and monitoring because he was such a “special case,” but always seemed to forget just how permanent this situation was.

As cruel as it was, Charles needed Toki to understand this now, and in such a way he could easily comprehend. Before, Toki visited Magnus only a few days in a given month, and that number decreased the closer they got to the final hour. As training increased, klokateers revolted, and chaos ensued, those days together went up and down, and in every other direction, but never lasted much longer than a week. Now Toki was requesting to move in, stay with Magnus as a permanent roommate. Toki viewed it as the next big step in healing and quite possibly their relationship, but Charles saw the reality.

They were two glass cannons aimed at one another, each with fuses at various lengths already lit, waiting for that one trigger to set the other off, shattering both in the process.  

“Magnus ams less stressed when we talks,” Toki responded, which threw Charles off-guard. He expected a line about medication, about long-term commitment and sobriety. He was prepared for Toki to tell him he wasn’t afraid of Magnus when he blew up, or that he could fend for himself should such an event arise.

For some reason, he didn’t account for communication.

“Very well,” Charles said, settling into a slow blink and navigating a new course through their conversation. “But consider that not all conversations will end with Magnus or you feeling any better. If anything, a conversation may result in additional loss of spoons.”

“That makes no senses?” Toki half-accused, partly questioned.

“Well, what if you insist you’re alright, but he thinks otherwise? Or, what if you tell him he’s doing a good job, but he doesn’t feel that way?” Charles asked, watching Toki squirm. Reading Toki’s mind was easy. Toki made it so easy. Once he showed a moment of weakness, or built a strong sense of trust, anyone with the right mind and wrong set of goals could get Toki to expose just about anything. It was another reason he couldn’t risk Toki leaving his care. Even if Toki claimed Magnus was currently at his best, all Charles could think of was the time Magnus was at his lowest and most desperate. He’d seen the damage Magnus laid out: the bruises, the corneal abrasion, emaciated form, atrophied muscles, and the poorly sewn and infected stab wound. It was a damn shame that Toki forgave it all away, sickening that Toki rekindled a friendship, only to then build something deeper between the two of them. It was a silent act of betrayal Charles never could have predicted, and even now, blamed himself for not being there to protect Toki. No, there wasn’t a single cell in his body that believed Pickles when he claimed Toki “started it,” Murderface when he declared “Magnus ain’t too bad these days,” or Nathan when word got out that “Toki’s definitely the lead,” and finally Skwisgaar’s sad attempt of an excuse when he said, “Toki cans just kills Magnus if he reallies wanted tos.” The boys were all under the impression this was all Toki’s doing, that Toki was in control, but Charles knew it was Magnus. Toki was simply too ignorant, out of control for his own good. Somehow, Magnus manipulated the situation, and he would continue to do so if he let Toki deeper into his life.

“Okays, but if Toki ams really, really honests with hims?” Toki suggested with a childish demeanor. “Maybes if he knows Toki ams in pain, but will be okays in a few minutes, he won’t gets so stressed outs?”

“Be prepared to lose a spoon,” Charles answered plainly, ignoring Toki’s miserable expression when he gave a stiff, hurtful nod as a response.

Charles pointed at the row of spoons. Frowning, Toki picked one up and offered it to Charles without looking in his direction. Despite the quiet act of defiance, Charles could make out the outlines of a frown, and a man who foolishly considered this all one big game that he desperately wanted to win.

“Tell me more about your day,” Charles began, watching Toki snap and return to the six remaining spoons resting on the table. He could see the stress already beginning to add up as Toki counted his dwindling spoons, slowly but surely realizing that Magnus couldn’t possibly look after him without either falling into a depressive state, breaking into a manic state of blind fury, or just completely shutting down. 

Surely.

“I wakes up,” Toki begins, eyes darting up and cautiously waiting for approval. He waited, almost wondering if Charles was thinking up a way to steal another spoon, but he didn’t. Charles raised two fingers, then gave a small wave to let Toki know he was safe. A bit relieved, Toki continued. “I leaves the bed and puts on clothes.”

“You still need help dressing, correct?” Charles asked him.

“Yeps,” Toki replied, only to then realize the error in his honest reply.

“That’s another spoon.”

“Reallies?” Toki asked, voice hiking up and turning into a high-pitched whine once Charles took the third spoon from the line. Toki threw his good hand on the edge of the table. “Ams just clothes?” he loudly exclaimed.

“Continue with your day, Toki.”

“I eats breakfasts on my owns,” Toki replied with a nasty drop in his voice. “And I don’t needs helps getting’ ups or sittin’ downs, either.”

“What about the bathroom?”

“Charles, that ims privates.” Toki remained firm in his position, allowing the silence between them to stretch for some time before it became too awkward and overwhelming for him. “Fine, Toki needs helps with showers and toilets.”

Charles pointed at a spoon. Toki groaned, throwing his head back before taking a spoon with his left hand and carelessly tossing it at Charles. Charles made a remark about it, but Toki continued staring up in anger. Something in his stomach turned as he tried to figure a day and the number of trips to the bathroom he’d have to take. It was so stupid and so stressful, and it barely made any sense because Toki could do most of it on his own; he just needed helped taking off his clothes, or undoing the button on his pants. But this stupid hand of his! It just wasn’t fair that meant a whole spoon…

“Alright,” Charles said, rubbing his chin after encountering the tossed spoon. “We’ve concluded our morning rituals. With four spoons left, too.”

“Goings to keep playing until Toki loses all spoons?” Toki asked sarcastically.

“Not if you understand why I’m making you go through this,” Charles replied fluidly.

Toki dropped his head, frowning at Charles. As if it wasn’t so obvious why this was happening to him. “Because you don’ts like Magnus,” Toki answered, watching the bottom of Charles’ eye twitch.

“Because he cannot take care of you for the long term,” Charles said, stressing the word.

Toki leered back. It wasn’t like he totally disagreed with Charles’ reply, but he knew better than to assume that was the only case. He wasn’t going to pretend everyone up and forgave Magnus. Not even after the hellfire. The escape. The song. Like everything else in Toki’s life, some things just didn’t work out that way. But he at least had everyone’s support to give this whole thing a short. Everyone except Charles. Toki’s glare weakened as he continued to stare at Charles, wishing that the man would just believe in him.

“Toki, you just survived an impossible event,” Charles said, unblinking. “You and Skwisgaar will never be the same again, physically or mentally. You need months of rest, therapy, and other things that we won’t be able to account for until they start showing up.”

Blah, blah, blah. Toki glanced at the spoons. He only had four left, and there was still so much to be had. The game seemed rigged against him, but Toki figured there had to be a way to win. Some rule that Charles left out, either by accident or on purpose. Or maybe it was a riddle, and he was too hung up on the only rule presented?

“Charles?”

“Yes, Toki?” Charles replied.

Toki bit his inner cheek, a bit nervous to ask. He had no clue if Charles would answer honestly, or continue stealing spoons every time he did or said the wrong thing. “Magnus can gets spoons, rights?” he asked hesitantly.

“Well, in theory he can recover them,” Charles admitted, withholding another twitch of the eye once Toki’s eyes lit up with some hope, “mainly through rest, though  hypothetically he can regain a spoon throughout the day if he has the right support system.”

Charles regretted the honesty, because as soon as he finished, Toki started to ponder. He didn’t have to guess the next question that he’d ask, and already papered his next line of attack.

“If I tells him I loves him even if he’s stressed, will he gets a spoon back?” Toki asked, anxiety now coupling oddly with gooey-eyed romantics. It was a strange, unsightly combination that made Charles nervous. “And sometimes I leaves him alones when he ams upsets about somethings. Does that counts as rests? Or whens Toki calls him funny names until he gets so happy his face gets all darks and lips all thins and scrambly?”

Charles watched Toki’s face continue to light up with ideas, then turn a bright shade of pink as he contemplated  other  options, ones Charles absolutely had no desire to humor.

“What if we…” Toki’s expression turned as conservative as it possibly could, “what if we rests  togethers? Then we both gains spoons, rights?”

“Pardon?”

“Y’know,” Toki covered the bottom half of his face, looking somewhat embarrassed by the question. “When we…does se–”

“I’m referring to you gaining spoons,” Charles interrupted.

“Oh, yeahs,” Toki replied, dropping his hands and recovering too quickly for Charles’ liking. He practically jumped on the question. “Wells, you said Magnus cans gains spoons if he rests, so I thoughts that means I cans also gets the spoons, rights?”

“Toki, why do you need spoons?”

“To helps Magnus when he ams out of spoons,” Toki answered, pointing at the four remaining spoons on the table.

Charles dragged his thumb and finger up the bridge of his nose. “You can’t give him your spoons, Toki.”

“Yeah, buts you said rests and supports will helps him gets new spoons,” Toki aptly replied, voice returning to its more natural state, but lacking the tinge of anger or annoyance. No, now Toki sounded calmer, almost informed. “If Magnus ams going to run out spoons before lunches, then that means Toki needs spoons to take care of Magnus when he ams out of spoons, right?”

Charles’ lips parted as his jaw threatened to drop at the question.

“Toki takes care of Magnus when his spoons are low,” Toki said, face continuing to ease and confidence building as he declared his newly hatched plan. “just like befores, when Magnus only hads two or three spoons before he yells at Toki to leave. Backs in the hospitals, after he stabs himself.”

Charles frowned. This was not happening. Did Toki really think this was some game where he could simply reset the number of attempts he had before Magnus snapped? Hurt him, or himself, or others around him? Did Toki forget he was no longer a god, but a mortal capable of dying if left under the wrong care?

Did Toki take nothing from the lesson? Did he not grasp the gravity of this situation? This wasn’t a visit. This wasn’t a weekend sleepover. A romp that ended with Toki taking a jet back to Mordhaus. This was several months of wearing a cast, having rods hold torn ligaments and broken bones together in an attempt not to lose a hand. This was potentially being told, several months down the line, that his hand and arm would never function the same again. Eventually, Toki would have to accept the cruel reality that he’d never play guitar again. What then?  This was not accounting all the mental and emotional trauma. There were night terrors, Toki ceasing all conversation and withdrawing from everyone, and him breaking out into uncontrollable sobs at random. There was Toki feeling perpetual guilt over Nathan losing his voice, and him vocally wishing he’d been a better companion to Murderface and beating himself over it. It was Toki trying and failing miserably to cheer up Pickles and Skwisgaar, who had used music as a powerful means of escape, and hating that no joke or picture or board game could really make up for the loss of ability to play and perform.

“So if Magnus needs rests, Toki will gives him rests and use my spoons,” Toki concluded, ignoring Charles’ darkening expression. He could see Charles didn’t like what he said, even with his lips forming a straight line. It was impressive Charles could do that, though it meant it was hard for Toki to tell what he was thinking. Toki guessed he thought he was crazy. Maybe Toki was, and he just wanted to be crazy with Magnus. But after learning he spent so much time in the afterlife, or somewhere in between, and in a coma and now trapped in a hospital, Toki was sure he’d rather be crazy and counting spoons with someone who  honest-to-god wanted to hang out with him. Only Magnus made that offer. Charles did too, but Magnus made it when he was sick and barely conscious, and kept making even after being told Toki would need extra care. Magnus still wanted him to stay, as beat down and exhausted as he was, possessing nothing but the few things he snuck out with him during the fire, and whatever empty awards that were handed to him after he woke up. He was broke, could barely walk from his bedroom to Nathan’s without feeling winded or needing support, and he’d never be able to make music or support himself through music, or even play the guitar…but Magnus’s invitation was still there.

Toki smiled, raising his arm midway before wincing terribly against the pain. He lowered his right arm, feeling tears starting to form, though it was hard to tell whether it was more a result of him forgetting his right arm was filled with rods, or because he knew that, between them, there was enough silverware to make it through the day. Tears fell as he recounted the spoons on the table, four plus the dozen or so Toki was sure he had, despite the agonizing pain that trumped his senses, and he knew there had to be several more he wasn’t seeing, because if Magnus could still bring himself to show up to his hospital bed and, with a smile, remind him the offer was still there, than that had to count for at least an additional spoon or two?

“Use… your spoons?” Charles murmured, bottom lids raising as Toki provided an eager nod, pushing out a pleased smile through his reddened eyes. “You will use your spoons on him…and yourself. While in a cast. Reliant on round the care supervision? “

Beaming through tears, Toki answered: “Yeps. I waits for his numbers to be high agains and asks for his helps while my spoons fixes back.” He blinked, bringing his good hand up and wiping the few tears that fell down his still gaunt cheeks. “So…does that means we wins and can stays togethers?”

Charles lowered his face into clasped fingers. His eyes closed as he wrangled control of his deepening frustration. “…is that  all you took form this conversation?” he asked, unsurprised when he caught Toki shaking his head, still appearing as controlled as he could, given his obvious discomfort.

“Nopes.”

Charles raised an unconvinced brow. “Well, then, what else did you learn from this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That this ams not a game,” Toki answered, bringing his hand to rub his upper, right arm. Charles reached out to help, but Toki pushed his seat back with his legs, scooting away. Charles almost took it as the official lead-in to an argument or tantrum, but Toki stood up and, bringing his good hand down, picked up the four remaining spoons. “If it ams game, then Toki loses by lunchtimes. But Toki never does. Because Magnus ams not a game; he ams a person who tries.”

“You’re correct,” Charles said, with caution. “But you need to–”

“I knows it won’ts work all the times,” Toki added, fighting to have his voice heard. “And I knows there will be days when we ams both reallies low.”

“So you’re aware then–”

“But we wills figures somethings out,” Toki pushed through, successfully stopping Charles a second time. “We ams always good at thats. Maybes Magnus cans…” Toki stopped, breaking into a short fit of mad blinks. Charles waited, watched in growing discomfort as Toki’s eyes started to rain silent tears. He bit his inner lip, blinking repeatedly, struggling to say something that had been building up in him. “If Magnus cans learns to take cares of himself, even whens he hates himself, then so cans Toki,” Toki finished, and Charles’ eyes began to widen once he registered the absolution in Toki’s voice, the brutal honesty and recognition of his own, sorry state that Charles wasn’t aware the young man truly comprehended. “And, maybe if Toki is luckies, Magnus can teaches To…c-can teaches  me  to b-be okays, with alls of  this…”

Still holding the spoons, Toki gestured at himself, using the small teaspoons to point at his ruined arm, his wasted and ruined form. Stuttering, Toki shut his eyes, upset at what was left of him, what he was stuck with for the rest of his life. Charles’ shut his own eyes, unmoving as he listened to sniffs and the sounds of spoons hitting the floor. So, Toki knew. Charles wondered just how much. He was afraid to ask. He wasn’t used to being wrong. The fact that it was Toki who pulled it off only made it harder to accept.

But, when it came to it, there was little he could do to convince the man to stay behind with him. Charles could tell Toki things would be alright, but that wasn’t the case. Charles had enough training in therapy, physical education and possessed enough background in kinesiology, but a gut sensation told him he lacked the ability to help pull Toki from the brink of despair. Mayhap in a few months, once he dealt with Pickles, planning and preparation for the onslaught of trouble to arise, but right now?  Viewing Toki now, not as an overly gullible and childish man, but someone who fully accepted that this was it….that this was his reward for saving the planet, changed something. Suddenly, Charles wondered if he did have what it takes to help Pickles, and guide the other boys back on the path of the living. 

“Okay, Toki,” Charles said, shaking his sinking head into spreading palms. Shame swept and blanketed his core as he heard Toki make another loud sniff, and he wondered just far Toki had fallen since waking up, and how deep Magnus would be willing to go to find him, offer a light, and pull him out from such a dark abyss. “You win.”

---

Toki wasn’t the first to leave (that would be Nathan and his family), but he departed at the opportune moment. Magnus arrived early, right after breakfast, and had Toki wheeled out shortly after he loudly declared his arrival to the hospital staff. The staff was effective at packing up Toki’s things, and a nurse already had a stack of files for Magnus to sign off.

The scene earned a chuckle from Skwisgaar, who, despite his pains, thought it appropriate that Magnus’ off-putting behaviors would result in an easy ticket out the door. Murderface wished Toki well, and promised to see him soon. Pickles hardly reacted, only providing a weak smile before withdrawing back into his wheelchair. The silent parting only made Charles less confident in his position, and offered some silent respect towards Toki for helping him take a step back and gain a better view of the challenges to come. 

He hurried on ahead, while Magnus ordered for a nurse to carry Toki’s things. Magnus would obviously be the one to wheel Toki out. 

From a distance, Charles waited outside of the hospital, and he witnessed the scene. Magnus pushed Toki towards his car, and the only talking Charles picked up on was the accompanying nurse’s, giving out a series of “does and don’ts” before dropping off their luggage by their small, barely adequate ride. Charles had to admit, Magnus did well to listen and never interrupt. He guessed Toki must have said something, but didn't see his lips move once during the one-sided discussion. In fact, aside from a few shared words between bandmates, Charles wasn't sure he heard Toki speak at all to himself or anyone else.

 He remained outside the hospital, well after Magnus noticed his presence, but continued to observe, noting how much livelier Magnus was in comparison to Toki, how he held that false smile so well and was so animated with his movements. It was like staring at another man. Maybe that was the point. 

He saw Magnus open the passenger door, say something to Toki with a slightly concerned look, and Toki nodded his head slowly, looking so exhausted but trusting. Charles nearly left his post when Magnus bent down, arms carefully wrapping around Toki before scooping him up and earning only a slight complaint that could barely be detected where Charles stood. Upset, he watched Toki’s good arm wrap around Magnus as he brought the two of them up, legs not shaking but head leaning to bump and rest against Toki’s, soothing whatever pain that wasn’t voiced.

What is that? One, two, three? 

For a second, Charles wondered. He thought about everything he knew, and humored the idea of him possibly being wrong about Magnus, whether it be one thing, or everything adding up to this moment. After all, the prophecy was vague, and the messages translated to him had been proven wrong once before.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe this would work out.

Silent and ever observant, Charles watched with a swelling, pained heart, Toki being lifted and carefully placed into the car by the man who stood behind his very shadow, his kidnapper and composure of the dethsong, his savior and friend. Charles let out a long exhale as the engine started up, and left his position to go back inside and look after the remaining members as Toki was whisked away, leaving behind all of his and Magnus’ titles, and moving on with whatever the fates had in store for them next.

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Winged Arthur AU (part 4)

NOTE: I’ve done Ghost-Arthur and Time travel-Arthur, now it’s time for Winged-Arthur. Inspired by several pieces of fan art by codeine-3 and some other artists which I haven’t been able to relocate.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Part 5: here

Of course, because nothing is ever easy, following Lewis into the air turns out to be more of a challenge than Arthur thinks is fair. Now he’s focusing on intentionally flying the process has become unreasonably hard. Arthur lifts his arms up and down and rolls his shoulders, watching the wings flap and shake but otherwise remain inert.  Just moving them up and down is not giving him the sense of lift he needs.

“Are you coming?” Lewis is glowering again, arms crossed, waiting for Arthur.  

Arthur glares up, retorting, “I’ve had these things for all of two seconds give me a moment.” Lewis isn't the only one anxious to find Vivi.

He closes his eyes, tensing and untensing different muscles, attempting to recapture that euphoric sensation of flight. He snaps them open, then beats down in an unsynchronised, discordant, movement, which has Arthur stumbling to one side. Why is this hard all of a sudden? Two seconds ago, he’d flown up there with no problems.

Magic. It had to be magic because there is no way these wings are strong enough to lift a human body off the ground. That’s not how gravity or aerodynamics works. Arthur conjures an approximation of that sense of innate strength and inner calm. He opens his eyes, watching the golden glow return, faint but there. The weightlessness returns as well. Unfortunately, the new weightlessness only serves to further disrupt his balance. He flings out a hand to steady himself on a nearby rock formation.

Arthur breaths, frustrated, preparing to try again. Only, he doesn’t get to try again, because when he looks up Lewis is right there, up close. Uncomfortably close.

This time Arthur really does fall over, flinging himself back with way too much force when considering his weight. He hits the ground hard and discovers that the wings are ridiculously sensitive. Pain erupts along his back where it connects with rock, jolting through every nerve. A flash of white agony. He groans and tries to curl up. Heat resistant? Yes. Impact resistant? A resounding NO. Lesson learned.  

Lewis’s hand enters his field of view, reaching towards him.

“What are you doing!” Arthur panics immediately, trying to roll away and smacking into an adjacent rock when the wings get caught under his own weight. The pain and uneven mass are making him clumsier than normal.

“I’m helping,” Lewis grumbles, visibly irritated, following after him, “Hold still.”

He snags the front of Arthur’s ripped shirt in a move which reminds Arthur uneasily of his recent trip over the cliff. This time Lewis is using it to prevent Arthur from falling instead of a way to make Arthur fall. It doesn’t help him feel any safer.

As soon as Arthur’s feet leave the ground, the wings snap out, coming to life, flapping and flopping sporadically. Lewis’s grip falters, and he holds Arthur out, leaning back to avoid the chaos of feathers. The ghost still gets bashed over the head several times.

“Arthur!” Lewis’s temper doesn’t hold for long, “Stop moving!”

“I’m trying,” Arthur protests, slightly panicked, “This is harder than it looks.” Another smack to the temple provokes a growl and several impatient hisses from the smaller ghosts. It doesn't help.

After a lot of fussing, Arthur manages to compel all his unruly limbs to hang limp. Finally, the wings loosen, stilling. The gold glow dissipates. His sudden weight takes Lewis off guard, and they both narrowly avoid tumbling onto the ground. Still holding Arthur at arms distance, Lewis flies to the top of the cliff.

“Are you going to fall again if I let you go?” Lewis questions, setting him down. Arthur thinks the sentiment is a little unfair because the only reason he’d fallen off the first time was to escape Lewis’s fire outburst.

“Probably not?” He tries to pull away, shooting a frown at Lewis when the ghost doesn’t let him go immediately. More suspicious staring reaffirms that Lewis is still far from trusting and he’s not out of the woods quite yet. Arthur wishes he had a way to reassure his friend. For both their sakes.  

“Don’t move,” Lewis finally orders, releasing his shirt, “This process is hard when I have to worry about another person’s safety.”

The world shivers like a mirage in a desert. The cave warps, stone and rock quaking. Fire begins to slowly consume the scenery, eating away at rock walls, curling in towards them.  Nervously, Arthur eyes the new development, turning to Lewis. The ghost is entirely still, fire along his shoulders flaring in tandem with their surroundings. Whatever Lewis is doing it’s taking his full attention.

“Wait…Is this an illusion,” Arthur can’t help but voice when everything turns from purple to a muted grey. Steel walls shimmer into existence, putting him and Lewis at the centre of a small metal box.  If Arthur had to take an educated guess, he would say this is the back of a semi-trailer.  

“How?”

The cave had been enormous, cavernous, and this is tiny and small. It broke all the laws of physics.

“I hate magic,”  Arthur mutters.

Part 5: here

NOTE: This one’s for anyone who’s ever tried to pick up a chicken (or any bird really) and had it backfire spectacularly.  

[lostandforgone]

here’s my next killer baby enjoy scarlette braya!!

( emily browning, cisfemale, she/her, 32 ) · for a member of THE MILITIA, i’d call you lucky for making it this far. rumour around camp has it that SCARLETTE BRAYA is a CAPRICORN and used to live in WASHINGTON, D.C. i think i heard someone say that they’re very CYNICAL, RUTHLESS, AND TENSE but who wouldn’t be in the middle of the apocalypse, y’know, especially cause they’re A SCOUT. anyway, they remind me of that song — ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH AND THE CODEINE SCENE by HOZIER. god i miss spotify. ( raw knuckles picked at over and over, sitting in silence surrounded by noise, ignoring the past in order to endure the present, dreaming of the lives hidden within the walls they now stay within / hannah ).

Scarlette was the youngest of five siblings all boys and really enjoyed the life she was lucky enough to have while growing up

she joined the marines straight out of highschool and rose through the ranks as many would before transferring into NCIS as a tactical leader

when the apocalypse first began she tried to be the sweetness left in the world but it was soon taken over by more of a will to survive

she was one of the luckier ones having had  training in combat and survival but it was so much different compared to what she had gone through before

She tried to call her parents but they were out of country and her brothers were scattered across the continent, essentially as the militia makes its way through america she’s constantly on the lookout for any braya living or undead

Her parents raised her under their thumb and it lead to great sneaking skills

she wears a pendant of the four horsemen that was her weird goth grandma’s with a golden cross charm added on to it

less for religion though she does believe in God but more to tie her to her past family wise

before the militia though, Scarlette was kind but quickly learned that being kind got you in danger and instead has a trail of dead bodies behind her something she tries to ignore as the days go on.

[agnes-knits-blog]

Things I wish I had known about fibromyalgia, and how to live with it

To put this into context, I was diagnosed about 10 or 11 years ago now, and it was a diagnosis reached by excluding other things that could be causing my symptoms. I had X-rays and MRI scans, I had something very unpleasant called electro-conductivity testing to rule out multiple sclerosis, and then I was told that I have fibromyalgia, have this leaflet, please close the door after you. I was basically forced to deal with it myself for a long time, and I’ve learnt quite a lot about how to manage myself. I hope what I learnt can help you.

What is fibromyalgia?

Fibromyalgia means “muscle and nervous pain”. Current research suggests that it is a dysfunction of the central nervous system (that is, the nerves that tell your brain what you’re feeling), so nerve signals are misinterpreted as pain.

Symptoms include, but are not limited to:

Widespread muscular and nervous pain, fatigue, headaches, cognitive dysfunction (problems concentrating, poor memory, slow or confused speech) extreme sensitivity of the skin, extreme sensitivity to pain (as in, you accidentally catch your finger on the cupboard door, it hurts really badly and it still hurts 2+ hours later), muscle stiffness after being still for a while, muscle spasms, poor sleep quality and waking up tired, dizziness and clumsiness, feeling too hot or too cold (because the body isn’t able to regulate it’s temperature) sensations like tingling, numbness, prickling or burning in hands and feet (and maybe other areas), anxiety and depression.

That’s a lot of symptoms, and chances are you don’t get all of them, and other people will be affected differently.

Stress

Stress makes fibro worse. It makes the pain worse, it makes everything harder to cope with. It’s not just me saying that, it is a scientific FACT. I know if I get upset, stressed  or angry, my pain INSTANTLY increases. I can’t watch horror films anymore, every time there’s a jump-scare I feel like I’m being showered with needles! So, it’s really important to try and keep your stress levels down. Find hobbies that help you relax. Choose to be calm and happy! It will really help!

Pain

How you think about your pain needs to change. It isn’t a matter of “powering through” and having to “man up”. If you have fibro, you have something which means your nerves are nearly always screaming at you that stuff hurts. LISTEN to your body when you exercise. If it tells you doing something hurts, slow down how you are doing it. Slow your movements down, focus on how you feel and go gently. If it burns or hurts more than you are prepared to deal with, leave it for the day. Get some rest, take some paracetamol and ibuprofen and relax! If the pain gets too much – as in, can’t eat because feel sick because pain, or can’t walk/do daily tasks anymore, go see your GP about pain relief. It took me 8+ years to find a doctor who took me seriously and understood the condition, and gave me the pain meds I need to function day to day.

My current meds are: 2 x cocodamol (30mg codeine/500mg paracetamol) x 4 times a day. 1 x 100 mg gabapentin twice a day. 1 x 100mg sertraline (anti-depressant) twice a day. 45mg mirtazapine at night. That’s a lot of anti-depressants because I also have Bipolar Disorder (used to be called manic depression). Gabapentin has been an absolute godsend for me! It’s really helped tone down the constant prickly/tingly sensations

Sleep

Sleep is incredibly important. When folks with fibro don’t get enough sleep, or don’t get enough deep sleep, everything hurts so much more. Fibro can disrupt your sleep cycle so you don’t go into the deep sleep your body needs - so SLEEP IS IMPORTANT! If you sleep well, you will be so much more able to deal with everyday pain. So try your best to get a good night’s sleep. Create a bedtime routine – go to bed at a decent time (around 11pm at the latest) after a warm bath or shower. Have some extra-soft pyjamas or loungewear to get into after coming out of the bath or shower. Have a hot (non-caffeinated) drink e.g. herbal tea, hot milk, Horlicks or Ovaltine. Don’t watch TV in bed! Do not spend too much time on tablets, phones etc past 9pm (blue light from screens will make you feel more awake, use a blue light filter if it’s built into your devices).

This may make you feel like an old fogey, but SLEEP IS IMPORTANT! Like, super duper important! And you need to do everything you can to make sure you sleep well. However, and this is the real kick in the teeth, sometimes you can do everything right and still wake up exhausted. If that happens, talk to your GP about medication to help you sleep. There are various anti-depressants that are commonly used for this, like amitriptyline (which I used to take, and my sister takes now), and I am currently on mirtazapine to make me properly sleepy. There’s a happy side effect in that these drugs also help to lessen nervous pain.  

Fatigue

As you will have noticed by now, fatigue isn’t just feeling tired. It’s feeling exhausted, like you haven’t slept for a week, and you can barely do anything before you have to stop. On days like this, you only have a little energy, and you have to be careful how you spend it. Figure out what HAS to be done (e.g. need to do the laundry so you can have clean clothes tomorrow, dishes need to be done because you have nothing to eat off and you are hungry), and what can wait until you’re feeling better (e.g. vacuuming). You can’t do everything at once, so take it one task at a time slowly and at your own pace. Give yourself breaks if you need it. It’s important to cut yourself some slack and allow yourself to come back to it later. Be kind to yourself. Ask for help if you need it. No one wants to see you struggling with something, or in too much pain to cope.

Cognitive dysfunction (a.k.a. fibro-fog)

Some days, your head might feel like it’s been stuffed with hot cotton wool. You can’t think straight, and you can’t find the words to properly express yourself. You will probably forget things that are a change from your normal routine. People may ask you if you’re on any drugs! Unfortunately there’s no treatment for it, but you can find ways to deal with it.

Use a calendar or paper diary – writing things down may help you to remember them better. Make lists of important things WHEN YOU REMEMBER THEM – you can’t rely on yourself to remember them another time. You have to try and leave yourself reminders. Future you is forgetful, so present you has to plan for it! And if you forget something important, be prepared to apologise!

Food

I’m know it’s very tempting, when you’re in pain and tired, to just order some delicious food delivered to your door, but you’re gonna find it very hard to lose weight when you can’t do lots of cardio, so it’s best to eat healthy most of the time. Keep frozen chopped onion and garlic in the freezer, and tinned tomatoes and pasta in the cupboard, so you can knock up a good meal with minimal effort. Try to have a folding stool in the kitchen for you to perch on whilst cooking. Make it easy to eat well, and save the left-overs for lunches!

Exercising

You’ll probably find it very hard to keep exercising like you used to. Try to replace high impact exercise with something low impact like cycling (not spin class!) and rowing. Maybe try something like yoga or pilates (I know, it’s old lady stuff, but it’s still good for you!), low impact stretching and general core work will be good for you.

DON’T do exercise classes where you will get constantly yelled at to go harder. Don’t let other people set your pace! Let your body tell you how fast you can go!

In general, don’t let other people set your pace. Sometimes you will need to go more slowly, if you feel unsafe on your feet (as in, knees might give out and you might deck it, right in the middle of the street) consider getting a stick. It took me years to finally admit that I needed one, but it has seriously helped me. My sister went through the same thing a few months ago, and I told her: it isn’t you admitting defeat or failure, it’s you doing what you need to do to help yourself. Plus she now has something to trip people up with if she doesn’t like them!

And to anyone who says that fibro isn't real, or is all down to lifestyle factors, I say this: me, my sister and my aunt have all been diagnosed with fibro independent of each other. And I have reason to believe other members of my family might be showing symptoms too! There is clearly a big genetic component at play, so blaming people who can't exercise for being overweight is counter productive as fuck.

[tak4hir0]

How to Build an eCars App on Heroku and Salesforce (Part 4)11x Certified Salesforce professional and developer with 10+ years experience and an MBA from UCLA Anderson School. This is the fourth article documenting what I’ve learned from a series of 10 Trailhead Live video sessions on Modern App Development on Salesforce and Heroku. In these articles, we’re focusing on how to combine Salesforce with Heroku to build an “eCars” app—a sales and service application for a fictitious electric car company (“Pulsar”) that allows users to customize and buy cars, service techs to view live diagnostic info from the car, and more. In case you missed my previous article, you can find it here. Just as a quick reminder: I’ve been following this Trailhead Live video series to brush up and stay current on the latest app development trends on these platforms that are key to my career and business. I’ll be sharing each step for building the app, what I’ve learned, and my thoughts from each session. These series reviews are both for my own edification as well as for others who might benefit from the content. The Trailhead Live sessions and schedule can be found here: Last time…Last session, we did some data modeling in Salesforce using point-and-click methods and also went over some of the data modeling and scalability features of the Heroku platform. If you remember from the last article, I absolutely think that proper data modeling at the outset is critical to setting up an app for success.  In this episode, we’re looking at a topic that is paradoxically both anathema to me and something that makes me love the Salesforce platform: creating front-end app experiences. I promise this will make sense as we get deeper into the article. Ever since I first got into app development, designing and building front-end experiences for an app or website has probably been my least enjoyable experience. With back-end development, things either worked the way they should, or you had clear bugs or errors: there was no middle ground. On the other hand, I found front-end to be far too subjective of a topic for my liking—everyone had a different opinion about how something should flow, how it should look, whether to use rounded or square edges, which shade of blue would get more clicks, etc. Then, when you finally get to release the end product after much colorful debate, a group of users out in the wild invariably figures out a way to get confused by the front-end experience you worked so hard on.  The fact that there is massive controversy over this meme is why I dislike working on both However, I think my early distaste for front-end related things is actually something that drew me deeper into the Salesforce ecosystem. I was naturally attracted to the platform’s meta-data driven architecture that allows me to quickly get an app concept up-and-running with a working and extensively customizable user interface without having to write a bunch of front-end HTML, CSS, and Javascript.  Many of my clients are very visual in the way they process information, and oftentimes they need something in front of them they can play around with and “kick the tires” on before they’re able to provide substantive feedback on ways we can improve their experience. Being able to prototype this way has saved me countless hours iterating on designs. As a result, this session really had me thinking about how much one can do with the front-end experience of a Salesforce app before having to do anything with code.  Let’s look at some of those features in the context of our eCars app. Personalizing and Branding the Salesforce AppA nice feature that’s been added to the Salesforce Lightning Experience interface is the Themes and Branding section of the User Interface area of app setup. Without needing code to customize the color palette, banners, logo, and images, we can completely personalize a Salesforce app to match the branding of the company. We can literally take theme customizations for a test-drive You can try out this feature yourself in the context of the Pulsar eCars app by uploading the app package to a developer edition or scratch org. You can get the GitHub repo for the eCars app at the following URL and if you need a review on how to deploy a Salesforce app to a scratch org from a GitHub repo, you can refer back to the very first article I wrote on this series. https://github.com/trailheadapps/ecars Creating Custom Record Pages Without CodeBeing able to customize the theme colors, logos, and images is certainly a nice appetizer, but the main course is really when we get into the user interface components of record pages without having to use any code. Lightning Experience has really taken this to the next level as well—those of you too new to have known Classic Experience might not fully appreciate all the new features Lightning offers. For the eCars app, we get to design, from scratch, a record page for the standard Lead object.  Regardless of which object we’re working with, displaying relevant information to the user in both a logical and functional way is paramount. With the Lightning record pages, we’re presented with a plethora of variations on how we can optimize things for the user, all without code: Page Templates How should we organize information on the page? Do we need a header and two equal regions? A header, main section, and a sidebar? No header and three columns?  Even if none of the many out-of-the-box layouts work, we can create a custom page template that can be achieved with some light coding.  If none of these options work, you could be overthinking things Drag-and-Drop Components After the page regions are defined, we can simply start building out the record page using a number of drag-and-drop components such as tabs, record details, record highlights, related list items for the sidebar, etc. Basically, we can include anything that someone interacting with the record might need to access.  Page Activations for Different Use Cases Once the page has been built and defined, we also have the option of activating it as a single org-wide default, or going a few levels deeper and then defining multiple versions of the same record page for different apps, user profiles, and record types. One user may need to see more, less, or different information for the same record. This reality makes defining multiple versions a handy tool to achieve that use case.  The page activations can even be as granular as desktop vs. phone for added optimization for the different form factors.   Even More Granular UI Elements Without CodeIn addition to the customizations of the Lightning Record Pages, there are other, more specific ways to customize without code.  Compact, Search, and Page Layouts If we need to customize which fields appear and in what order—in places like the Record Highlights component, the Global Search results, or the Record Details component— we can use drag-and-drop methods on the Compact Layouts, Search Layouts, and Page Layouts sections of the Object Manager in Setup. I use these frequently as they’re essential to organizing information for the users. Dynamic Actions with Conditional Visibility This is a relatively new feature at the time of this writing (only a few releases old), and it’s already helped me with those client requests that go something like, “Can we hide this button until so-and-so has filled out x,y,z or the record has gotten to this stage?” I used to hack this functionality together by creating a mess of record types and different page layouts, or I’d just code a custom visualforce page. But now, hiding/rendering actions is as easy as defining the filters for them with a few clicks. The one consideration here is that this only works (currently) for desktop interfaces. Dynamic Forms Dynamic forms take the whole “conditional visibility” thing to a new level. This feature applies not just to buttons and actions, but to individual fields. Similar to the above use-case example for hiding buttons, sometimes a record just might present too many fields to the user at once. Dynamic forms solve this by allowing you to define under which conditions certain fields should be visible. As a result, users can go on about their business of filling things out and updating records. Then, as things progress, dynamic forms hide irrelevant fields and present new, relevant ones. This creates a nice, streamlined user experience. One “gotcha” we have to keep in mind is that this is only available for custom objects, not standard ones like Leads, Accounts, Contacts, and Opportunities. That being said, I’m betting this will change soon enough. Screen Flows – Multi-Step Wizards Without CodeScreen flows are probably one of the most powerful tools we can leverage when it comes to custom user experiences without crossing into the “code zone.” If an app builder needs to hold a user’s hand during a complex and multi-step design process, then the screen flow is the likely tool of choice. I’ve found that there is a bit of a learning curve with screen flows. Although it’s hard to design them nicely from the outset, once someone gets the hang of it, they’ll need very little time to build out a totally bespoke data-entry wizard user experience during those times when even dynamic forms don't get the job done.  And once Lightning Components get involved, flows can even launch and exchange information with Lightning Components in the middle of a flow. The possibilities really are endless. Concluding Thoughts and Other Helpful ResourcesAs I said earlier, designing front-end experiences is not one of my strong suits. I’m pretty sure that if I had not found Salesforce on my app-building journey, I probably would have quit and found a different line of work, or I would have just become a purely back-end developer.  The UI/UX tools and features on the Salesforce platform have instead helped me to deliver complete app experiences, front to back. For more information and specific practice on some of the topics covered, check out the links to the Trailhead modules and resources below: In the next article, we’re going to shift gears and dive into some actual coding for the eCars app with Lightning Web Components. If you haven’t already joined the official Chatter group for this series, I certainly recommend you do so. That way, you can get the full value of the experience and also pose questions and start discussions with the group. Oftentimes, there are valuable discussions and additional references available there, such as the slides from the presentation and links to other resources and references. https://sforce.co/34Ld7xz About me:  I’m an 11x certified Salesforce professional who’s been running my own Salesforce consultancy for several years. If you’re curious about my backstory on accidentally turning into a developer and even competing on stage on a quiz show at one of the Salesforce conventions, you can read this article I wrote for the Salesforce blog a few years ago. Also published at https://dev.to/jasonomnivo/building-front-end-app-experiences-with-clicks-not-code-2m6e Join Hacker Noon Create your free account to unlock your custom reading experience.

[icharchivist]

Do you have a leopika playlist? Or just songs that reminds you of? Always when I listen to "13 Beaches" from Lana Del Rey they come to my thoughts.

Heyo nonny!! 

I tried to find the song on youtube but apparently the original one had been removed, so I tried listening a cover and reading the lyrics. And I get what you mean! This is a really pretty song and it would fit them well!

As to answer your question about if I have a Leopika playlist….

*coughs*

Now not all of them are fitting perfectly, a few are generic lovesongs I just really love in that context, and even a few are more songs I associate more to one or the other. So if I was to make a list, i’d be shorter than this. 

…… And if you’re curious I can post most of my playlist.

Before going under the cut with more song, I will first mention probably the most important Leopika song I have in my playlist and that is Angel Heart by Keiji Fujiwara, Leorio’s Seiyuu. 

It’s a song for his character, Hughes in Fullmetal alchemist 2003, but look at the lyrics:

making a phone call in a place that has no answer your quiet back seemed as though it had been cryingand the pain you intend to hide well, I know it all I made a promise, didn’t I? (..)I softly kissed your sleeping face buried in the sofa so that you won’t catch a coldthe thoughts I send to you are angel heart but I’m troubled, in reality, you were my angelif it’s a time when sadness pierces your chest believe in your strength, I’ll become a transparent shieldLike a miracle, we met in the corner of an intersection where rain was falling I’ll become the umbrella for my beloved

(the rest of the translations is in the comments of the video I linked, please do yourself a favor and go listen to Leorio singing sweet love song about people not answering the goddamn phone)

Now if you want there’s a little more under the cut because I love my playlist and if any songs might inspire you, this would be neat. Hope you’ll like it! (although i’m sorry my musical taste is all over the place)

Take care!

(and now songs under the cut - alphabetic order, songs with a * are generally those i really love and associate with them.)

(… Also I may have more angsty songs that happy ones that fits them a lot. I feel bad about it. But the happy ones are super generic so…)

Oh and I made a playlist over those songs on Youtube if ever someone wants. It’s 50 songs long (see when I said I cut some of it). 

Under the cut the details ;O Take care!

*-After Dark - Mr. Kitty

The moment you hold me, I missed you, I’m sorry I’ve given what I have, I showed you I’m growing The ashes fall slowly as your voice consoles me As the hours pass, I will let you know that I need to ask before I’m alone How it feels to rest on your patient lips to eternal bliss I’m so glad to know (..)My patience controlling the question I won’t speak We’re telling the stories, our laughter, He knows me We’re leaving, We’re talking, You’re closer, it’s calming

*-All the Same - Sick Puppies

I don’t mind where you come from as long as you come to meI don’t like illusions, I can’t see them clearlyI don’t care; no, I wouldn’t dare to fix the twist in youYou’ve shown me eventually What you’ll doI don’t mind, I don’t care, As long as you’re here Go ahead, tell me you’ll leave again, You’ll just come back runningHolding your scarred heart in hand, It’s all the sameAnd I’ll take you for who you are now, If you take me for everythingDo it all over again; It’s all the same 

*-All You Wanted - Sounds  Under Radio

I am the fold, in the wake, watch me push her back and breakI lose all my friends, and wash away all the fractures I’ve displayedBut we still, hold on. Cause it was all you wanted and all I neededBut all I gave up, now…. Could you hold me tighter? When worlds collide, Just hold me down right now(…) Pull me in, drown my fears. Could you hold back another day knowing that I’ll come back? 

*-Always - Panic! At the Disco

When the world gets too heavy, put it on my back, I’ll be your levyYou are taking me apart like bad glue on a get well card (…) I’m a fly that’s trapped in a web, but I’m thinking that my spider’s deadLonely, lonely little life, I could kid myself in thinking that I’m fineIt was always you, Falling for me. Now there’s always time, Calling for meI’m the light blinking at the end of the road Blink back, to let me knowThat I’m skin and bone, Just a king and rusty throneOh, the castle’s under siege, But the sign outside says ‘leave me alone’

*-Angel of Small Death - Seafret (originally Hozier)

No more alone or myself could I beLooks like a strain to the arms it were openNo shortage of sordid, no protest from meWith her sweetened breath, and her tongue so meanShe’s the angel of small death and the codeine sceneWith her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and leanShe’s the angel of small death and the codeine sceneFeeling more human and hooked on her flesh I lay my heart down with the rest at her feetFresh from the fields, all feeder and fur tiresBloody and raw, but I swear that it’s sweet

-Annie -  Neon Indian

Annie, don’t run away where I can’t find youThe game has gone too far, talking, I’m out of talkPlaying telephone, 20 city blocks*Annie, they have a dossier, the investigation’s already underway(…) Annie, I was closing it, But it’s clear the numberI’m walking in the rain to go down the hall to sit until you callAnd I try to sleep, but all I can hear is the beepJust your answering, answering machine(Why won’t you come and find me?)

-Back to Me - All American Rejects

Hey you, So you never really found your wayStay true, Did you ever make it through today? I know that when I think about a day without it, everyday’s the sameYou wish that you could find someone but I’m the only one to blameCan’t you see? I beg and pleadCause when your eyes light up the skies at nightI know you’re gonna find your way back to me(…) Soon when I get you I won’t let you goOh if I let you, You can take away all that I thought was wrongAnd if you hear me there’s not much to say, There’s gotta be a better way

-Bated Breath - Tinashe

What if I told you that it was all in vain? Would it still hurt you?Would you still feel the same? Said its impossible-possibleBut you’re still waiting on the moment breath is batedI wish I could hold you, I can’t take it, Tell you all my secrets I’m too fadedPraying that tomorrow I’ll be braverMaybe I can tell you, maybe we can do thisKisses on my forehead we can fall into itLove you like the rain, falls much fasterLiving in a piece of ever after

*-Better - Tom Baxter

Our love has changed, it’s not the same, And the only way to say it is say it, it’s betterI can’t conceal this way I feel for all the times we spend togetherForever just gets betterSeem what I’m try to say is, You make things betterAnd no matter what the day is, With you here it’s betterI stand by you if you stand by me, I think it’s time that I reveal it‘Cause I believe it, it’s better Oh, the more I talk to you, I’m falling in love with everything you do 

-Bombshell Blonde - Owl City

I see danger, when I look in her eyes.She’s so foxy, she could lead to my demise.So I’m running, ‘cause I’ve run out of time.She’s a bombshell blonde, wired up to detonateI’m James Bond, live to die another dayBombshell blonde, high explosive dynamiteShe’s all I want so I, I’m on a mission tonightHer love is a drug laced with ecstasy, And her charm is spiked with a spell.A hot mess in a dress gets the best of me. She’s ice cold, but she’s making me melt!

-Breathe Me - Sia

Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times beforeHurt myself again today and the worst part is there’s no one else to blame(..)Ouch, I have lost myself again. Lost myself and I am nowhere to be foundYeah, I think that I might break. Lost myself again and I feel unsafeBe my friend, hold me. Wrap me up, unfold meI am small, I’m needy. Warm me up and breathe me

*-The Calendar - Panic! at the Disco

Feel like an ambulance, chase her away, pray I could replace herForget the way her tears taste, oh, the way her tears taste(..) Don’t wanna call it a second chance, But when I came back, it was more of a relapseAnticipation’s on the other line, an obsession called while you were outYeah, it called while you were out

-Campire - Satellite Stories

It’s 7am and the letters I send won’t follow you home.it’s too late to goWaited all summer to get to youcampfire outside we fell and kissedthere were only few words I said to yousun shade, this lake, one to cherishDolorean, saw your name on the sandDolorean, make me understand.

*-Chained - The xx

Separate or combine, I ask you one last timeDid I hold you too tight? Did I not let enough light in?If a feeling appears, If your mind should sway, It’s not a secret you should keep. I won’t let you slip awayWe used to be closer than this …. Is it something you missed?Winged or chained, I ask you would you have stayed? 

*-Closer - The Chainsmokers & Halsey

Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you, I drink too much and that’s an issue but I’m okay (…)I know it breaks your heart, Moved to the city in a broke down carAnd four years, no calls, Now you’re looking pretty in a hotel barAnd I can’t stop  (…)You look as good as the day I met you, I forget just why I left you, I was insane(…) I know it breaks your heart, Moved to the city in a broke down carAnd four years, no call, Now I’m looking pretty in a hotel barAnd I can’t stop

*-Come Home - OneRepublic

Hello world, Hope you’re listening. Forgive me if I’m young, For speaking out of turnThere’s someone I’ve been missing, I think that they could be the better half of meThey’re in the in the wrong place trying to make it rightBut I’m tired of justifying, So I say to youCome home, 'Cause I’ve been waiting for you for so longAnd right now there’s a war between the vanitiesBut all I see is you and me. The fight for you is all I’ve ever known(… ) Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can beginIt might start now, Well maybe I’m just dreaming out loudUntil then: Come home

-A Day’s Pay For A Day’s Work - Darkstar

Clocks tick, Seconds fall, Minutes and hours then days and weeks go byI never cared so much for losing touch. I know what happened. I chose to sacrifice something else in lifeNow the night lays, Daytime closes, Still the night’s made It disposes of the hours and all their gloryWhat was ours now I hope only…As the evening crawls in on me, and her telling words I’m passingNow I fall to slow emotion though that moment sleep approaches

-Dial my Number - Rick Astley

If you ever wake up feeling blue, You know there’s always someone who’ll be right here for you.If there’s any little thing that’s gonna get you downDon’t be afraid, I’ll always be aroundPick up the phone, and dial my number, that’s all you have to doI’ll be over in a while, so just you hush now, child, I’ll bring my love to you(..)Giving up my time for something that I’ve heardI need to hear those words I’m in love‘cos I love you, I need you, I want you, I’m so in love with you

-Epilogue - The Antlers

In a nightmare, I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside youYou’re asleep, I’m screaming, shoving you to try to wake you upAnd like before, you’ve got no interest in the life you live when you’re awakeYour dreams still follow storylines, like fictions you would make (…)In that hospital bed, being buried quite alive nowI’m trying to dig you out but all you want is to be buried there together (…)I’ve woken up, I’m in our bed, but there’s no breathing body there beside meSomeone must have taken you while I was stuck asleepBut I know better as my eyes adjustYou’ve been gone for quite a while now, and I don’t work there in the hospital(They had to let me go)

-Every Little Things She Does Is Magic - Sleeping At Last

Though I’ve tried before to tell her of the feelings I have for her in my heartEvery time that I come near her, I just lose my nerveAs I’ve done from the start (..)Every little thing she does is magic, Everything she do just turns me onEven though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes onI resolve to call her up a thousand times a day, And ask her if she’ll marry me in some old fashioned wayBut my silent fears have gripped me, Long before I reach the phoneLong before my tongue has tripped me… Must I always be alone?

-Falling - Florence + The Machine

I’ve fallen out of favour, and I’ve fallen from graceFallen out of trees, and I’ve fallen on my faceFallen out of taxis, out of windows tooFell in your opinion when I fell in love with youSometimes I wish for falling,  Wish for the releaseWish for falling through the air to give me some reliefBecause falling’s not the problem when I’m falling I’m at peaceIt’s only when I hit the ground It causes all the grief

-Find A Way - Safetysuit

You know I’m gonna find a way to let you have your way with meYou know I’m gonna find a time to catch your hand and make you stay(…)And if I was running, you’d be the one who I would be running toAnd if I was crying, you would be lining the cloud that would pull me throughAnd if I was scared, then I would be glad to tell you and walk awayBut I am not lying, I am just trying to find my way in to you

-First Floor People - Barcelona

Some may say, the world looks, The same through red eyes, no wayCovered in dirt off the floor, I’m seeing straightDon’t be scared if you know, Help me to explain myselfWho am I to fool now if you’re gone, you’re goneIf I am found below the ground, I’m searching, desperate

*-Forgiven - Within Temptation

I watched the clouds drifting away, Still the sun can’t warm my faceI know it was destined to go wrong, You were looking for the great escape to chase your demons away(..)You gave up the fight, You left me behind…. All that’s done’s forgivenYou’ll always be mine, I know deep inside… All that’s done’s forgiven

*-Ghost Town - Radical Face

‘Cause all my life is wrapped up in today, No past or future hereIf I find my name’s no good, I just fall out of lineBut I miss you, But there’s no comin’ home with a name like mineI still think of you… But everyone knows: If you care then let it go(…) But all this time, I’ve been chasin’ down a lie, and I know it for what it is, But it beats the alternatives, So I’ll take the lieI still miss you…. There’s no goin’ home with a name like mineI still dream of you… But everyone knows: If you can, let it go

*-The Glass Parade - Cary Brothers

I found you in a reflection you didn’t want me to seeI will give you all I have, Just look up, break down and believeThis is a glass parade, A fragile state and I am trying not to breakAnd the stars are shining, the moon is rightAnd I would kill to be with you tonightWish you told me all the truth, so afraid to face an absoluteAll the fights you had to lose, All the fear was put upon youI found you when you were broken, Too many cracks of deceit

-Gold - Sir Sly

What did you say back to me? I’m dreaming of maybach cruisingMaybe talking crazy, but I want it, a hundred thousand ways of choosingWho the hell is out and who’s in trouble, maybe I’m too subtleMouth made of metal, Pocket full of yellow, Pocket full of goldAnd I hope you find, I hope you find your dreamAnd darling never settle, Chasing down the devil, Chasing down the godsAnd I hope you find, I hope you find your dreamI’m living like a silent movie, Shut your mouth and see straight through meFinding that you’re hiding in your moneyI got a million ways of losing, But nothing in my life worth provingChasing, all my time is wasted

-Hands - Koda

There’s a light out in the dark,So take my hand. I learned to stand,You learned to fall harder,So take my hand,I’ll take you much farther. 

*-Helpless/Bloodline Part II - Sir Sly

It’s not that I’m lost, I know exactly where I amI’m in the middle of a mess that I don’t understandWhy does it feel like the world’s stealing every single thing that I have?I only got the air in my chest and even that won’t lastWhat do I do here? What’ll I do if I lose you? What do I do here? What’ll I do?I feel helpless (..)Everything I know is finally gone, The things I had, the ones I love… AgainAll the words that I had once believed. I’m not sure we’ll ever meet again 

-Hold On - Chord Overstreet

Loving and fighting, Accusing, unitingI can’t imagine a world with you goneThe joy and the chaos, the demons we’re made ofI’d be so lost if you left me alone (…)I pull you in to feel your heartbeat, Can you hear me screaming “please don’t leave me”Hold on, I still want you. Come back, I still need youLet me take your hand, I’ll make it rightI swear to love you all my life

*-Honeythief - Halou

Sometimes I doubt the path I chose, Sometimes my dreams feel all on holdThere’s no doubt that this will make me strongBecause it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever doneDespite this cruel world, And all my best efforts, You surprise me with just how perfect you areEven with all my flaws, and my bad examplesYou surprise me with just how perfect you areAnd when I’m lost, You search for meAnd when I doubt You’re my beliefI’m suppose to be the stronger oneYou always seem to prove that theory wrong

*-Hopeless Wanderer - Mumford and Sons

You heard my voice, I came out of the woods by choiceShelter also gave their shade, but in the dark I have no nameSo leave that click in my head, and I will remember the words that you saidLeft a clouded mind and a heavy heart, But I am sure we could see a new start(..)I wrestled long with my youth, We tried so hard to live in the truthBut do not tell me all is fine, When I lose my head, I lose my spineSo leave that click in my head, and I won’t remember the words that you saidYou brought me out from the cold, Now, how I long, how I long to grow oldSo when your hopes on fire, but you know your desireDon’t hold a glass over the flame, Don’t let your heart grow coldI will call you by name, I will share your road

-I miss you - Blink 182

I miss you I miss you. Where are you? and I’m so sorryI cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight, I need somebody and alwaysThis sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every timeAnd as I stared I counted the Webs from all the spidersCatching things and eating their insides, Like indecision to call youAnd hear your voice of treason, Will you come home and stop the pain tonight?Don’t waste your time on me You’re already the voice inside my head (I miss you, I miss you)

-If You Ever Come Back - The Script

Now they say I’m wasting my time ‘Cause you’re never comin’ homeBut they used to say the world was flat, But how wrong was that now?And by leavin’ my door open, I’m riskin’ everything I ownThere’s nothing I can lose in a break-in that you haven’t taken(…)There’ll be a smile on my face and the kettle on, And it will be just like you were never goneThere’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat, If you ever come back

-If You Only Knew - Shinedown

If you only knew, I’m hanging by a thread, The web I spin for youIf you only knew I’d sacrifice my beating heart before I lose youI still hold onto the letters you returned, I swear I’ve lived and learned (..)If you only knew, How many times I counted all the words that went wrongIf you only knew How I refuse to let you go,Even when you’re goneI don’t regret any days I spent, nights we shared, or letters that I sent

-I’ll Follow you - Shinedown

You can have the money and the world, The angels and the pearlsEven trademark the color blueJust like the tower we never built, and the shadow of all the guiltWhen the other hand was pointing at youYet the first step is the one you believe in, The second one might be profoundI’ll follow you down to the eye of the storm, don’t worry I’ll keep you warmI’ll follow you down while we are passing through spaceI don’t care if we fall from grace, I’ll follow you down to where forever liesWithout a doubt I’m on your side, There is no where else I’d rather beI’m not about to compromise, Give you up to say goodbyeI’ve got you through the deep, I’ll keep you close to me 

-Miracle - Shinedown

Say it once, tell me twice, Are you certain I’m alright?Just a sign, to remind me that tomorrow’s worth the fightEver changing the storyline that keeps me aliveSo make a wish, and say…Give me life, give me love, Scarlet angel from aboveNot so low, not so high, Keep it perfectly disguisedEvery changing the storyline that keeps me aliveTake another look, Take a look around, It’s you and me, It’s here and nowAs you sparkle in the sky, I’ll catch you while I can, Cause all we are is all I amI just want you to see, What I’ve always believedYou are…The miracle in me 

-A Night to Remember - Shalamar

When you love someone, it’s natural, not demandingAnd that’s one thing I’m proud to say I’ve found in youI’m so glad we’ve reached an understandingNow I know my heart is safe with youSo now my love to you, baby, I surrender

-Out Of Touch - InnerPartySystem

I’m out of touch with all my friends everytime I see them againAll the days I’ve been away… Would it be different if I stayed?You’re losing me, you’re losing me, you’re losing me, againDriving on the empty road… I forgot I fell in love back homeI start to wonder if I changed, I start to wonder if youEven if you, even if you, Even feel the same

*-Pick Up The Phone - The Notwist

You know this place, You know this gloom? We’ve been here before.When life is a loop, You’re in a room without a door.Pick up the phone and answer me at last.Today I will step out of your past.“Trouble that we’ve come to know will stay with us”,With every step it slowly grows. Rub off the rust.Pick up the phone and answer me at last.Today I will step out of your past.

-Point of No Return - Starset

There’s a memory of how we used to be, that I can see through the flamesI am hypnotized as I fantasize, Forgetting lies and painBut I can’t go back. The ashes call my namePouring the fuel, fanning the flamesBreaking the habit and melting the chains, Embracing the fear, chasing the fightThe glow of the fire will light up the nightThe bridges are burning, the heat’s on my faceMaking the past an unreachable place(…) I know, this is the point of no returnIt’s uncontrollable, such a beautiful desireThere’s something sinister about the way it hurtsWhen I watch it burn, Because I can’t go back

-Retrograde - James Blake

You’re on your own, in a world you’ve grownFew more years to go, Don’t let the hurdle fall, so be the girl you loved.I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong. Ignore everybody else, We’re alone nowSuddenly I’m hip. Is this darkness of the dawn? And your friends are gone, When you friends won’t comeSo show me where you fit

*-Small Hands - Keaton Henson

Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder, As we rolled in early morning,Miss your arm dying beneath me, As I lay there simply yawningPlease forget me, you were right dear, I am cold and self-involved,And though I’ll miss you, recent lover, I am weak and therefore fold(..) Close my eyelids, hide my eyes,I’ll be idle in my ideals,Think of nothing else but I. I, and I…. And I,I hope for your life, You can forget about mineJust forget about mine

*-Through the Ghost - Shinedown

Speak of the devil, Look who just walked into the roomThe guilted and faded notion of someone I once knew.All the perfect moments are wrong, All the precious pieces are goneEverything that mattered is just a city of dust covering both of usDid you hide yourself away? I can’t see you anymoreDid you eclipse another day?I used to wake up to the color of your soulDid you hide yourself away? Are you living through the ghost?Did you finally find a place above the shadows so the world will never know?The world will never know you like I doSo many silent sorrows you never hear from againAnd now that you’ve lost tomorrow, is yesterday still a friend?All the bridges we built were burned, Not a single lesson was learned(..) The world will never know you like I do. Like I still do

-Too Far Gone - Sir Sly

I’m stuck inside of these lines I drew, I didn’t speak it but I always knewThat I was too far gone. Can you ever be too far gone?Never mind the things I said before, I overstated and I shouldn’t have swornThat I’m too far gone, Can I ever be too far gone?For you to save me(…) Can we start from the beginning now?It feels like I’m really living nowThey always preached it was black and whiteSo how come somewhere in the middle feels rightAre we too far gone? Can we ever be too far gone?Am I arrogant, should I not assume That the answer’s mine, it can’t belong to youAm I too far gone? Can I ever be too far gone?

*-Transpose - Bad Suns

And I can’t stop even if I wanted to, Up top, maybe I’m simply deludedThat’s right, maybe I’ve been wasting my time, All my timeAnd it’s hard to justify what you can do. I’m so sick and tired of falling throughAnd it’s true, maybe I’ve been wasting my time, All this time, Come creeping, no one can hear you now, Listen so you can show me how something that I’m missing hereSoftly, stab my evil dreams, Faster, help me fall asleepNo one knows, that’s how it goes, All the thoughts that we transpose

*-Who are you Really - Mikky Ekko

So you’re feeling tied up to a sense of controlAnd make decisions that you think are your ownYou are a stranger here, why have you come?Why have you come, lift me higher, let me look at the sunLook at the sun and once I hear them clearly, sayWho, who are you really? And where, where are you going?I’ve got nothing left to prove, Cause I’ve got nothing left to loseSee me bare my teeth for you. Who, who are you?Now you’re moving on and you say you’re aloneSuspicious that this string is moving your bones. We are the fire, we see how they runSee how they run, lift me higher, let me look at the sun

*-Wish You Were Here - Florence + The Machine

I’ve tried to leave it all behind me, but I woke up And there they were beside me. And I don’t believe it but I guess it’s true, Some feelings, they can travel tooOh there it is again, sitting on my chest, Makes it hard to catch my breath, I scramble for the light to changeYou’re always on my mindAnd I never minded being on my own Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home to be where you areBut even closer to you, you seem so very far.And now I’m reaching out with every note I singAnd I hope it gets to you on some pacific windWraps itself around you and whispers in your earTells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

*-You - Keaton Henson

If you must wait, Wait for them here in my arms as I shakeIf you must weep, Do it right here in my bed as I sleepIf you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up aboveIf you must mourn, Don’t do it aloneIf you must leave, Leave as though fire burns under your feetIf you must speak, Speak every word as though it were uniqueIf you must die, sweetheart, Die knowing your life was my life’s best partAnd if you must die, Remember your lifeIf you must fight, Fight with yourself and your thoughts in the nightIf you must work, Work to leave some part of you on this earthIf you must live, darling one, just live.

*-You Could Be Happy - Snow Patrol

You could be happy, and I won’t know. But you weren’t happy the day I watched you go And all the things that I wished I had not said Are played on lips till it’s madness in my head Is it too late to remind you how we were?But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur Most of what I remember makes me sure I should have stopped you from walking out the door You could be happy; I hope you are You made me happier than I’d been by far(..) More than anything I want to see you go Take a glorious bite out of the whole world

I didn’t put everything I have and i’m bothered bc I think my playlist isn’t up to date and I have more, but I will come back to that when i’ll have more time.

Meanwhile take care nonny!!

[sassasquashedgrapes]

Beauty's Entrapment, The Sleeping Beauty series

Hello there! 

 This is inspired by the 2011 Australian film, Sleeping Beauty starring Emily Browning with an Eyes Wide Shut Stanley Kubrick feel. 

I wrote the draft of this story in about mid 2012, and it's a bit obvious I took in some of the characters from the British E4 Series, Made in Chelsea as part of my inspiration for the other supporting characters (hehe, was a huge fan of the show). 

 So anyway, initially, I had intended this to be a short story of sorts, but as I revisited this plotline, I'm not quite sure on whether to continue it, but I hope you like it. 

Enjoy! 

 **Warning: NSFW for nudity, excessive alcohol & drug use, sex with underlying rape theme, and obscene language. Rated R-17.

* * * *

 ***

 Beauty’s Entrapment  

 “I’m telling you, man.  It’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever done,” Walt throws his head back and lets out a guffaw as we listen with piqued interest at a recollection he encountered two fortnights before. 

 “So, basically you just lie in bed next to a naked hot girl and not fuck her?” Oliver Patman rubs his well-manicured hand thoughtfully against his clean shaven chin and taps his index finger emphasizing on the words:  DO. NOT. FUCK.THE.HOT.GIRL, his eyes dubious behind the huge horn-rimmed tortoise shell glasses.  

He’s the only one who is dressed casually in an off-beat gray shirt with a huge cross with a pair of eyes on them and black Diesel pants.  

 The rest of us are in suits and have just agreed meet up for some after lunch drinks at one of the newest bars that opened in SoHo. 

 “Where’s the fun in that?” Spencer Stevens scoffs as he raises his half empty class of martini and points at it imperiously to the bartender to throw him another hit. 

 “You have to admit there’s something poignant about the thought of lying next to someone who’s vulnerable and all you can do is absolutely nothing,” Tom Belhaven murmurs.  

 “Sounds like you can relate with that,” Stevens is at his fourth round and eyes Tom with derisive viciousness, taking in the redhead’s wildly psychedelic patterned pink Missoni shirt that’s given me a migrane in the last hour. As I finish the remains of the Madeira, which I consume hastily because I’m tempted to order a Vodka or something stronger.  I realize that it’s 2 in the afternoon and I have to meet Lyca as she’s been dying to look over apartments on the East Village. 

 “Knock it off, Stevens.” I cock an eyebrow and smirk at the pretentious bastard.  

“He may be a virgin but at least he was never fat.” 

 “Oh, fuck. Must we reminisce?” 

 “What did you call it Spenny, your Adele phase?” Walt chuckled as Spencer purses his lips and grins unabashedly. 

 “I’m sorry, Belhaven.”    

 But Tom is miles away as he cranes his necks and loosens the powder blue bow-tie. 

 Five of us sit idly around the bar as Walt patiently answers each of our questions.  I turn and order a J&B, deciding that Lyca isn’t probably going to care if I have alcohol on my breath when I kiss her.  She’s been doing this new ballet pilates exercise and swears she’s going to look better than Natalie Portman circa Black Swan.  

 Plus with her busy doing PR for a new client dubbed to be the next Zac Efron, it wasn’t a surprise either that my so-called longtime girlfriend is fucking him on the side as a bonus.  

 Not that I care anyway.  She’s already slept with Oliver and had been fucking Spencer behind my back for the past two years I’ve lost track.  

 Carrington Walters the Third, whom we fondly call Walt because he refuses to be given a moniker like the Third as it sounds similar to ‘turd’; has been my closest friend since our days at Eton. 

I grew up with Spencer, Oliver, and was next door neighbors with Tom but because Walt was the descendant of a famous English cookie and my grandfather was the last Earl of Mondevale, it only seemed appropriate that we taint our American blood with our long forgotten British heritage.   

 I rub my eyes occasionally, fighting the urge to sleep.  

 I’ve been working seventy hours a week for the last few months now that I’ve made senior partner at Lyndon & Pryce.  I am the youngest ever to achieve the honor and lately I’ve been slacking my ass off not giving a rat’s ass, blanking in and out during meetings and mergers. 

 I sit and listen to Walt talk animatedly waving his hands on the air like a music conductor as I take in deep swallows of the J&B.  

 Belhaven sits on the other end, not listening to a word, as he eyes the huge Jackson Pollock painting as if it were the most interesting thing on earth while to me it looked like something from an infant who just barfed on a white Egyptian cotton bed sheet.  

Patman looks at his glass occasionally, contemplating if he should order another round but because he’s been on strict detox, he digresses.  

Stevens listens amiably, but he’s been eyeing the pretty brunette from the far side of the table whose been giving me salacious looks since we arrived.

* * * 

 “I’m a friend of Carrington Walters,” I answer the elderly bird-like lady who is dressed like a gothic governess during the Victorian era who greets me at the door.  

 How I managed to even bother with Walt’s suggestion that I go here was a stroke of spontaneity.  

I had done my duty going around looking for apartments with Lyca.  She had opted instead that the East Village had been deemed as ‘unfit’ for her aura and is now looking towards us getting something near Fifth Street, which would still be considered miles away from her parents living in Park Avenue.  

 I assume this is because she’s afraid that someone would catch her bringing home her latest ‘pet’ while I was sitting on my ass in the office, sleeping it off after a round of codeine and alcohol.  

Instead of coming home to my stark white apartment on the West Village, that was covered in at least three muted shades of gray and black with nothing but a gigantic authentic samurai armor for décor as the piece de resistance, I hailed a taxi and asked to be driven at the specified address Walt relayed earlier. 

 It was out of sheer luck that the driver was willing to drive me anywhere near Rhode Island, as I fished in a couple of hundred dollar bills telling him I’d make it worth his while.  

I had gotten off work at 9 and thought, what the fuck, any party that Walt brings in has got to be fun. 

Besides, I thought to myself; I earned it anyway.   

I’m brought to a sprawling three story mansion near Rhode Island that reminds me of one owned by the Vanderbilts with the Neo-Victorian era slash Tudor designed architecture.  

I could tell the place was far younger as the plastered walls still didn’t achieve that aged appearance.  I take a good look inside and could tell by the vast display of dark Persian rugs that this house was merely more for show because it looked too ostentatious for anyone to live here.  

 The bird-like Governess ushers me into something that reminds me of a waiting room with antique black steel ornate chairs lined with plush red velvet that remind me of a Gothic Versailles.  

Now as I recall those days I spent in Paris roaming around King Louis XIV’s chateau, it was indeed like the place but better suited for Bram Stoker’s Dracula and his Vampire Brides with its Baroque styled interior furnishing.  

 Blood. Sex & Rock and Roll. 

 I’m so enthralled that I barely notice the tall statuesque redhead who looks old enough to be my mother.  

She’s expensively dressed in head to toe Chanel and is wearing Christian Louboutin pumps that may have been appropriate for a woman half her age, but because of her undeniably perfect legs she puts it off well enough.  

Her strawberry blonde hair is neatly styled into a coif and her entire outfit reminds me of a Stepford Wife.  H

er cold blue eyes meet my hazel browns and she looks at me from head to toe, giving me an appraisal that I’m not quite sure whether she approves or not. I cock my head to the side and wait for her to finish giving me her stare down.  When she’s done with her inspection, I offer my hand and introduce myself.  She responds by saying that her name is Evelyn Collins.  

I get the feeling that she’s lying, but don’t comment on that either. 

 “I take it you have been briefed in by your friend on how we deal with our matters?” she inquires but it sounds more like a statement than a question.  

 I nod curtly. 

 “We have a moral code here that the girls are not to be penetrated under any circumstances and I am taking your word as a gentleman that you will stand by that rule.” 

 “Yes,” I answer contritely like an obedient prep school boy. 

 She looks again at me to judge my sincerity.  Her piercing gaze narrows as she assesses me by taking in my features as if she were mentally calculating a difficult problem that needed to be solved immediately. 

 “You are not what I expected from Mr. Walters usual referrals.” 

 “Is it because I’m younger?” Based from Walt’s stories, this decadent discovery was a revered endorsement given by his 60 year old uncle who was not only rich as Midas but was an absolute lecher. 

 Walt had been introduced to the lifestyle as a means of finding new ideas on events planning at he’s been working as an events coordinator for one of New York’s bigger, more successful nightclubs.  

This ranked as one of his monthly dalliances, the kind that to most would have been considered like trying a new restaurant or going to that latest spa for the heck of it.  

 From Walt’s endorsement at the bar earlier this afternoon, the rules were that the man could do anything to the heavily drugged women except engage in sexual intercourse, which was probably was something mostly old men who were dependent on Viagra could do without.  

 I heard of brothels during the Japanese Feudal era where men visited places such as these just for the pleasure of lying beside opium laden beautiful women just to watch them sleep.   

 As I recalled during my brief Japanese Literature class in Yale about a novel written by Yasunari Kawabata telling a tale of where rich men of a certain elderly age paid high amounts of money to visit a place where they could spend a night sleeping with beautiful young girls.  

 So it was no surprise that Evelyn Collins would readily assume this. 

 However, her next words take me by surprise. 

 “It’s because you’re attractive,” she says flatly.  

 I’m well over six feet in height, weigh 180 pounds of lean muscle, I exercise regularly and have been joining triathlons since I entered law school in Harvard.  I had dark brown hair and piercing hazel brown eyes that complimented my tanned skin.  I owe it my mother, whose Malaysian and Portuguese heritage added to the Eurasian mix had blended it well enough that I still managed to maintain the best of the Caucasian features, but with dark, bronze-skinned coloring that many of my friends envied.  

 Walt on the other hand, compared to me was less attractive standing at five foot seven inches with a shock of pale blond hair, an Irish boxer’s nose that often reminded me of a parrot, and had a tendency to turn beet red if he had too much sun exposure.  

His uncle was a 300 pound version of my friend.     

 She then swiftly changes the topic and asks briefly about my background.  I feel no shame and tell her about myself, what schools I’ve attended, that I’ve been living in Manhattan for most of my life except that time when my parents sent me off to Eton, my travels and other particulars.  

She seems neither disapproving nor impressed and I get this feeling that she employs this method rather out of courtesy than curiosity.  

 I’m also more than certain that there have been more distinguished men who have like me gone through the same process, yet somehow I feel as if she’s also testing me: whether to see I am worthy to even be stuck in this presence.  

After my ‘interview’, she pauses for a moment and I bite the urge of excusing myself and getting the fuck out of here as I feel as if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. 

 After what felt like a contemplation that took almost forever, Evelyn finally speaks.  

“I’ve changed my mind about you.  I won’t give you the usual treatment that Mr. Walters expects.  Yours will be something….different, but special nonetheless.” 

She adds as she lifts the white porcelain phone beside her and speaks in a low, soft voice in fluent French that I could barely comprehend the words she utters except for the distinct word ‘virgin girl’.    

She hangs up and offers me a genteel smile and a nod signaling that I am to follow her to the next adjacent room.  

She opens the paneled doors and ushers me inside a huge bedroom heavily draped in dark red curtains that cover the high paneled windows.  She then nods and mutters goodnight to me, leaving me alone as I take in the full view of the room but instead of minding the décor, my eyes zero in on the woman sleeping underneath the covers of the huge bed that is centrally located in the room.  

As I approach her, I am unmindful of the fact that the walls are heavily painted in deep shades of red with a high back chair that rests besides a huge king-sized four poster bed that’s decked with a heavy Oak wood headboard and decked with sheets that are matched in leathery brown hues and red giving it an aristocratic, yet highly masculine feel.  

 I stand beside the naked girl with burnished honey colored hair and pale lucent white skin that complements the bed as if she herself were included in the ornate decoration. 

 Just by looking at her I automatically know that she’s young, probably at least barely legal or at least 18 years of age. Which isn’t too young for a man of my age at 25 years, except that she had probably had men far older than myself. 

 I continue to stare as I watch her sleep, almost anticipating her to wake up, but her even breathing suggests that whatever Evelyn had given her had knocked her out cold. 

 I marvel how she really is a pretty fetching thing.  

There was an innocent sexiness about her in that delicately angled face with russet colored thick eyelashes and delicately arched eyebrows that have been shaped to perfection; a light dusting across her pert straight nose and pink sensual lips that reminded me of those pretty ingénues starring on those teen dramas that my younger sister loved to watch. 

 She had the look right down to a pat.  While myself, I preferred dark haired sophisticated, sensual women like Lyca, whose long straight chestnut hair and ebony eyes and tan skin on well toned curves were more befitting for a centerfold on Maxim’s. 

 However, I could care less about my girlfriend at the moment for there was something enthralling about the sleeping girl that as if she could hear me, I find myself easily conversing with her. 

 “Hi, my name is…” I drift in midsentence, realizing she could give a fuck what my name is and is probably dreaming of some prince charming who looked like me that would rescue her and get her out of here instead of being caressed by some geezer who’s old enough to be her grandfather.  

 I smile in wry amusement wondering how indeed she would react if she knew that instead of being stuck with a saggy assed lecher, she was to spend a night with me. 

 I’m finding this no-penetration rule thing a lot harder to abide by the minute. 

 So instead, I fish around my suit jacket and take out a pack of Dunhills.  I shrug myself out of my jacket and toss it to the chair beside me and sit on the free side of the bed as I cross my long legs.  

 Due to the enormous size of the bed, I don’t feel the need to move her and move in closer that I’m on the opposite side, acting as a reluctant guardian as I lie on top of the covers while she’s underneath and almost with a slight hesitation, I turn towards her as if to ask permission to what I’m about to do.

 “Do you mind?  Of course you don’t.” 

 I light up the first cigarette and take a deep breath, inhaling the goodness of the nicotine adding up to my system already mixed with two tablets of Vicodine that I’ve downed with a shot of Remy Martin.  

 I’m relieved Evelyn barely noticed how bloodshot my eyes were when I had first arrived at the mansion as I again turn to take a look at my lovely bed partner whose deep breathing was in sync that her mouth exhaled in a delicately sweet sigh that sounded incredibly erotic for something so menial.  

For the first time, in what I may have considered may have been far longer than I could ever recall, here was a female who was unaware of my presence.  

She appears oblivious to the man smoking beside her as she continues with her current comatose state, unmindful of the smoke emanating my hands.  

 I had been used to countless of women giving me fascinated looks, or wondering if I was the devil incarnate like how Evelyn had done earlier. 

 I’m also accustomed to being talked to incessantly to by women like Lyca, who could just never seem to be content on whether to fire her current facialist who does home services or take advantage of her friend’s newly opened spa, but thinks that she isn’t ready to trust herself especially with the Vietnamese as she feels like one of them might do a Viet Cong on her face that might scare off her new tricolored Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppy, Alex who is said to be of the same litter as the dog belonging to Kate Middleton. 

 In fact, for the longest time that I could ever recall, this is the first time I felt that a woman is completely oblivious to my presence.  

I’m not sure if it’s because of the drug interaction to my system that’s done me in or just out of pure ennui that I begin having a one sided conversation with the woman sleeping beside me.  

 I think of a mundane to talk about to initially amuse me, since there really wasn’t much to do. I  wasn’t sleepy either in spite of my inebriated drugged state, so I talk about my day at work, about my relationship with Lyca and how I wasn’t sure if I wanted to really marry her because her father had just made me senior partner at his firm and somehow expected that out of me. 

 I tell her about my mother which was rarely something I did because I haven’t spoken about her since the day she walked out of my life and divorced my father for plastic surgeon from Brazil who turned out to have a fake license and is now being sued heavily for malpractice. 

 I then turned the conversation about my boyhood and Walt and how I had come around to finding this place.  

 Then finally I describe to her my father, my older brother and little sister whom I haven’t spoken to in a year because I just ‘didn’t feel like talking’ to them. I realize that after what seemed like a soliloquy that had drained me out completely, added to the fact that I had just run out of cigarettes and that dawn was close approaching, I take a long puff of my last cigarette and glance again at the still sleeping form beside me. 

 The entire night she had not moved a muscle but that had not bothered me in the least because I knew from her heavy breathing that somewhere in the deepest depths of her slumber, she had perhaps dreamt of a man who did nothing but sit beside her and give a brief summary about his life. 

 Perhaps she dreamt too if she had wondered who I was, what I looked like, who my people where, and my character. 

 But alas, she just slept it off without a toss like she could give a fuck. I was beginning to like her already. 

 I threw a grim smile over that delectable sleeping form and said, “Well, goodnight to you as well.  Sleep while you can.” 

 With that, I put out my cigarette butt on the ash tray and sleep beside her without touching her. It was the deepest, most peaceful slumber I had ever experienced. 

It lasted for an hour. 

 ***  

“You cheeky devil you.” Walt was grinning ear to ear as we have lunch at the new Japanese restaurant at Tribeca as news from Evelyn had reached my precocious friend about my dalliance last night.  

 “When I told the boys about that sleeping beauty brothel, I would have expected Belhaven or even Stevens to have gone there.  But you?  Have you finally broken things up with Angelica already?” 

 “Lyca doesn’t know I went there so I would appreciate you keep your mouth shut,” I answer dryly as I reach in another serving of raw prawn and dunk it on the hot plate in front of me. 

 “Hey, you know you can trust me, I’m your boy!” Walt isn’t exactly thrilled with my relationship with Lyca knowing her turbulent history but he knows better than to meddle as her family also handles the legal part of his business. 

 “Evelyn was rather impressed by you.” I snort in disbelief. 

 “She looked like she was debating whether I was the spawn of Satan then I get upgraded by being assigned to sleep with the jeune fille vierge.” I say, repeating the exact French words used to describe the delightfully sensual young woman, whom I had truly little doubt was still a virgin in reality given with looks like hers.  

Walt’s eye grow twice in size in amazement and he gives a hoot of laughter.  

“That’s fucking amazing! Do you know what that means?” He taps me against my shoulder and inspects my reaction and I shrug in indifference as I continue to eat my noodles. 

 “It’s like the highest honor the House gives to their guests.”  

 When Walt doesn’t see any recognition on my face he quickly explains.  

“Remember when we were in Yale and we had that class with Mr. Ichikawa on Japanese Feudalism?  He gave us that novel to read on our spare time about the House of Sleeping Beauties where this old impotent dude practically sleeps with every virgin in the house, saying that one chick is different from another in sleep.  

 The same rules follow in the Chateau de Beaute Dorme as my Uncle calls it.  It starts as a bidding.  

All the gentlemen of the room are presented with a beavy of beautiful women wearing Venetian masks to conceal their features, dressed up in lingerie, serving them dinner, barely speaking a word to them as they dine.  

The women wear little make-up except for the lipstick that’s the same shade as, get this, their vagina.” Walt snickers as he recounts the dinner he had to endure not being able to chat nor charm the women. “ He takes a long sip of his Asahi Super dry, as if running out of breath from explaining before he resumes. 

 “The most prominent server is the one who apart from all the other women who wear different colored lingerie, she’s decked in pure white and is called the jeune fille vierge and is also known as the head server.  She’s the most special of all of them, because not only is she fucking expensive, but her Duenna, that’s Evelyn to us only bestows that honor to the one they call Le Roi Charmant, who could either be the Head of the table or the male host or the highest selected bidder.”

Walt then gives me a pointed look, like he’s examining me in some revalida.  

 “But I see it on your face that you weren’t invited to a banquet nor did you have to bid for her either.” 

 “No, I wasn’t.” I answered slightly bewildered by the notion. 

 “And that’s what makes it twice more impressive in your case,” Walt laughs as he quickly downs his second round of sake that his gin blossom is starting to show.  

 “You have to get an invite first.  I only told it to you guys so Evelyn could register your names and arrange a party for us but I guess when she met you, she thought differently and made you go all the way instead.  Which reminds me, how much did you pay her?” 

 I answer in the amount agreed upon on that first night.  

Walt now looks amazed. 

 “That’s barely even close to the asking price for a jeune fille.  My uncle wanted the same privilege and even charged twice, but Evelyn decline and offered him a different girl, one she said that had far more, erm, experience in dealing with men.” 

Walt looks over his shoulder as if he doesn’t want to be heard and lowers his voice. 

“You see there was this incident with a previous girl who was selected as the jaune fille vierge but woke up earlier than scheduled and found that she was lying naked to a dead old man.” 

He shakes his head, as if trying to get that image off his head.   

“Rumor has it that the poor girl was so traumatized that she was confined to a mental hospital and never recovered.  So these days, they’re more careful and selective with their patrons and the girls they choose.” 

 “So are the jaune filles really virgins?”   

 Walt grins devilishly.  “Who knows?  The only way you’ll find out is if you stick your cock in her, but that’s against the rules.  Though I would like to see someone try.”  

 *** 

 I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to see her and do this again, but I find myself looking at the card given me by Evelyn.  I dial the number and make arrangements with Claude, the House chauffer who is a taciturn fellow as we drive in silence as thoughts of the turn of last night’s events run through my mind.  

 I cancel my date with Lyca, telling her that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to sleep early.  

 I could tell from the tone of her disinterested voice that she didn’t really care even though she had at least made an effort to pout her prettily saying that she was going to miss me.  

 But my thoughts aren’t even remotely centered on Lyca’s lips but are towards someone else’s. 

 “It’s good again to see you,” Evelyn pauses and gives me a formal nod when she sees me again at the waiting area. 

 “I trust you had enjoyed your first night.”



“I did,” I admitted sheepishly.  “It was quite unexpectedly pleasant.” 

 “Then I take it you are not interested in choosing another girl?” 

 “No, I like the first one just fine.”  I felt ridiculous as I didn’t even know her name.  Polite conversation tells me that I should at least inquire. 

 “You realize that we normally charge a higher fee for one such as prized as our Jaune Fille Vierge.  I trust Mr. Walters has informed you of such matters?” 

 “Yes,” I answer acerbically, waving an air of dismissal as I hand her the Centurion Card which she graciously hands over to her assistant. 

 “Which reminds me, what is her name?”  I ask as she hands me back my credit card that I hastily shove back to my wallet. 

 “Cassandra,” she lies blithely barely batting an eyelash as she leads me again to a different room.  

This room is much different than the first.  A bit more spacious than the red velvet room, but still ornately decorated in the same romantic Baroque taste that matched the other interior decors of the mansion. 

 It still had the same king-sized bed, but this time styled differently in muted white, lilac and gold tones with the bed post decorated in gold carvings reminiscent of Italian Capitone.  

 It was like a setting from the Renaissance and I felt like Casanova about to seduce a beautiful young princess who was again lying naked, this time on top of the covers where her beautiful flawless body was exposed save for the delicate gold Venetian mask covering her face.  

 I grin and take long easy strides toward her and pause taking in the full view of her taunt perfectly shaped breasts, flat stomach, long shapely legs and notice that she’s also had a Brazilian wax as her nether regions are free from pubic hair. 

 I shake of the stirring I start to feel in between my legs and opt for humor instead focusing on the costume covering her face. 

 “I see, are we attending a party?” I chuckle at her and grin as I sit down beside her and trace a finger across the Gold Fleur de Lys mask that not only covers the delicate beauty underneath, but somehow it adds a subtle mystery making her just as alluring which I found almost impossible, having never to compare it with anyone woman I’ve ever been with.  

 My eyes rove around lovingly at the notes displayed on the top of her mask and absentmindly I lift her gently, the back of her long, dark golden hair brushing against my arm as I trace the golden swirls around the mask that match the color of her hair.  

 She relaxes against me, trusting me completely as I hold her upper body with my arm and as I look down at her as desire shoots up my system.  

 The first night I was amused by her, but lust has taken a strong hold of me that it’s taken me a bit by surprised that I look at my surroundings instead of focusing on that gorgeous face where I’m again given a conscious self reminder as I look at the conspicuously hidden cameras that I’m also aware that we’re not fully alone either. 

 I try to recall the previous night if there had been any cameras but also due to the smaller size of the room, it might have been more difficult to install one.  I had come to an earlier conclusion that perhaps Evelyn was testing me the first time by seeing if I could truly keep my word. 

 The second room, though far more grand in comparison, was also stark in feeling and I knew that my behavior was again being observed.  

 I shrug these thoughts aside and concentrate on the beauty who was a bit uncomfortable wearing her mask.  

Almost without thinking, I gently remove the restraining object and ran my fingers across her soft silky hair.  

 It was beginning to feel unnerving staying so close to someone so exquisitely tempting yet completely forbidden.  I carry her entire weight on my arms easily and with a free arm shift her weight on my right side, the side of her face nestling comfortably against my shoulder as I pull the covers down hastily.  I know her unconscious state also makes her unaware of her positioning so I’m just as careful to support her head as I kick off my shoes and gently lay her down beside me.  

 It seems innocent enough at first but somewhere between carrying her and the thought of that gorgeous body naked against mine brings my libido senses into hyper drive. 

 Fuck, this is the most erotic thing I’ve ever done and I’ve barely removed my own clothes.  

I’m aware that my erection is desperately begging to be sprung free off my navy blue Armani pinstripe suit pants and I hastily remove my matching Armani blazer and tie as I sit straddling myself on top of her in my vest, white blouse and pants.  

 I keep my lust meter on check and throw the remaining articles of clothing from my body until I’m down to my Calvin Klein boxers. 

 I’m breathing heavily watching the easy rise and fall of her breasts that I close my eyes and try to remember that I cannot under any circumstances do what I’ve been dying to do to her the minute I walked in the room.

  I lean over and nuzzle her neck, inhaling the deep scent that is her mixed with a heady combination that reminds me of strawberries, champagne, and lily of the valley. 

 “Who are you?” 

I ask as my voice goes hoarse before I run my tongue against her neck, tracing it upwards towards her ear, tasting and savoring the very flavor that I know only belongs to her and so far, I could barely recall anyone, even Lyca tasting just as sweet and succulent.  

 “Tell me your name.”  I demand again kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, and her nose as I run my hands through that dark titian mass of hair then with one arm supporting my upper body because I’m afraid with my built might bruise that perfectly smooth lovely skin of hers while the other hand caresses her chin and cups it towards me as I aim my lips for her mouth. 

 I kiss her slowly, tasting those luscious pink lips that have haunted me from the time I left her last night as I revel in the knowledge that I could never have imagined anything better than this moment as I graze my teeth gently across her velvety soft lips, cupping slight pressure with one hand on her chin. 

 I groan  and continue to kiss her as my hands move further down on her breasts to fondle them and I knew that whatever I had done had aroused her as much as I could feel her nipples harden undeneath my touch.  

 It feels almost like heaven, but not just quite until I’m completely naked and I could feel my cock poking underneath begging for the same release in that junction between her thighs. 

 I stop myself from the urge to dry hump her and open my eyes and watch hoping that my Sleeping Beauty would awaken and give me the response I’ve been trying to elicit in these past few moments.  

 Instead I find with a huge disappointment that my seductive efforts have been in vain as she continues to lie peacefully, unaware of what has just happened.  

She just lies there, absolute unaware of my physical assault that I’m shocked for a moment that I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers as I again breathe heavily trying to erase every erotic thought that’s drumming now in my tormented brain.  

 Never, ever under hell or high water was I going to rape a woman, let alone a virgin (that is if she truly is still one) while she’s knocked off unconscious. 

 I’ve attended the most insane frat parties during my time in Yale, even going as far as being invited to other parties from Brown and Sarah Lawrence. 

 I’ve seen a lot of drunk, unconscious, albeit half-naked attractive college girls but never had I once contemplated in engaging something like this that it makes me feel like a vile lecher. 

 I was no better than Walt’s uncle Francis and even Evelyn couldn’t trust the man to spend five minutes alone with her.

 My thoughts then viciously turn to the other ‘men’ who may want her on those banquets Walt described.  I’ve trusted that the impotent dirty old men before me couldn’t have gone far, but I didn’t want to think that there was anyone else who would want this girl more than I.

 I already made  up my mind.  

I barely knew anything about her and already I wanted to be her champion. 

 Her guardian.  

Her knight-in-fucking-shining-armor. 

 I smile tenderly at her.  She answers in a symphony of deep, heavy breathing that I’m amazed that this girl barely snores as I cup my hands on her face and kiss the side of her mouth.  

 I’m also glad that my erection has ceased knowing that in the next succeeding nights, she will be mine alone and though I’m highly aware that I could never make love to her, she could at least have me in her most vulnerable state. 

 With a reluctant sigh, I roll off her and sit up to pull the covers up our bodies. 

 I lay her head underneath my chest where our legs are entangled as I lean my head against the top of her head, taking in the mix of strawberries and lily as I close my eyes in contentment. 

 Before I drift off to slumber, she briefly half opens her eyes and responds to my previous questions as if answering one in a dream. 

 “Emily,” she murmurs tiredly as she closes her eyes once more.

 *** 

 “I’ve been trying to call you for days, where have you been?” Walt yells from one side of the road when he finds me crossing down a block near my apartment.  

 It’s been three weeks since that fateful night and I’ve been spending each night with my Sleeping Beauty.  It was a mid-afternoon Saturday and I find myself experiencing the most excruciating migraine as I feel my sinuses pounding along to the point that I feel like one side of my mouth has gone numb and my left incisor is going to fall off.   

 I occasionally press the side of my nose to stop the pain.   I search for my pocket for Xanax and Valium as I’m feeling anxious all over again from the pain.  I had been prescribed previously by a psychiatrist of these medications and because he’s a good friend of the family’s I’ve always had a stand-by prescription. 

 I pop them quickly on my mouth as I find Walt easing his way up to me and I quickly down it with the Gatorade bottle I’ve been holding on to for my morning jog.  

 My mind hasn’t been really focused lately, I’ve barely had a moment’s peace that the only moments that I do finally rest are when I’m with her.  

Even if it means having to spend a chaste two or three hours alone with her, I didn’t give a shit. 

 I needed her like I needed to breathe.  

 “I heard you broke it off with Lyca.” 

 “Oh fuck, not you too.” I moan in protest.  

Here you’d think Walt would be happy but he looks….concerned. 

 “Seriously, are you ok?  You haven’t been yourself lately.  You barely hang out with us, you’re chronically late at work and you look like shit.   Christ, you haven’t been getting enough sleep either.” 

 He throws a worried look at my haggard face shakes his head in dismay. 

 “Man, I know this is none of my business and I know I’m partly to blame for this but you’ve got to stop seeing that girl.  That little sleeping beauty house party was supposed to be just for fun.  Like that time when we got high on coke and skied on the Alps for the fucking sheer thrill of it.  If I knew you were going go all loopy on just one girl---“



“Leave it,” I warn as my eyes turn flat cold.

 “Jeez, man. Settle down! I’m not the enemy here,” Walt raises both his hands up in truce as I grimace at my behavior. 

 Weeks have gone by since that first night. It was an obsession, a drug I couldn’t stop.  

 Walt have every right to call my shit but yet here I am. 

 I don’t even recognize myself, like my life had been turned down in this need to be with this girl. 

 I couldn’t understand it, hell, I couldn’t understand my own behavior.



I keep my silence and pat Walt’s shoulder as a truce.

 He grunts and gives me a sour look. 

 “Look man, it’s gotta stop. Whatever it is.  You don’t even look like yourself, shit.  Have you seen yourself in front of the mirror?” Walt says quietly, taking note of the bristles growing on my chin. 

 “I can’t stop thinking of her,” I answer rubbing my hands on my face. 

 “Then don’t.  Figure out who she is, where she’s from, what she’s doing.  Get her out of that shit slumber whore party and be her knight in shining armor, that would be the one thing the young hotshot lawyer, defender of the peace and all morality, Philip Jason Young I know would have done.” He looks at me expectantly.   

It’s at that moment as Walt and I are arguing I see her walk by. 

Sleeping Beauty. 

 My Emily. 

 Except out in the sunny mid-afternoon of New York, she's not asleep, but very much awake and crossing the street.  

She’s wearing a teal colored shirt dress with a denim messenger wrapped around her slender both and beat-up white sneakers walking like as if she’s in a hurry. 

 Without warning, I follow her.  Ignoring Walt as I mutter something inaudible, probably an apology, leaving him at my wake with an incredulous look.

  I don’t care. 

 I follow her.  But not close enough to catch up to her.  

 There was no way I was just going to introduce myself to her.  It might creep her out. 

 Heck, if I were in her shoes, I’d be running for the hills, if she found out what I had done to her in her defenseless sleep. 

 She walks in some non-descript diner across the street.  

As I enter, I find myself sitting in one of the comfortable bench type counters.  The place had a rustic, old-school 1950’s feel to it.  Whoever was running it did their best to keep it running considering this was one of the lesser better parts of the city.   Not exactly Hell’s Kitchen, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. 

I watch in silence as she talks to one of the staff as she makes a beeline inside the staff room. 

 She emerges a few minutes later donning an apron and I realize she works here as one of the waitress.  

 A myriad of panic and excitement bubbles in me as I see her walk my way. 

 “Hi, what can I get you?”  She asks cheerfully, completely unaware of who I am and what I’ve done to her those long tortuous nights.

 ***



 Story ends here.   Or does it?

 Tune in to find out more on the second part Beauty’s Entrapment: Beauty in a Cage.

[aelahq]

such a shame to see such pretty faces wandering in american wastelands. good luck scarlette braya & coredelia bennet, you’re gonna need it. ( emily browning & ellie bamber is now taken ! hope you find aela soon, hannah ! remember to submit your account in the next twelve hours or the zombies might just get your muse. )

( emily browning, cisfemale, she/her, 32 ) · for a member of THE MILITA, i’d call you lucky for making it this far. rumor around camp has it that SCARLETTE BRAYA is a CAPRICORN and used to live in WASHINGTON, D.C. i think i heard someone say that they’re very CYNICAL, RUTHLESS, AND TENSE but who wouldn’t be in the middle of the apocalypse, y’know, especially cause they’re a SCOUT. anyway, they remind me of that song — ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH AND THE CODEINE SCENE by HOZIER. god i miss spotify. ( raw knuckles picked at over and over,sitting in silence surrounded by noise, ignoring the past in order to endure the present, dreaming of the lives hidden within the walls they now stay within. / hannah ).

( ellie bamber, cisfemale, she/her, 23 ) · for a member of THE COLLECTIVE, i’d call you lucky for making it this far. rumor around camp has it that COREDELIA BENNET is a LEO and used to live in ATLANTA, GEORGIA. i think i heard someone say that they’re very COMPASSIONATE, SURPRISING, BLUNT but who wouldn’t be in the middle of the apocalypse, y’know, especially cause they’re a MEMBER. anyway, they remind me of that song — MOVEMENT by HOZIER. god i miss spotify. ( trying to find innocence in the world,charcoal sketches of people who could be gone in an instant, messages scrawled on walls in a hope for her family, enjoying in the little luxuries still available to the world. / hannah ).

[thorndale-industries]

Kiss the Cook

The dawn slowly swallowed that daylight while Gillian drove back home. She hummed the song that was playing on her radio, tapping along the beat with her pointer finger.

“She’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene…“.

Just a few moments later she arrived at her garage that opened automatically as soon as it recognized her black Mustang. Quickly she turned the engine off and grabbed the gray jacket that was laying on the backseat. It was a long and exhausting day that mostly consisted of dreadful paperwork. A cold autumn breeze greeted her before the garage door closed itself again.

The white haired CEO stretched her tired limbs and exhaled deeply before going to the doors that lead straight to her home. Finally she could leave all the bad things behind her, even if just for a few moments.

The lock flashed in a bright green tone when she held her ridiculously huge bunch of keys before it and put the right one in. In a time where everything is automated and digitized she couldn’t help herself but she only felt truly save with old systems. Maybe because no one knew the risks of new technologies better than her or it was plain paranoia, she couldn’t tell. As soon as she opened the door, a spicy and delicious smell came to her, inviting and reminding her that she hasn’t eaten for several hours. She stepped right in and was surprised to see her husband standing in the kitchen, putting plates on the kitchen isle in front of him. He was wearing a slightly unbuttoned white shirt and black pants, a strand of red hair resting on his forehead and widely smiling as soon he saw her.

“Your timing is perfect as always, my love! I just finished cooking for us”, he proclaimed joyfully and approached her to give her a soft welcoming kiss on her lips. “I am sure you will love it”, he continued. Gillian, in a state of surprise and shock, alternately looked at him and the pan that was standing on the stove.

“Did you really cook yourself or did you just order something?”, she inquired with a crooked smile and playful tone, poking him gently. Robert took her jacket and put it on one of the chairs nearby and went back to the stove. “What a horrible accusation! Don’t you trust me?!”, he asked with an exaggerated offended expression on his face.

“Shall I remind you of the cookie incident, my dear? Or the spinach incident or the..”, Gillian sat down at the isle, trying not to laugh.

“Those were nothing but awful coincidences, love. Actually, this here was pretty spontaneous. I passed by a Japanese grocery store after finishing my business in the city and I still have that cooking book you brought me once. I immediately thought about your love for Yakisoba, so decided to cook it for us today. A little dinner for two, no?”

Page came to her with the pan in his hand and cautiously placing the noodles on their plates. Hot steam raised up and and the delicious smell reached an unbearable level for Gillian. She had to admit that it really looked good and she couldn’t wait to taste what he has created. Affectionately she looked at him while he poured some sake into two glasses. It were moments like these between them that made her forget about all the stress and misery out there. Right now, the world stood still and only the two of them existed. She could feel the warm and calming feeling coming up inside of her that only he was able to give her. The feeling of true safety.

As he sat down next to her, she gently grabbed him by the lapel of his shirt to kiss him deeply and passionately. “You know what they always say: Kiss the cook.”

[kitchenlegrecords]

First review for the Postspiderhole Ensemble on Chain DLK

Very beautiful review of the Post Spiderhole Ensemble album on Chain D.L.K. <3! Thanks Thom Reardon for nice words! https://www.chaindlk.com/reviews/?id=11485

  There is something alluring, at least to me, about a  cassette-only release of well-constructed noise. The Post Spiderhole Ensemble is just one dude, a German named A.K. (Andrew Kemp), but damn if Herr Kemp  doesn’t make some delicious and decidedly beautiful sonic trouble here on False  Alarms and Excess Baggage. The word “collage” comes to mind as you dive  inhere. There are bells and whistles and motherfucking melody, too. “Precious  Fragments” kicks things off with some nifty little indie rock (imagine a bunch  of super stoned music nerds holed up in a basement somewhere doing bongs and  making magic) walled in by killer sad clown horns and buzzy machinery. If you  dig old Fly Ashtray, you’ll love it. As the record progress, Kemp adds in touches of goth-y drone  that is reminiscent of the kind of babies Tones on Tail and Coil would have had  if they were on a codeine binge. So good. I really like this cassette a lot. It’s  got that familiar lo-fi buzz crackling all through it that reminds me of an old  Sears stereo I had growing up. Everything I listened to on it sounded warm and  loving and imperfect. False Alarms and Excess Baggage has been in the  making for the past 15 years and that both bums me out and makes me smile. I’m  bummed because it tells me I could have been enjoying some of these nuggets for  the past decade and a half and I’m smiling because Kemp cares enough about his  art to be thoughtful in how he releases it. “Shattered Knees” is all bassy  throb, weaving in and out of distorted treble heavy guitar-ish noise. The vocals  add to the hypnosis of it all and lend to the languid head bobs I can’t help  but do as I listen. A.K. gets you moving on this record.I wish there was a chronological order as to when the songs  were recorded because there does seem to be progress here as around track 8 (“ShipsIn The Sand”), which is one of the few slightly forgettable tracks on here,   there does seem to be a shift in production values. It would also be great to  have information as to how A.K.’s influences expanded over the 15 years these  songs were being made. “Grin At The Sun,” for example, sounds like a deconstructed  Strokes song. Was he listening to a lot of Strokes when he made this? I’d love  to know!  The rock and roll ecstasy that is “Trust The Dollar” is all  new wave, fuzz, and we’re back to the indie rockers in the basement, although  the weed has worn off and the caffeine has kicked in here. Is there anything betterthan a great riff that is kinda backwards and weird? This song is kinda like   something corporate Beck, not young, cool Beck, would have written and then  thought, “No, the record label won’t go for this.” Perhaps the greatest thing about this cassette, though, is  that it gives hope. It is filled with hope, really. The hope for more of The Post   Spiderhole Ensemble music in the future. The hope that anyone with some good  ideas and the patience to learn some tech and put it all together can make a  wonderfully fun and clever record.  The  hope that it will never end, even though “Paris, With the Same Age On His Bathtub”  ends this cassette perfectly.

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I Visited Saudi Arabia Before They Opened The Country To Tourists, And Here’s What I Saw

Saudi Arabia was the world’s most difficult country to visit for a non-Muslim as it did not issue tourist visas. Only Muslims making the Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, were allowed to enter.

But things may change as Head of the Saudi Commission for Tourism and National Heritage, Prince Sultan bin Salman bin Abdulaziz announced that Saudi Arabia will begin issuing tourist visas in the first quarter of 2018.

A few years ago, the government issued tourist visas for a short time before doing putting an end to it and I was able to obtain one. This rare opportunity to visit a country that regularly makes the headlines allowed me to discover over the course of two weeks a culture preserved in a highly conservative society.

Before setting foot on Saudi territory, one must make sure to leave at home:

– any alcohol (including alcohol filled chocolates);

– non-Muslim religious items;

– pork-based products;

– pornographic books;

– games of chance;

– medicines containing codeine.

More info: ericlafforgue.com

Throughout the stay, a police escort will clear the path for us – officially to make our movements easier

In fact, the Kingdom has been the target of many al-Qaeda attacks against Westerners for years… An additional reason not to open quickly the country to these potential targets.

“Start of the sacred area”

These arches that are highly visible on the roads around Jeddah mark the boundaries of the areas where non-Muslims may travel. Beyond them, the road leads to Mecca. Breaking the law can result in imprisonment or even death penalty.

Saudi people like saying that if you find an open door, you can go in and you will be offered some tea

Most of the time, you will be welcomed by an Indian servant and will never see any woman. This hospitality is a given in small villages, where you will be invited to drink tea and eat dates, the pride of the nation.

No, you are not in a Swiss chalet but in a tent in the Saudi desert

Urban families love to spend a few days in their tent, usually over the weekend. A modern version of the Bedouin life of their ancestors, but with satellite TV, air conditioning, and a fridge.

Falcon hunting in the Al Jouf desert

A pigeon is released into the air before a falcon chases it down. The owner jumps into his four-wheel drive to try and follow his bird of prey. But the hunt is short-lived – in less than a minute, the falcon has killed the pigeon. It receives its head and heart as a reward. The owner never leaves his pet out of his sight, and for good reason: the falcon cost him 20,000 dollars.

The Saudis worship camels

Many own farms in the desert where these animals are raised by Sudanese Rashaida. The most beautiful camels also generate substantial income thanks to the breeding services of the reproductive males.

This is an ancestral passion that can also be found on the rocks of Abar Hima, a site on the ancient incense road…

A hunter chasing a camel with a spear. Saudi Arabia is full of prehistoric petroglyphs on sites that are unprotected and accessible freely.

Each encounter with a Bedouin is an opportunity to taste some foamy camel milk

It is a protein-rich milk sold in supermarkets and it is reputed to have medicinal properties in the prevention of some forms of cancer.

Saudi Arabia is the world’s third largest producer of dates – they are all over the markets

The palm tree is one of the main symbols of the country. The stalls were deserted at the time of one of the five daily prayers because, a few minutes before, the muttawa, the religious police, came to remind the vendors of their duties and punish the ones who cheat.

The only women you will be able to talk to in the street: emigrants, who are all Muslim

Pictured here a Somali girl in the streets of old Jeddah.

Under the weight of ancestral traditions, women are deprived of many rights in Saudi Arabia

To go out, they must wear an abaya, like this young girl.

Without the permission of their male legal guardian, whether it be their husband, father or brother, women are denied freedom to do things

Some of them are as ordinary as enjoying a coffee in a patio, swimming at the pool, enrolling at the university, going to a restaurant with a man who is not a relative, traveling, or even riding a bicycle.

Revolver cases for men on the Najran market

In the south of the country, it is not unusual to see very young drivers

Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia is the only country in the world where women did not have the right to drive until late 2017. This was not stated in any law, but defying the ban put women – and their guardian – at risk of serious fines.

Saudi society has many rules on people’s social status

Families have a right to special treatment – they board planes first or enjoy reserved secluded space in restaurants. Single people also have special status and will, for instance, be grouped together to take a cable car. As a tourist, I enjoyed VIP family treatment.

Saudi men rub their noses together to say hello, like Eskimos!

They may also walk while holding hands in friendship. Do not mistake it for a sign of homosexuality, which is severely punished in Saudi Arabia though less so than extramarital affairs.

Many imagine the Kingdom to abound with luxury buildings and signs of wealth

But outside of the cities, the country remains rural and in some places, you can see scenes that are reminiscent of « biblical » times, like here with a camel turning the mill for the pressing of sesame oil.

A Somali girl begging in the streets of Jeddah

Since 2013, the authorities have carried out a campaign to send back hundreds of thousands of illegal migrant workers, resulting in abuses against many of them and their forced return in a country at war.

A flea market in Najran

Many places are more reminiscent of the Gaza strip than an oil state. Seeing my astonishment, the man explained that despite State assistance and the existence of many free services, the cost of living has forced him to sell these items. Saudi Arabia is home to many poor people and the government has launched plans to put an end to poverty.

Until recently, these towers were used as granaries

Some villages are surrounded by an outer defense wall and foreigners – including Saudis from other regions – are not welcome as the local tribes have famously kept their traditional way of life and reject the central authority.

The flower men live in Yemen and Saudi Arabia

They wear crowns made of flowers and herbs and live in the hills. Meeting them at the souk of Al Farsha was really special. Hospitality is a concept that is foreign to flower men. Some of them seem to have stepped out of ancient frescos. Our mandatory police escort couldn’t wait to leave.

The Bin Hamsan house in Khamis Mushayt, in the region of Aseer

Many of the modern houses remain brightly painted inside and outside. This art has become classified by UNESCO. Women were responsible for it.

The Sarat Habidah houses are made of adobe

To protect them from the rain, tile-shaped stones are placed all around them at regular intervals in order to ensure proper water drainage. The thick walls help keep temperatures cool in the scorching summer. At the top, there is a terrace to get fresh air.

Heritage conservation is a priority of the Saudi government. The forts were all renovated to perfection

The architecture of old Jeddah typically puts one in mind of the Tales of 1,001 Nights

Tall buildings covered with mashrabiya, wooden balconies that allowed women to see without being seen. Saudis have fled the old city, which has never been restored despite its classification by UNESCO. Only Somali, Pakistani and Yemeni refugees live there in precarious conditions.

Saudi Arabia also has mountains on its territory, like the one acting as a border with Yemen in the south

The Al Faifa mountain peaks at over 2,000 meters and is highly sought after by Saudis having to deal with the searing heat in the plains. Houses have proliferated on the slopes, each new one seeking to tower over the others.

No, this father is not in the desert

His house is at the top of Al Fifa mountain, with the best view in Saudi Arabia. But the real fun for him is to be in a room where he has set up… a Bedouin tent.

These traditional adobe and brick houses in Najran are called midmakh and are typical of the south

They reflect Yemen’s cultural influence in the area. They may have up to seven floors. The ground level is for the livestock. The next level is for human accommodation, complete with small windows to keep out the heat as well as intruders. As you climb up the building, the windows become larger to let in more light as well as cooler air.

Some of these residences were built centuries ago

Now, many Saudi families have kept their old houses for holidays or weekends. Fortunately, some Najran residents seem to be really keen to preserve their traditional homes, often modernizing them with metal roofs and air conditioning.

Madain Saleh is a sister city to Petra, Jordan

It is a UNESCO World Heritage site that is home to 111 perfectly preserved Nabatean tombs. The magic of the site also lies in the total absence of tourists, Coca-Cola sellers or souvenirs shops.

The Hijaz Railway was designed by the Ottoman empire to transport pilgrims to the holy cities of Medina and Mecca in the early 20th century

The railway was built in May 1900 and connected Damascus to Medina. The railway was sabotaged by Lawrence of Arabia during World War I. It stopped running in 1918. Some cars can still be spotted in the desert.

The Omar Ibn al-Khattab mosque

It was built with stones in 633 and is located in the town of Dawmat al-Jandal, an important crossroads of ancient trade routes connecting Mesopotamia with the Arabian Peninsula.

The Al Hamra Open Air Museum in Jeddah is the largest open air museum in the world

It was built during the oil boom in the late 1970s. As a result, Jeddah is home to works by Arp, Cesar, Calder, Henry Moore, Joan Miró and Victor Vasarely. They are placed along the cliff, with no protection. Subject matter is often elements of the traditional Saudi culture. Everything is abstract as Islamic tradition prohibits the depiction of living creatures, including humans.

The only way to reach the Farasan Islands in the Red Sea is to rent a boat for a two-hour ride

The islands are famous for their Ottoman architectural treasures and white sandy beaches where nobody swims. Locals just walk around. To be allowed to go to the islands, one has to go through a very strict security check – forms must be filled, passports shown, bags checked, body searched… both on the way to the islands and on the way back. One cannot help but wonder what secret is hidden in those nearly deserted coral islands.

The relics on the Farasan Islands date back to the first century BC at the earliest and the Ottoman invasion at the latest

Stucco work was very important and everyone adapted their decoration to their taste.

Extravagance is one of the characteristics of urban design in Saudi Arabia

Here, a train coming out of a store in Jeddah, in the main shopping street.

Roundabouts are each more extravagant than the next, like this one representing a coffee pot almost 20- meter high

The government is urging Saudi people to visit their own country instead of going abroad as soon as the heat becomes unbearable

Malaysia, Lebanon, Marbella are popular destinations for Saudi families, while single people prefer Thailand or Morocco. It’s the chance for all to escape the shackles of the strict domestic rules.

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2DCIzPF via Viral News HQ

[in-paradox-space]

very long rambly text post, you know the drill

you’ll get nothing out of reading it, you may as well scroll.

It’s fucking painful. 

I barely even know her

but I can’t stop thinking about her

I’ve met her once, I shouldn’t feel this way about her.

I can’t concentrate on anything.

I just really really want to be around her.

I miss her.

and its really fucking painful to think she probably just wanted to get away from me 

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

I need to work on improving my skills before college starts. I need to be able to pick myself up, eat the right foods, shower and sleep at the right times

I can’t. I can only think about her

and its weird. I have had crushes before, painful ones, for girls and guys.

and I’ve spent nights awake because of it

but this is making me really sad

to feel like I’ll never be with her and she’ll probably never approve of me

she probably thinks I’m really weird

and that I just want a hookup

because our mutual friends made it out like that before they invited her

and 

she’s a regular girl

I met her one night

and I don’t understand.

It would make sense for me to enjoy being around her and wanting to chill with her again

but it does not make sense that I feel like this

that she comes into my mind every single minute

and she makes it hard to focus on anything

I want to look at all the units on my course, and visualize how I can get the best grades in each one

I want to research some shit to buy 

I need to choose a good cheap bag to order from china or somewhere cheap

I can not concentrate on any of it. 

My mind is only interested in thinking of her

I’ve been waiting for a camera for weeks, it arrived today

I unboxed it. 

the tag and the plastic was still there

I need to format an SD Card and change the date/time settings

the box had the big bubble wrap 

why am I not excited? 

I don’t give a shit 

I don’t.

I only seem to care about her right now

and it feels like a drug craving

like im low

I need her to pick my serotonin up

and I think, relationships, crushes, love, affection, sex, all that shit

it kind of is like a drug 

not in a poetic way

but its basically the same release of chemicals in the brain

and you think about it every day

you look forward to it

and you feel highs and lows

pick me ups and comedowns

the rushes, the emotions

you change and shape your life to suit it, you make compromises

and its all for a release of the chemicals your brain creates

i know im not the first one to point this out

but im growing aware of it

and I’ve always been aware its just chemicals

an illusion, a distraction from what is important

and I know in reality it doesnt mean shit. I should move on and get on with whats important

but heres the thing

its making me low, because somewhere along the lines my serotonin or dopamine or one of those kind of things has been thrown off balance

and thats basically what happens when you want more cocaine, but it would be more extreme with cocaine of course

I want to see her again.

I dont want to ask my friends to invite her out again, its embarrassing that im interested

and i feel sort of uncomfortable knowing my friend fucked her that one time

i dont even care what we do

i just want to be around her

and i am well aware of how creepy this is 

considering i dont know her

and I spent one night with her

and if anyone spouted this shit to me, I’d think they were just being really dramatic

and they just wished they lived inside a movie

theres not really a pattern to when I think of her

and i find it so strange, because I really really dont know her

but I feel so strongly about her, like I would with a crush from high school

it just does not make sense, logically, to me.

but I will be thinking of anything and I’m suddenly overcome with this unique feeling

a reminder through my whole body

that I really really fucking like being around her

and I just want to be around her again

a feeling exactly like seriously craving a certain drug which you haven’t done for a day or so, but its less physical pain and more feeling emotion through a sense of weakness in your  body

 i wont tonight because i might not be thinking straight

but im considering just talking to my friend about it

and trying to see her again

and i want her to like me, but authenticity is important

but i wouldnt want them to set me up

and honestly i dont think she wants any of this

even if she did date me it’d probably be for 3 days and she’d move on

and she is the kind of girl I’d be friends with

but I really don’t consider people like her as anything more

she liked blink 182 and generic pop rock

i didnt even care about that

you can like whatever you like, but a part of my interest is usually dictated by that

i just liked her more

simply because I was learning more about her

and my god

I would fucking hate anybody who was talking like me right now

I will get over her. 

but for now I’m enjoying hearing her voice as I sleep

I think it happens to most people, it almost always happens to me after doing ecstasy 

the next few nights have mild hallucinations 

kind of abstract and psychedelic 

rarely scary but I have had very very fearful nights of paranoia a few days after in the past

they’re mainly voices

its like certain phrases keep being replayed in your ears over and over

not thought out but heard

like theyre really there

and you know theyre not there

but you feel as if these people are really around you

and youre in the same place

and you dont question it at all

you believe they are there

and its not imposing, it doesnt raise any questions. you’re physically in your bedroom but you look around, you hear them, youre really in the place you were the other night

and eventually when youre really drifting off

it becomes lucid visual

and you see them but you also dont

and its just certain things being replayed

and it has the potential to turn into a bad trip but its mostly pleasant and soothing

and I can still hear her voice

I still hear my friends and his girlfriends

but I hear hers too

I love it

I don’t want it to go away

I cant think of what she says

well theres one phrase

and again it makes absolutely no fucking sense

shes just a completely regular fucking girl, with her own interests and experiences

some we share. some we dont

and i met her fucking once, spent one night high with her. we didnt even kiss. hugged once

she didnt express any interest

didnt show any signs of it

and my heart feels fucking weak

and my body is released with, is it endorphins? 

it feels like when something release endorphins

an opiate effect.

im going to see her again

i wish my brain could take that in

so it will stop distracting me with thoughts of her at this crucial part of the year

the version of me from a year ago would feel disgusted by these posts

and I’m sorry, old me

I’ll always be me

probably

ill feel that same way about love again

i dont know what this is

i think im physically dependent on codeine again

and that might have influenced me being sick before

i took some when i got off the bus but it didnt change much

im going to go cold turkey anyway

i was planning on taking some at a gig but i begged kek, bargained to not be sick until im off the bus

and i made a sort of deal that i will sacrifice taking codeine at the gig

then bargained some more and said id stop

idk if it was them who helped me 

but a deal is a deal

and it will still be a fucking good show

would probably love it more if I was high though

im gonna have to forget that

and I feel sick again

im going to wash my hair and sleep

I started college today

I got up at 6am, and I would’ve made it on time but I was almost sick on the bus ride.

I didn’t want that to be my first impression so I went home.

I think it’s because of the weekend. I don’t take alcohol very well, even a little. Or cigarettes. I just get migraines from anything slightly unhealthy. 

I think its more of a delayed hangover/comedown though. 

If the pills are 200mg each, I did roughly 700-900mg of MDMA on over two different days.

I started one day, rested the next and continued the day after that.

to some thats a lot. 

To others it’s a milestone they’re way past. 

It’s the most I think I’ve done in that timeframe though though. 

I’m still very tired after sleeping through the afternoon and very weak. 

I want to make it tomorrow but I don’t think I will. 

It’s a shame. I want to ace the first project and make a good first impression. 

I told them I get ill a lot, they should understand but I think they’ll be suspicious that I just happen to be seriously ill on the first day

especially after talking about how much better I am compared to the start of the year in the interview

Now im going to think of a personal tag for her,

one memorable that isnt her name

[in-paradox-space]

I used codeine for the first time in uh, 11 days yesterday but I actually had a migraine. Still enjoyed the buzz though, my tolerance has gone down but not nearly how it was at first. Still a nice amount. I dont crave it as much now, I still crave it but I think thats just me wanting to get high and knowing theres a pretty easy way in my bedroom. Ive been working on self discipline and sacrificing short term happiness in order to achieve goals in the long term. Not being dependant on stuff was part of that. Now I dont drink caffeine, do any drugs pretty much, or eat junk food. My migraines have disappeared a lot! Also there's a thing called medication overuse headache, where I thiiink your pain pathways change in the brain. That'd mean I'd have to keep taking painkillers everyday eh google it if youre interested. I know what it is, and I stopped codeine partly because I didn't want that. Partly to build back my tolerance and partly because withdrawal was brutal. Anyway. I'm seeing my boyfriend this weekend and I like him but I prefer just long distance text stuff. Hes probably gonna kiss me and im gonna be awkward and honestly not into it. He is cute but idk ive never been the relationship type, it was pretty stupid and cruel of me to go out with him because I knew this would happen. I'll use this as a reminder in the future though. Well yeah,uh, I dont wanna be like all boyfriendy with him, I dont wanna make out with him. Not like seriously anyway. Maybe as a one time thing but were at the point where we say ily everyday and send sugar cub stickers to each other Which is really nice but I dont wanna make out So Im debating low key taking codeine on the weekend so I feel all lovey and shit and I dont mind I'm also debating using this as an exercise of self discipline and practice doing things I dont enjoy (without ruining my clean streak) ¯\_ (ツ) _/¯ the world still spins. I'll just play into it. I'll wait 2 months. He'll be finished with exams and stuff then. I'll find a nice way to make him move on himself. Unless by then I have a change of heart and wanna stay. 🤔🤔 I dont really wanna do any of it. Theres many many worse situations to be in though.