#also when I experienced a partial realization of this last night my mom said maybe my brother will stop at a target and buy it for me on his

[sluttyten]

I just realized I’m leaving for vacation the day 2 baddies releases 😭 so no Target stop for me on release day and if I order online I’m gonna have to probably have it delivered to my grandparents so it’s not just sitting outside my house for hours or days

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[vrednic]

COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

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Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero --  and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

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The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to  the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

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Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”  

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him.  Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.  

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.

TAGS

@broco8

[cintanna-stuff]

A-Z for ❄️🐉

HCs for our favorite icy dragon boy Lance. Here we go, this might get long 🤣 

For the sake of romanticism, let’s assume he’s with a girl he actually loves and not with a one night stand.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I think he wouldn’t ask many questions, he can easily figure out what his partner needs and take care of them. Are the windows open and she’s sweaty? cover her with the sheets and cuddle. Does she look thirsty? get up and serve her a cup of wine or water.

B = Body Part (His favourite body part of their partners)

He’d love all of her body, but I think his favorite part would be her face; her eyes, her lips and her expression. I think he already has a fixation with Erika’s face in the game, look at chapter 8 illustration, “you’re cute when you’re angry”, “shut your cute little mouth”. I think he looks at her face a lot.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Lance is easily overtaken by emotions, so when he’s making sweet love to his partner, he doesn’t even think about not finishing inside her, it’s kind of primal instinct, he just holds her tightly and cums deep inside. 

However when they’re having sex, I think he’d love to finish on her face or in her mouth. Seeing her “pure” and beautiful face all messed up and dirty after what he has just done to her makes him go insane.

D = Dirty Secret

mmm, he has had dirty thoughts about Erika even before he realized he had deep feelings for her, maybe while he was Ashkore.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Well if we look at his brother, I’d say he has lots of experience. We can’t know for sure if he has been with many girls but we know a ton of women went crazy for him. So my hc is that he’s had one night stands, nothing too serious but yes he’s had his fun before he became chief of Obsidian guard and started to discover the truth. He’s also intelligent and shows interest in what he does, so yeah I think he knows what he’s doing in bed, at least when he’s not overly emotional.

F = Favourite Position

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he just wants to look at her face while she orgasms and keep their bodies close the whole time and sometimes he wants to put her on her knees with her head buried in the mattress.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in bed? Or are the humorous?)

More than goofy he can say passional or dirty/teasing/mocking things. Let’s say he has his own kind of humor, that one we all his stans love.

H = Hair (Are they groomed down there? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

I wrote something about this a few days ago. Yes he’s very clean, he’s well trimmed down there and the carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, are they romantic?)

If he’s making love yes, he can get romantic. But he’s more passional than sweet, he goes slow and soft on few occasions. He’d get close to her, maybe grab her hands or her wrists while he goes deep into her. When he’s drowning in passion and love, he might start to bite and leave marks as well as ask her to look at him or say his name. His dragon side wants to eat her 😈

J = Jack Off

Not as often as you might think since he has a pretty high sex drive. He gets one off from time to time in the shower when he’s stressed and just can’t stand it anymore. It’s more out of necessity than pleasure. Too focused on his mission and too filled with hatred to feel any actual pleasure.

K = Kink

Is fighting a kink? When it comes to sex he likes when she’s feisty or angry. Loves to give her some control only too overpower her and make her submit while she’s enjoying every second of it. Might tie her or pull her hair.

Also, might play a little with her back door…

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere really, as long as he doesn’t feel threatened. Wouldn’t want to do it somewhere where they could get surprised by enemies or where she could get hurt. 

M = Motivation (What turns him on? What gets him going?)

Erika playing innocent (or not playing it) or being angry. Kissing, specially kissing his neck.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do.)

Dragon sandwich (srry girls). I don’t think he’d share with anyone, maybe he’d share a one night stand, but not a girl he’s actually in love with.

Right now Lance is going crazy and he’s pretty aggressive but in the scenario that he gets past this and he actually gets to love and be loved back, I think he’d never try anything that could seriously harm his lover.

O = Oral (Do they like to give or receive? Are they skilled?)

He loves making her scream with his mouth and he’s skilled at it, but he goes insane at the sight of her kneeling to worship him.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Depends on the mood, but like I said before he’s more of the passionate kind. He’s just not good at restraining himself.

Q = Quickie

Mostly when they’re on a mission and don’t have much time, specially if they’re with more people. He’d have quick sex as a stress reliever and due to the need of closeness and warmth after or while being in a dangerous situation, also to take care of his (and her) needs.

R = Risk (Do they take risks? Are the willing to experiment?)

He can take risks in the sense of being caught by someone they know, he wouldn’t do it if he thinks they could be in actual danger. 

Otherwise he’s pretty open and would be willing to try new things (mostly).

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Dragon stamina 😏 

T = Toy (Do they own toys?)

Are there any toys in Eldarya? I doubt it, but if he had to try he’d use them to torture Erika.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

Sometimes a lot, but he has to try very hard in order to not loose his cool and ravage her on the spot.

V = Volume

Doesn’t moan a lot during the act but he grunts loudly. He lets out a shaky moan/breath when he cums deep inside if her. 

Things he might say making love or having sex: “You’re mine” “I love you” “Look at me, say my name” “I’ll be yours forever” “Come for me sweetheart” “open that cute little mouth” 

W = Wild Card

Would you be willing to do it with him while he’s… partially transformed? some scales, his tail and claws,… He wouldn’t mind it but wouldn’t be particularly into it either. For him both his dragon and human form are equally natural, but ofc he cannot make love to you intro his full dragon form (I’m not THAT depraved, that wouldn’t even work if he’s too big xd, but hey I won’t judge), but partially transformed (like his mom) would be different.

X = X-ray (What’s going on down there?)

I don’t think he’s the biggest guy (that’s Valkyon) but he’s definitely not small. I’d say above average, since he’s still a big boy after all and a dragon 🤷‍♀️ 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

High. In my mind, I believe (eldarya)dragons are pretty sexual creatures. He can distract himself and ignore his itch for a time, specially when he’s very focused on something, but he needs to relieve himself at some point.

Z = Zzz (How quickly did they fall asleep?)

Actually not very quickly, even less during the night. He’s a night owl and would enjoy some small conversation after sex. Actually if you want to tell him something, this could be the right time to do it: he’s happy, relaxed, relieved and cuddling with you. However, he falls asleep quickly if caress, pet him or let him rest on your chest.

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

tw/venting

ayo the thought of having to go back to school in a little over a month is fucking wild. like.....i feel like i just got out of school and binge watched invincible for the first time. IT FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY. it’s extremely scary thinking about how fast time is passing by because i keep doing the same thing everyday. there’s barely any change in anything. not allowed outside. my IRL friends arent vaxxed yet, and even if they were, my mom’s suspicious of my intentions when going out. and lets not get into the fact that school doesnt stress me out as much, but i’ll be damned if i dont have awful test anxiety still. i feel like everything is fucking passing me by and that sucks ASS. my classmates are going out to beaches and shit, and posting on insta (good for them, i probably need to touch some grass) but like?? i feel like im just being robbed of my life. and teen years and all that. 

i know the pandemic has been hard for LITERALLY everyone. (if you said 2020 was a good year, hush, you’re alone in that regard bestie, dont wanna hear it) but i just......im finally recognizing feelings and all that (shit’s scary man) my thoughts dont match my body whatsoever (not dysphoria, its derealization, or something similar). thats so scary to me. sometimes i catch myself in the mirror and im talking and im like...”thats not me.....oh fuck, it is me.” so i dont look in the mirror and talk aloud, is what im saying. i’ll have a breakdown. but im extremely extroverted. i love people, and seeing people and hugging people. and not feeling like every day that i spend inside of my fucking house is a waste of time because time travel doesnt exist and i cant get any of these days back. at all. it is a never ending cycle. i just want a hug, dude. i’ve never experienced cuddling before either. i would love to platonically cuddle someone. but i got rid of toxic friends (still not over it) and got very radicalized...but for what. my own knowledge and betterment.....but eh. plus i traumadump, nobody wants to hear my sob story, i need to hush. and get in contact with my therapist. and discuss my anxiety issues. and possible depression. and PTSD and so many other things because it’s really not cute. anyways.

also heyy, my body issues are back. like?? hello. not that they ever went away, they just steep for a bit, then start boiling back. and that’s torture for me. having a generally okay body is fine, but then i realize that when i do wear pants, they’re either my overalls (comfort and queerness) or jeans. and yay those are tighter than they were last time. and i know weight fluctuation is a thing that happens, but i really feel like i could do more to not feel as bad. (i mean, sure, i could, but exercising makes me feel horrible mentally so). i see classmates thin and everything (i know thin isnt always healthy, but a part of me wishes that i was bone thin, we wont talk about it) and i know “every body is a bikini body” and i support that initiative 1,000 percent, but A. i have no idea if my parents would even let me get one if i wanted one (i dont) and B. i dont have the confidence to wear something like that. i even hate the fucking swimsuit that i have. i want the fucking full length victorian swimsuits with a shirt and fucking shorts because i cant stand being exposed. my stomach pokes out too much. my arms arent muscly like they were some years back. i just feel....so weird. and the “oh she’s smart, she cant be hot.” one or the other type shit that my brain keeps trying to tell me is real ia NASTY. like heyyy i have a brain, and i use it most days, but my body also shouldnt be fuckshitted like this. this collection of skin and bones keeps me safe (but not from my brain, its on some different shit)

another thing is that i can not wear exposing things. ugh, i would feel so just....out in the open. im literally scared of someone coming behind me and fucking groping me, or slapping my ass. (valid fear) but i literally fucking HATE feeling like that. one, I AM UNDERAGED, and two, ITS NASTY EITHER WAY. and if i went to school, and wore something mildly form fitting, i’d be pushing my body forward to look less noticeable (i dont trust seniors), or pulling my jacket down (i always wear jackets in school) so people arent looking at me. that sucks. and i wish i didnt make my anxiety that bad as to where it just sucks to exist. with a human flesh prison that looks a certain way. i kinda just want to hide my body. permanently. (not dysphoria related, my tits are fine, if they stay, cool, if they don’t, cool) but like...ugh.

and this is where it gets EXTREMELY dark, trigger warning for suicide mention.

yeah last year on the first week of school (virtual) i really wanted to kill myself. which like..isnt okay. i havent really told anyone about that either. because it was an extremely low point for me. i just didn’t think that i could fucking make it through the entire year. all those assignments, and all those days, wasted. im not learning anything valuable (besides maybe science and finance)...i dont know what the fuck i want to do with my life. there’s no such thing as ethical consumption so i’m gonna be contributing to something fucked up, no matter what i do. im weird. and political. and opinionated. and into so many different things. which, y’know, should be cool and fun and fresh. but it terrifies me to know that other people arent like me. that they many never understand my interests. and i feel like this with EVERYONE in EVERY class. unless i see a similar interest. or a tiny flag. but the thought of introducing myself again and again. to more people. who i may never fucking see again. who probably dont care about me. kinda discourages you a bit. so yeah, i really wanted to off myself. it seemed so impossible to get through everything. and then heyyy, near the end of the year, something really shitty happened. was depressed. told my mom i may be autistic... “okay...well....getting diagnoses takes a lot of money. so unless you have 700 bucks laying around....then no.” (who says the person who may ALSO be autistic along with me) few weeks back, talking about my therapist who wanted to talk through the DSM-4 with me “you really think you’re autistic huh.” of course mom. why else would i have written a paper about it, followed actually autistic accounts, and done research on it.

then near the next year, i sucked even more ass. friend shit broke me down and i felt....like i fucked up. which i did. and like i cant keep people in my life. (which is partially true) and i felt more physically exhausted than i had in literal years. i feel very deeply, and especially with negative emotions. so that really fucked me up. (may be something more serious, i have no idea) so there’s that. i just....i’ve never felt like i had been so awful in some time. like i let everyone around me down. so no more of /those/ situations. i dont sleep correctly when my hair is wet, so you can imagine how my dreams were THAT night.

but yeah, i dont feel like wanting to kill myself again. because i know it’s not worth it. but something just keeps pulling me deeper into these disgusting pits of awfulness. like there’s no other way out. (wrong) and gritting my teeth and willing myself to do things is going to hurt, but it’s quite literally the only choice i have. i cant give up. so there’s that. my thoughts and everything. yeah.....it’s 5:10 in the morning, im going the fuck to sleep.

[wordsandshawn]

Before Now - chapter 11

previous chapters

11.

A couple of days later, Shawn’s gone for work again, so I don’t have to worry about running into him. I don’t bother texting or calling him to ask about what my mom mentioned. I don’t know how to bring it up. Despite how much I want to yell him for talking to his mom about me like I’m a charity case or a lost puppy that needs a home, my ego won’t let me reach out to him.

After a week, I’m convinced that Karen was just being nice by trying to push Shawn into taking me on tour, the poor girl whose life is falling apart and who dropped out of college. Shawn probably agreed enough to placate both of our parents, but he had no intention of actually following through with it.

I had almost forgotten about all of that a week later when I receive an email from Andrew, Shawn’s manager. The email details an offer for a three-month-long position on Shawn’s tour. I’d work as his photographer with more of an emphasis on videography. An entire contract is written up, but he says that it can all be discussed in a meeting if I choose to attend. I’d be traveling with Shawn pretty much nonstop throughout the contract, so all travel expenses are paid for, and I’ll get a paycheck on top of that. In my opinion, a very generous one especially considering I have so little experience doing concert photography. Any reservations I may have had about spending three months following Shawn around are overshadowed completely by the opportunity to get paid to travel the world and take pictures, which is honestly all I’ve ever wanted in life. I just never thought I’d actually get a chance to do it. And I didn’t want it to be because Shawn felt bad for me or because his mom made him do it.

Despite this, I agree to talk to Andrew about it and we schedule a meeting. I was not expecting to see Shawn in this meeting, but he’s the first person I see when I walk in the room that morning. He’s sitting at the head of the big conference table staring down at his phone. There are a few other people in the room besides Shawn and Andrew, and they’re all dressed professionally. I introduce myself to them and they share that this meeting is mostly to discuss my contract and the outlines of the contract since they’ve already seen my work and are interested in hiring me.

I didn’t expect Shawn to be here, seeing as it didn’t seem to have much to do with him at all. What came as even more of a surprise was how involved he was once the meeting began. I was unprepared and unsure of how to even negotiate. Shawn, on the other hand, clearly had some experience with meetings like this one. He was undoubtedly paying attention, and it soon became clear he was looking out for me in terms of the contract. I, obviously, don’t know much about anything to do with working as a photographer for concerts.

If left on my own in the meeting, I probably would have done all of it for free, and I would have slept in the back of a van if I had to, scraping together enough money one way or another to pay for my food. I was not going to be picky or difficult about this. I would take what I could get because in all honesty, I had nothing to offer and experience to gain. Even just being able to write on a future resume that I had photographed Shawn for the duration of an entire tour would give me more credibility than I could get working my ass off on my own. The experience alone provided more than enough incentive to say yes to whatever they asked of me and not ask for more than the absolute bare necessities.

If I didn’t know any better, I could have easily assumed that Shawn was there for me, to get me the best deal. Almost like everything more that I asked for was not coming out of his own income. He sat in the meeting, going over the contract more carefully than even I did, asking questions that I wouldn’t have thought to ask. All I knew about this job was that I was taking photographs, putting together short movies for him to post on Instagram and for them to sell to various sources. That’s all that really mattered to me, but Shawn asked about sleeping arrangements, about hotel rooms for whenever he stayed in hotels. That wasn’t something that was in the contract until Shawn brought it up, and they agreed to write it in. Another thing he inquired about that I hadn’t thought of and wouldn’t have brought up myself was flights. He let them know that if he was flying somewhere, I should too. At first, it didn’t make sense until I realized that some of his shows were on the same landmasses but very far, so Shawn flew, but most of the crew would just travel by road, and if he hadn’t put that stipulation in, I would have been with them, which I wouldn’t have argued about.

I still don’t fully understand how all of this stuff works, but Shawn has to be behind all of this. They sell him, his music, his face, his fame, and the money he makes gets distributed in whatever way to the people who put him out there or back him, or somehow contribute to making this all work. He has to know that everything more he asks for me to be written into the contract is less that he gets at the end of it all. I don’t understand why he’s even taking a chance on me, bothering to bring me onto the tour when I’m really just another expense. But I’m too afraid to ask. My mom always said don’t ever look a gift horse in the mouth. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I know not to ask questions when something comes along just when I need it most.

Other than sitting in the same room and Shawn talking about me and the contract, we don’t talk directly to each other much at all throughout the meeting. I don’t know how to talk to him anymore anyway, and I know it’s better this way. I’ll go on tour with him, but only as his photographer and nothing more. It’s a silent agreement between the two of us, at least I think so. He’s doing it as a favor to our moms, and maybe deep inside he’s doing it as a favor to me, not that I really deserve a favor from him. I don’t want to feel like I owe him anything, but I already feel like I owe him everything. I have to earn my place on this tour, and if I don’t then I can’t stay. I’ve already decided.

Any contact I have with Shawn in the next week before leaving for tour is strictly business. I get the sense that he’s not entirely interested in being friends, and it gives me at least some peace of mind about this all. I’m not the same person I was when we dated, and I’m not the same person I was over a year ago the last time we talked. He doesn’t need to know that or the me I am now. I work for him, so as long as I do my job and take good pictures, my personal life shouldn’t matter.  

I leave a week after the contract is signed. I don’t have much to say goodbye to that I haven’t already said goodbye to. The twins are already moved into their college dorm, and Noah is excited to finally have his shot at being an only child. My mom’s just glad I won’t be sitting on the couch all semester, and my dad, well, he doesn’t really say much.

-

From the very first day of tour, I’m immediately overwhelmed. I have so much to learn. Tour life is so different than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m not sure how to approach it at first, but then I get caught up in the excitement of getting to shoot and practice photography, and suddenly it becomes all about that. I’ve always had a passion for photography but getting to photograph someone with so much passion for what he’s doing has opened up a whole new world for me. When I’m hidden behind my camera, looking through the lens and waiting to get the perfect shot, I forget anything and everything else.

The traveling is exhausting, but being on the road all the time, and being constantly busy, either traveling or filming or editing leaves little time for me to think or really do anything but work. Healthy or not, it is honestly the only way I’ve learned to cope. Keeping busy like this is the only way I know how to be okay right now.

The first few shows honestly pass in a blur. I’m learning faster than I’ve ever learned anything before, and yet it still seems like I’m not keeping up, not learning fast enough. It’s like being thrown into the deep end of a pool and having to learn to swim. 

None of my photography classes could have even come close to preparing me for this experience. I’m quickly discovering that it really is a full-time job, and I’m exhausted after just the first week. I spend all my time shooting or editing or sleeping. Between the constant traveling, filming, and editing, I really don’t have much left in me by the end of the day. I honestly don’t know how Shawn does what he does, actually getting on stage and performing every night has to be exhausting in itself, not to mention the meet and greets, soundchecks, and press.

The crew has been very welcoming, but it’s hard for me to force myself to open up to them or let myself be included, partially because I’m so busy and exhausted with all the work I’m doing, and also because I’m just not exactly comfortable with them. I’m sure they’re all great people, and it really is just a personal issue, but it’s been hard lately for me to get out of my comfort zone any more than I’ve already been pushed by coming on this tour. 

It feels safer to just keep to myself. I hate to admit it, but it also probably has to do with the fact that Shawn’s team is predominantly male, at least the people who I come into contact with most. Even though they invite me to hang out with them, I’m not exactly in a place where I want to be surrounded by alcohol and dudes. And hanging out with Shawn is practically out of the picture. Not that he’s going out of his way to invite me to hang out with him, but the mobs of people he tends to attract genuinely freak me out even though I’d never want to admit it out loud.

I find that most of the time I spend with Shawn, I’m hiding behind my camera. It’s my way of protecting myself from getting close to anyone here. I’ve never been the type of person to document everything, but all of a sudden, it’s my job and I’m clinging to the security of the camera more than ever I thought I would.

It’s our first night in a hotel since the start of tour a week ago. When we finally get there, I go straight to my room, excited to have my own space for the first time in a week. Its already nearly midnight. I thought I was exhausted, but once I get to my hotel room. The reality hits me that I’m all alone, and I can’t fall asleep. I guess there’s something comforting about the feeling of the bus bumping along through the dark on a freeway headed somewhere. I’ve grown used to the rocking of the bus and the tiny space in my bunk where I sleep pressed up against the wall. Now, the large hotel bed in the middle of the room that appears way too big for just one person isn’t as welcoming as I expected it to be. I thought I’d sleep like a baby, it being my first night in a real bed in over a week, but much to my disappointment, I tossed and turned for over an hour before finally deciding to give up on sleeping at all.

If I can’t fall right to sleep, I don’t really want to just lay in the dark. Lately, I’ve found it hard to sleep, especially because I find myself waking up in the middle of the night because of nightmares. At least in the bus, I can hear all the normal sounds, and I can quickly remind myself of where I am, of how far I am from where I used to be. I have never felt alone on the bus because I’m never really alone. Even though I don’t talk to the band a whole lot or see Shawn much, it is comforting knowing that I am surrounded by so many people who are all sleeping peacefully. I can tell because someone is always snoring. When I wake up from nightmares on the bus, I press myself up against the wall, trying to force my pounding heart to slow. As I lay there in the dark, the moving bus brings me comfort and eventually, my breathing evens out enough for me to fall back asleep.

Tonight, there are no sounds except the occasional sound of footsteps walking down the hallway and the muffled sounds of talking or doors closing. I turn the light on and decide to do some editing, since sleep seems to be off the table. Its nearly three am and sleep still hasn’t come. I’m feeling lonelier than ever. I know that most of the crew went out tonight, since we have an off day tomorrow. I opted to stay in, thinking I might be able to catch up on sleep since I haven’t slept well in so long. Now that I realize I can’t even sleep, I’m starting to regret not going out. At the very least, I could be drunk right now. And if I’m forced to be awake, I’d rather be intoxicated.

When I finally can’t take the being alone anymore, I grab my laptop, pull a sweatshirt on over my tank top, and head down to the lobby. Even if I’m still going to be alone, at least there are other people there. I settle into a sofa and watch tired-looking people come and go while I try to get some work done.

I’ve been engrossed in my editing for a while when I finally look up because I see movement. The lobby has been pretty empty for a while considering it’s the middle of the night, but I notice a couple. I’m about to go back to my work, not thinking much of them at first when the guy makes me take a closer look. When I do, I realize it’s Shawn and a girl I’ve never seen before. I know I shouldn’t be surprised. I assumed that he hooked up before, and even often, but I never really thought about having to see him and his girl for the night. I quickly look back down, hoping that he won’t notice me. Luckily, the elevator opens and the two of them disappear inside without a glance in my direction.

After they’re gone, I turn back to edit, but my mind is everywhere else. Of course, Shawn goes out and brings girls back to his hotel room. He’s a twenty-one-year-old musician who also happens to look like a model. I try not to think about it, but there’s a feeling that’s made it's home in the pit of my stomach since seeing Shawn and whoever it was he took upstairs. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I feel it, but I close my laptop and return to my room, hoping morning will come quickly.

.

Chapter 12

[golbrocklovely]

so i kinda want to vent rn and also sorta explain why i haven't posted anything in a while.

TLDR at the end. seriously, this is long lol 

also trigger warning: mention of depression and being suicidal

recently, i've been feeling really unloved and unwanted, and it's just taking a lot out of me. first, there is this guy at work (which i vaguely talked about on here). he's one of my managers and he's a year older than me. i've known him for about a year and when i first met him, i was instantly into him. i even planned to ask him out, but then found out that he had a girlfriend that he's had for like almost 10 years or something. so my feelings for him have been there for a while, but they come in ebbs and flows.

this past week he has been really nice to me (i mean he always is), and it hasn't helped my feelings for him. so at one point this week, i walked by him and he gave me this look, which i know... really angelica? a look?, but YES a look. i asked him "what's the look for?" and he just replied "nothing" and for some reason it gave me major butterflies. then like two days later i was staring at something and getting frustrated, and he came over and said "what's up, beautiful?" and omg it killed me. he usually only calls me shorty bc i'm shorter than him, and he usually calls every girl that in the store bc he's a fucking giant lol but yeah.... i think i just feel bad about all of this bc i know that what he's doing is just being friendly and i'm reading it as more bc i like him and i hate it bc every time i see him... i really want to kiss him. and i know i'm just breaking my own heart bc i know he will never see me as that. and i've done this before with other guys, and i'm just really sick of feeling lonely. i'm so inexperienced in relationships and i feel kinda embarrassed about it bc i'm 25 and i should have experienced all of it when i was younger but i didn't.

and then to top all of this off, my best friend has been ignoring me for over a month. and to give you some backstory, we've been friends since we were like freshman-sophomores in hs. we've always been close. we've obviously had our problems, but we've worked thru them... or at least, i thought we did.

so finally, i just decided to text her and ask if i did something wrong and if that's why she's ignoring me. before that, the reason she wasn't talking to me was bc she was sick, so i get not responding to me. also, i know we are both adults with jobs, so talking to each other everyday is just not possible. she's stuck at home working (which i know she hates bc her family is a lot to deal with, especially her dad) and i have to go out into public on an almost daily basis for my retail job. we've never been the type of friends to call or text each other everyday. and as much as i love her, i can't talk to her everyday. i like having my alone time, and she does too.

she finally responded to me and said that 'you text me at my most stressful times' and i basically replied with 'sorry to hear that. i just want to make sure that you're okay, that our friendship is okay'. then she texted me saying 'idk !!! i'm stressed with work and idk where we stand anymore'.

this was extremely confusing to me, bc i didn't think there was any problems with us. sure, we haven't talked as much as before. but firstly, we've never been constant texters and whatnot. also bc of corona, i think we just drifted apart bc it's hard to communicate or even want to communicate. this year is so fucking stressful, i just took the lack of us talking with a grain of salt. also, when quarantine started, me and her talked a bunch. she even asked to call me (which we never really do unless we have a lot that we need to say) and we talked for like 3 hours and it was great. so for her to say this was weird.

i'll sum up the rest of the conversation bc otherwise this post will be 20 pages long. she ended up saying that we've haven't acted like best friends since hs and that we've grown apart and are on different paths in life. i said i don't agree with that and that the distance only started with the pandemic, and that i was hurt by her words bc all of this felt out of place. i then said i still wanted to be her friend bc her friendship means so much to me.

she then replied that she didn't agree bc when were in college i stopped talking to her for a while and then randomly wanted to be her best friend again. she feels as if our friendship has always been about me and one-sided and that she doesn't want that anymore.

this was a problem that i thought we resolved. back when we were juniors in college, i stopped talking to her for a couple months. the reason for that was bc my dad had just gotten over being sick the previous year with cancer, and then my mom had almost died from a heart attack. all of that, combined with my lack of self-esteem and my depression that i had been ignoring for years, i was on the brink of killing myself. i didn't tell her any of this at the time bc i didn't want to tell anyone. i spoke very little of this to anyone, even partially to this day. i kept a lot of it in bc i didn't want her to worry about me, bc she seemed to be having such a good time at college and i didn't want to be the rain on a sunny day.

back then, when we discussed all of this, she told me that it felt like our friendship had become a convenience for me. while i disagreed, i understood that that was how i made her feel and i apologized for it back then.

the thing about my best friend that i've always hated was she takes things i said from years ago that upset her, and waits to say that they did. she has taken things from three years prior and brought them up bc now she feels like it's an okay time to say it. since we've had this conversation about the convenience, i've walked on eggshells around her bc i know certain things would upset her and i don't want to do that, plus i don't want to upset her and be told about it years later and have to apologize for my previous self.

also, as someone who has gone thru a fuckton of shit in life, i realize a lot of things that have pissed me off about her are stupid and not worth it to really hold in and argue over. i let things go as best as i can, but she doesn't. there are many things that have upset me that she has said or done, but i never told her bc i was scared to lose  her friendship and on top of it, they weren’t majorly important

the last two messages i sent to her were this: i stopped talking to you at the time bc my parents were sick and i was suicidal. i didn't talk to you bc i didn't want you to worry about me. i know way before that i wasn't a good communicator in our friendship and i'm sorry about that. but if you have been feeling this way, why didn't you say something about it before? // i'm sorry that i've made you feel like this wasn't/hasn't been a mutual friendship. i've never wanted it all to be about me.

that was last night i sent those. she hasn't responded. i'm gonna give her some time, maybe a couple of days or a week. i want to meet face-to-face and talk this out. i've always felt like we haven't been 100% honest with each other, and i always knew we would have to talk about it at some point, but for her to just so easily trash a 10 year friendship after all of the shit we have gone thru... i'm gutted. i'm extremely heartbroken. i never thought in a million years this would happen. i thought she was gonna be my best friend for life...

so that's why i haven't updated any stories or requests. i've just been in a terrible headspace and kinda at my wits end. yall are really sweet tho, so thank you for not asking why i'm taking forever. i just figured i'd give you an explanation and vent at the same time.

TLDR: i haven't updated any stories bc i have a crush on a guy i shouldn't and my best friend of 10 years has decided to not be my friend anymore instead of working things out. i feel very unloved and unwanted.

[kihcn-blog]

[ jung hoseok, agender, he/they, twenty-five ] COLOR GREEN by NEW POLITICS? whenever i hear that song, it reminds me of KIHUN YEONG. maybe because they’re AFFECTIONATE but also UNREALISTIC. they’ve been living at mulberry apartments since JUNE of 2016 in APARTMENT 700 and have 1 ROOMMATE.

hewwo its me hazel. this is a disorganized mess and like trash but! my thoughts aren’t working right today (or any day lsdovgodfglvdf) so live with it.

ABOUT THE MUSE.

meet hunny. he’s a gymnast. he works as a personal trainer for anyone who needs it? mostly athletes & other such people with the money to afford him. he’s very chill and out doorsy. a tall person who snuggles into all of his friends despite being over 6 feet. kisses his pals platonically and believes in karma and balance and everything in nature being connected. super into fitness (obviously) and spends a lot of time at the gym for his own pleasure (though he’s there a lot for work too), particularly in the early mornings when he first wakes up. free spirited and a little bit absent-minded; he often drifts off in thought and doesn’t hear what’s being said to him, even if someone is speaking to him directly.

that being said, he’s really stubborn and fixates on people in a way, mostly people who seem like they “need” him, and even if they don’t treat him very well, he still puts his all into them. kihun kind of unhealthily wants to take care of everyone despite them not even wanting that from him? like he just… feels like it’s his job to give all of himself over to his friends & family & good luck telling him otherwise! he’s easy to guilt & to manipulate in that manner, & he’s gotten caught up in a lot of bad people as a result of that who did nothing but bleed him dry.

was raised by a single mother in busan, south korea after his father passed away when he was very young. he grew up in a multi-generational home with one sister, his grandparents (mom’s parents) and his mother. he was raised gently and to always be kind, but to strive for goals and be ambitious. when he took an interest in gymnastics he was encouraged and supported, which is a lot of the reason he ended up thriving so much. his mother is a personal chef for some very wealthy people, and they grew up pretty comfortably because of her long hours working, as well as the surplus she was compensated for her work. kihun was very close with his sister growing up, and he remains very close with her now. she still lives at home, though he’s moved out now, and she’s engaged to be married very soon.

ADDICTION/ALCOHOLISM TW

he moved to baltimore when he was only eighteen, initially just for school, but once he’d lived there for a while, he realized how much he loved it & pushed to become a permanent resident. unfortunately, what he didn’t expect was the toll that being away from his immediate family would take on him. he was often very lonely, and in the university scene, it’s easy to fall into crowds that aren’t exactly good for you. hunny is the type of person who is susceptible to going out a lot, and is prone to overdoing it when he does --- which quickly became an issue. he started drinking. a lot. at first it was just when he would go to a party or to a club, or fall into somebody’s arms that he knew wouldn’t be there tomorrow. after a while, it became a habit. he would drink until he passed out, and then start again when he woke up. his studies slipped, barely allowing him to get by (particularly so when he was more than partially on scholarship), and this lasted close to half a year before he even began trying to get it under some semblance of control.

hunny has been battling addiction ever since then, only recently having earned his 1 year sober chip from the AA meetings he attends weekly. unfortunately, his addiction did damage to him and his relationships that seems damn near irreparable even still.

he currently works as a rather successful and somewhat prominent personal trainer, typically hired by the more wealthy demographic of baltimore for his serene but determined attitude and people skills as well as skills in the work that he does. he focuses on his physical and mental health in equal measure, and he hopes to be able to rebuild himself more and more as time goes by.

RANDOM FACTS.

only drinks cold/iced drinks

really into sweatpants/leggings/yoga pants as every day wear

big sweaters/hoodies/jackets

JEAN JACKETS WHEN DRESSING IN ACTUAL CLOTHES —> wardrobe consists of mostly denim & fuzzy sweaters when not in fcking yoga pants

cooks super well actually who woulda guessed it

has 2 hamsters

hates wearing shoes, always barefoot

started experiencing gender dysphoria at a young age, and only learned abt different identities and what he might fall under when he got a bit older thanks to the internet. he’s very passionate about the way that he feels and about the respect he’s shown in regards to this, so expect correction if you misstep. 

loves swings, especially tire swings

can throw a punch, but prefers NOT to!

would let you step on him & then ask if you needed anything after rip lol

openly polyamorous and doesn’t do monogamous relationships for any reason tbh !!! if he starts getting feelings for some1 who doesn’t vibe w that he’ll let them know & break it off if necessary !

sleeps arnd a lot but is very very sweet n considerate like? he genuinely cares abt the ppl he hooks up with, even if it’s only a 1 night thing. super duper affectionate, WILL cook breakfast the next morning.

highlight. shimmer. sparkle. god, he loves to GLOW.

very interested in dance n actually taking lessons not just bc of that, but as another way to pass the time.

[davidfostercomedyblog]

Dude in Headlights: Story of when I ran from a deer!

It was a beautiful summer night. I’d just gotten home from completing an unsuccessful 15-year pursuit of stand-up comedy, and for the first time in 20 years was living with my parents.

Believe it or not I wasn’t terribly depressed. The joy of being no longer in Los Angeles and back home in the greatest city in the world actually outweighed the heartbreak of my dreams’ flushing down the shitter, and the humility of that shitter being the same one I sat on as a 4-year old.

I’d spent the evening with one of my oldest, closest friends, “Biz,” aka. “Riz,” aka. “Do-Riz,” aka. “Adam Rochman” – what a treat. One of the sweetest, funniest human beings you could ever meet, as a kid he was known for smelling all present parties’ butts in immediate investigation of any fart odor. As an adult he’d grown to be one of my idols: a happily married, financially successful man who didn’t live with his parents. Suddenly, I had many idols.  

Riz treated me to the Mets game (his team), whom I felt I could appreciate that much more, having now personally experienced adult failure and disappointment on a such a grand scale. We had a blast.

I don’t recall whether the Mets won or lost, partially because I didn’t care, but also the only person I know who talks more than me is Riz. In fairness we had infinity to catch up on, not the least of which being he was newly pregnant, and supposedly I got the very first reveal. After the game we’d part ways on the 7-train, Riz to his beautiful midtown apartment, I to Mom’s house, via a transfer to the A-train, and another to a brief bus ride on good ol’ Rockland Coaches, the criminally unreliable, dog shit of an undoubtedly going-to-hell bus company that ironically holds a special place in my heart as my medium between home and the city through my juvenile delinquency.

My hometown is just 14 miles from the Bronx, but its suburban landscape makes the Bronx look like Manhattan. From the bus stop were two options… really three:

1.     A two mile walk through the pitch black, deadly silent beyond chirping crickets, a half mile of which is up a huge hill fit only for those just embarking on their first career in life.

2.     A half-mile walk along part of the same route culminating with a 20-yard trek through the miniature forest that set the backdrop for my backyard for all of childhood (MOST POPULAR OPTION).

3.     Get Mom or Dad to pick me up from the bus stop. On the ride home I spoke to my (Jewish) mother who insisted on coming to get me from the bus.

“No, no, are you crazy?” I responded, in an obvious adoption of the martyr role, desperately grasping at any opportunity to feel like a man with some semblance of integrity. I may live with Mom and Dad and have to use their car daily to seek employment, but I’ll be damned if I need a ride home from the bus stop.

We argued for a few minutes like George Costanza and his mother, until finally she gave in. Mom had to wake up early the next morning to go to work for her customary 12-hour day, which helped yield resistance. I would walk home.

It was a beautiful late, summer walk. New York’s weather compares to Los Angeles’ about as closely as Los Angeles’ personality does to New York’s, but the humidity doesn’t much bother me. I looked forward to a before bed shower to wash off the Mets; otherwise I felt great. I listened to Eric B. and Rakim in my headphones, feeling like I could be Rakim, “the Rakim of acupuncture:” my second lifes’ passion (actually third if you include professional skateboarder, which never could have happened).

The final road before the aforementioned forest was always dark, even relative to the suburbs: One of those barely lit suburban back roads where you could streak naked in the middle of the night and it wouldn’t even really count. No one would see you. How do I know? I’ve done it.

As I approached the final bend I came suddenly face to face with her. She was beautiful. My three years in L.A. had been the least successful romantically (and “romantically”) of my life, and I’d so looked forward to dating human beings again on planet Earth once I returned. Of course that was completely irrelevant in the moment, as “she” was a deer. Not even in my weakest California moments would I have done a deer.

While growing up in Rockland County seeing deer was a rare and special treat, not terribly unusual, nor terribly common, as they had plenty of wood area separate from society to have their own society. Magically, we co-existed. Sadly, in the past ten years I’ve noticed deer sightings to be much more common. I see them every day that I visit my folks, and usually not one at a time, not even always on the periphery of the woods. I see them on the block, often standing in groups on the street corner, as if they’re the ones gentrifying our hood, not vice versa, and instead of trendy restaurants they’re selling drugs. “Anti-gentrification?”

I don’t dislike white people. As a matter of fact I consider the expression, “white privilege” to be a form of prejudice, and neo-Liberals as racist as Republicans, just via a different mechanism. My belief is that all cultures are prone to their own unique flaws, and one of white peoples’, in general, is a short sighted tunnel vision of devaluing culture, nature and community in exchange for commerce and material gain. “We” are doing to the deer exactly what we’ve done to Brooklyn in recent years and the Native Americans 500 years ago. 

I digress.

As I looked into the eyes of the lovely beast we both froze, and I realized we both were afraid. The deer wasn’t moving and if I wanted to complete the short cut home I had no choice but to walk in her direction.

“Afraid of a deer?!” said every single fucking person I’ve told this story to.

Yes, afraid of the deer. Why?

Well, for one, I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT DEER. THAT GOOD ENOUGH?! I’m not a fuckin’ veterinarian, nor a zoologist. Sure, I grew up in the suburbs, but now I’ve spent the greater (and latter) half of my life in the city and genuinely feel more nervous walking past a deer on a pitch black street than I do through a housing project in the Bronx. Why? Because I’ve seen people successfully do the latter. Conversely, I’ve never observed another human being walk past a deer, or a monkey or ostrich, or any other wild, Goddamn animal that isn’t sold at pet stores as further accessories of gentrification. I’m aware of reputations, and obviously I was 90% sure I’d be fine if I strolled towards the deer. But is 90% good enough when it comes to being attacked by a beast?! I couldn’t rationalize making such a decision based on hearsay alone.

As we stood there on the dark road, I fully clothed with a miniature suitcase in tow, she vulnerably “buck naked” in my direct path I decided to consult the omniscient web. I took out my phone and googled: “Do deer attack people?”

I expected what George Costanza did when he asked the doctor if his skin discoloration could be Cancerous: “What are you crazy? Deer attack people?! You’re nuts! Get outta here! You’ve got a better chance of her walking up to you and whispering ‘I love you’ in you ear and giving you a $100 bill!”

That wasn’t what it said at all. Instead the top links were much more to the tune of: “Although it is rare…” which was more than enough for me. The last thing I wanted to do was turn and walk back the long way home; then again apparently not. The last thing I wanted to do was get mauled to death by some deer bitch in the suburbs. The second to last thing I wanted was compromise my manly martyrdom and call Mom to come get me, and the third to last thing was retrace my steps and take the long way home. I checked out a few more links, desperately seeking comfort that no deer ever attack anyone. When I didn’t find it, without a moment’s hesitation I turned an about face.

It was a long walk, even longer than the original one from the bus stop to home would have been, including up and down two small hills with my fake-ass/big-ass carry-on bag rolling behind me. Still I chose to not get angry. My temperament and frustration comes up when I’m convinced there’s something better either I or someone else could have done to avoid a crisis. Instead there was no one to blame for this inconvenience. I couldn’t blame the dumb, poor beast for standing in the middle of the street, and the consequential bottom line was just an hour later to bed on this non-school night, because there were no “school nights,” because I was unemployed. Besides, it was hard not to find the humor in the situation.

40 minutes later I’d arrived at my block, this time via the Google Maps car path, and I was relieved. By this time the humidity had begun to get to me, not to the same degree as California’s culture and psychology, but still… I was hot.

I walked down the road that I had literally tens of thousands of times and my childhood home was finally in sight. I was just three houses away when suddenly I noticed directly in my path another Goddamn, FUCKING DEER!

Was it the same one?! I had no idea. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. If it wasn’t then what the hell are all these deer doing all over the streets? If it was then what kind of sick, strategic genius of a deer was I dealing with, and also what the hell are these deer doing all over the streets in the middle of the night? Was I being directly targeted? FUCK!

This time was a greater distance between us, maybe 40 yards. I had more space to run if need be, nevertheless the deer was as frozen in the headlights of my crystal blue eyes as the last one, staring me down from afar, immobile and directly planted in my path home. The situation had become that much more humorous, also that much less so in the experience of the moment.

I side-stepped the road onto my neighbor’s front lawn. I figured in case the deer decided to charge me they had a fence I could hop into their backyard that would offer a tangible barrier between the murderous animal and myself.

I had to make a choice: Swallow any ounce of pride left from my time in L.A. and wake Mom up by calling her to come pick me up two houses from our home in a comical exhibition of cowardice, or risk my life. I took out my phone again, this time not for more Google research but for option A.

“What?!” my poor, exhausted mother exclaimed into the phone. “Where did you say you are?”

Long beat before: “I’m two houses down.”

“A deer?!”

“Yes, a deer, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Obviously I didn’t even want you to pick me up from the bus stop an hour ago, let alone our neighbor’s house now, but I ain’t walking past this deer. I’m just not doing it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh my God, David… really… I’ll be right there.”

It was like I was 17 again and she was picking me up from the police station. It wouldn’t be until the next day, and all of her days to come, that Mom would find the humor in the situation. As if I hadn’t sufficiently disappointed her in life, 38-years old without a girlfriend or dollar to my name, and now I was requesting rides home in the middle of the night out of fear of deer.

The bitch-ass deer scattered as soon as the garage door opened and the engine-fueled car came barreling out. So much for “frozen in headlights.”

Mom picked me up, and the Costanza family dialogue instantly resumed.

“Where’s the deer?! I don’t see any deer!” she demanded.

“What?! It ran when it saw you coming! What do you think I’m lying? I just wanted to wake you up in the middle of the night so I could stand around sweating for ten minutes on the Cahill’s front lawn? You think I’m tellin’ stories about deer?!”

“I think you’re nuts! That’s what I think. A deer?! Really, come on.”

“Well, what the hell do I know about deer?! What am I, a deer expert? I know their behaviors and tendencies?”

“What?”

Mom was tired. She continued though. “Deer do not attack people.”

“That’s not what Google said.”

“Google?!”

“Yes, Google! You know? The world wide web.”

“Oh, God, gimme a break. Deer only attack if you try to attack them.”

“Oh really?! You know that?! What are you, Wildlife Jack--?”

 “—Jack?! Why am I a man? … I’d be Jane. Wildlife Janie.”

Finally we were home. By the time I went to my shower and Mom to sleep I got a laugh out of her, and Dad thoroughly enjoyed the story over breakfast. I have no beef with the deer – only sympathy – as we are both simply products of our environment, theirs’ overrun with American commerce, mine without any life necessity of understanding them. Maybe if we spent more time with the deer and understood they have all the same fears and desires as we do we wouldn’t so thoughtlessly displace them out from their homes, all the while avoiding them interpersonally at all costs. Maybe if the deer had access to better education and greater opportunities then their contributions in the long run would pay even greater dividends than the homogeny of more homes and fancy restaurants. Maybe then the world would be different. I would have succeeded at stand-up comedy and Mom would have slept through the night.

[aylamoenwyb]

Blooming

“Oh Duskmother is training going to be a failure today,” she’d muse with a little grimace.  Picking up her beloved stuffie, Mr. Onion and her linkpearls, she’d gingerly walk herself back to her bed and plop herself down upon it, her silken robes  puddling around her she’d pull the pillow Shiro slept on still scented with his dusky rose cologne, hugging it tight as she flopped over onto her tummy. Kicking her leg’s playfully in the air, she’d ring her sister on her link pearl.

Ayla hearing the ring on the pearl, would put her blush wand down, and pick up, “Hi Rose.  What’s up?”  Returning to her makeup. listening in, expecting to hear more about the marvels of ice cream or her training with Lord Shiro she’d almost stab herself in the eye as a very cross, indignant voice rang out, “You should have told me you erased everything left from Toriko!  Duskmother’s sake Ayla!  I didn’t ask for my…..flower back, just the tattoo gone what even possessed….I didn’t….the sheets...I...Ayla!”

Unable to help it Ayla would burst into laughter on the other end.  Partially from being found out, partially from Rose’s indignation and partially because she could already deduce what happened.  Deciding not to explain herself for the moment, she’d instead ask in a voice oozing in smugness, “So….how was your evening with Lord Chilly-pants?” Adding to her taunt, “It was Lord Chilly-pants right? You didn’t get so desperate I have to worry about like pulling Hank’s feather’s out of you now I hope”

“Ayla!”  a low growl heard on the other end as Ayla returned to putting on her mascara, huffing a soft chuckle that she was able to once again fluster her younger sister. “Ayla, I swear...one day…” sighing and collecting herself, Rose’s voice softening, “Yes I spent my evening with Lord Shiro, and I was already not prepared enough without your curve ball being stacked upon it all.  Oh gods am I sore….”

The elder sister’s voice softening on the other end, “Rose.  Sore is part of it, sorry to say. Aren’t you a warrior?  Think of it as battle or training.  You’ll get better, and your body will catch up I---Duskmother Rose, I healed back your mantle but you should know all this.  Didn’t it get easier with Shinji?  I mean I can’t imagine he was the gentlest partner sweetie.”

Her cheeks flashing hot she’d chew on one pausing before answering, “The only time Shinji was super rough was when he forgot he missed a step or twenty….and well I wasn’t expecting THAT part of me to be used.   That hurt.  And Shiro didn’t hurt me oh Duskmother!  What kind of monster do you even think he is?!”

“Well….” her sister’s voice trailing off as she thought she’d offer quietly, “A monster that did hunt my husband and originally more or less kill him…..twice.  Buuuuuuut, I still trust him...now.  Not with my husband, but with you, sure.” Giggling on the other end of the pearl, “Rose, other than being pissed at me for restoring any sign of Calar, how are you?”

Her voice filled with shy excitement, “Oh, I am perfect!  I am only not with Lord Shiro right now because it’s morning and he has business to attend to and I still need to take my bath and eat breakfast.  We have training later though….” her words pausing, when she’d next speak the awe would still be palatable, “Ayla.  He turned into a dragon.  Well, grew scales and wings and a tail like one and I think I almost passed out right there.  I mean, I already can’t stand near him without feeling flustered but when he transformed and had shimmering scales all over him, I swear I thought he was Azim brought back to this world and I about passed out! If his dragon cry didn’t cause my horns such painful ringing I probably would have.”

Giggling on the other end as she could hear the eager excitement and awe in her sister’s voice she’d also be taking note as she did not know Shiro had such powers, but Rose was not one to be false. “I would have loved to have seen your face.  He turned into a dragon in the bedroom though?  Dear sister, I’m all for people doing their thing, but that seems an odd way to start off.”

Gasping she’d realize she hadn’t been clear and Rose would giggle too, “Oh Duskmother NO! In our training that morning.  He wanted me to use my full power against him and try to at least outlast...I almost did it too, but,” she’d growl in soft playful frustration, “He got me again….ice cube.  Always ice cube or ice prison.  I even know it’s coming and still can’t get the better on him!” Laughing “But oh gosh no.  Last night was just handsome Lord Shiro with me in my Cabin.  And aside from my not knowing about your little healing stunt, it was perfect.” Realizing that Shiro had said nothing to her even in the morning about it, she’d chew her cheek and look down at her diamond ice bracelet, “Though I don’t know what Lord Shiro even thinks now about my prior life or experience.  He, as he usually is, was the perfect gentleman and did not even mention it or ask. So...thanks for giving me that awkward worry.”

Shaking her head,she’d shush her sister calmly on the other end, “Rose.  It does not matter.  Even if you were as experienced as my husband last night, and the signs clear, it does not matter.  What matters is that you do what your heart wishes. Which leads to me being the big butt hole of a sister right now, but did you do that? Or did you feel you had to?”  Waiting for her sister’s reply, Ayla would take a deep breath, her fingers tracing along her own collar hoping her Sister had learned these past cycles and that she was now only making choices she wanted, not what she thought others wanted for and of her.  She already felt she knew based on past talks with Rose about Shiro,but now seemed the best time to ask the young woman her thoughts.

“Oh gosh yes!  If anything, my heart was thanking secretly like every deity ever worshiped.  I mean, I still don’t know how to show him that...nor am I brave enough.  And I still worry I’m severely out classed and outsmarted.  He is so fancy and brilliant and I am well...I still have tribal furs in my closet.  But I have fought every urge I have to not just wrap my arms around him and not let go for moons now….even in my dreams I was fighting that.  No.  I very much did what my heart wanted.  And I believe what his heart needed as well.  He...he asked if I’d be his Lady. Stay with him even after this war is over.  I don’t know what a Lady exactly is to a Lord, but he scoffed when I asked if it was like Pet.  Said he’d never call me a pet...kinda seemed  aghast I’d even think such a thing.  I just thought it was the word for mate you know?”  Huffing a little happy sigh, “But yes sweet overprotective Sister, I am making the choices I want to make, and while I don’t know what happens next anymore than anyone else does, I know he cares for me back.  Everything is just so much more...tender...even when he’s trying to teach me something.”

Hearing Rose state and be sure of herself was a happy blessing in itself to the elder sister.  Still not wishing to get too dotey or serious she’d hum a soft laugh back, “Well the family harvest celebration table just got a lot more ...weird.  We women, we all get along great.  You, me Moli...but the menfolk….ever loving Duskmother.  I still haven’t told Captain what Sha did to me exactly, because I’d like Sha to live another day...maybe even two.  And Well Shiro and Captain, it’s progress they aren’t trying to slay each other anymore and we’ll leave that at that.  But it seems, my baby sis, little miss, ‘scales are a mark of warrior handsomeness’ has fallen in love with a furrball.”

Ayla’s joy over pointing out the irony of Rose’s disdain for Kuro having fur now that she too was paired with a Miqo'te, palatable, Rose would scoff, “Yours is still a furrball.  Mine is a king.”

Chuckling a little at her sister who she was pretty sure had no real memory of the chaos of the White Draco affair, “You have no idea.” Her voice softening as their conversation was winding to a close, “Rose. I am happy for you.  Despite the bickering you may see between him and me, Lord Shiro has proven himself a good, honorable man.  Just...don’t ever forget you have  a voice.  A purpose.  He cherishes you as you are.  And if that ever changes, then he isn’t deserving of you anymore.  But...if I had to guess, that’s not something you’ll have to worry about.”

“I know sis...you can stop momming me now.  And I’ll tell him I love him one day….just….I am not sure how nobles do that.  I’d like for at least one moment not to be my tribal fumbling self blurting out my thoughts.”  giggling, “But he keeps turning into dragons and oh Duskmother those kisses...I am not going to be able to stop myself.”  Looking up and realizing the time, “I should go though.  Training is in less than a bell and I need to be cleaned and fully armored ready to go….”  Pausing, before hanging up, “Ayla?”

“Yes Rose.”

“Thank you for healing away Calar.”

“You’re welcome Rose, but you did most of the work, I just removed the scars.  Go catch up to your lessons and your Furball. And stay safe.”

“You too.”  Hanging up the call, she’d hug Shiro’s pillow once more and take a deep sighing breath, parting with a smile, ready to set out on a new journey.

@captainkurosolaire

[discoveringthebible]

My Back Surgery

One month today I had emergency back surgery. 

When I started 2020, back surgery was the last thing on my mind, or anyone’s mind. While I have had known back issues most of my life, it didn’t seem like it was a necessity. Until I went into the emergency room on January 25th. I had taken some time off work to help my mom who just had neck surgery. My dad needed the extra help to make sure that my mom had everything she needed to be taken care of while she recovered. 

Unfortunately I ended up in extreme pain in my low back. I thought maybe I had aggravated one of the three disks in my low back. My dad talked me into going to the emergency room. I didn’t want to, because, as it had always been, they would give me good pain relievers, muscle relaxers and send me home. Plus, I needed to help with mom. I didn’t want to leave mom when she needed me. 

After finally seeing a doctor five hours after I arrived, he had x-rays ordered and an MRI. He wanted to check things out to see what might be going on, while he didn’t think anything was seriously wrong, he wanted to make sure. He did not like the look of the x-ray and had me do the MRI too. He called in a surgeon because something was wrong. 

The on-call surgeon came into the ER at 7:30am the next morning on January 26th, 13 hours after I arrived at the hospital and 8 hours after I had been on an extremely uncomfortable gurney. All the hospital beds were being used, and they were frantically searching for something more comfortable for me to lay on. I had been admitted to the hospital, but, because it was full, I was in that emergency room for almost 16 hours, before being transferred.

The surgeon explained to me the x-rays and the MRIs. It turned out from my medical stuff last year, I had a full body MRI scan done, because they were looking for cancerous lymph nodes and other problems, which I did not have. The MRIs were 11 months and 2 weeks apart. In that span of time, the disk in my spine at T-12/L-1, which had been protruding for over 13 years, had begun to harden and calcify up against my spinal chord, greatly increasing my risk of becoming paralyzed. If the spinal chord gets damaged, or cut, then there is no reversing that, even with all of today’s technology. The surgeon also explained that a bone spur also began to grow just above it, up against the spinal chord, so the threat of becoming paralyzed was not just in one spot, but two. The previous MRI showed no signs of this. The only thing that I had done in the previous year was become a barista (again) and there is a lot of bending, twisting, lifting and straining that is not good for my back. But I LOVE the job. While we cannot say for certain what caused it, all that unnatural movement over the last year didn’t help. 

After all this explanation from the surgeon, he said that I had a choice. He said I could go home with pain medicine, but my condition would continue to get worse. He said I wouldn’t have been able to care for my mom and to take it easy. :( He said he recommended surgery, but at the end of the day, I had to choose to have it done. He said that if I did go home, that I could risk making a wrong move, or if I had a car accident, etc., that it would cause paralysis. And while I joked that I could rock a cobalt blue wheel chair, I knew that my living situation at home was not ready if I did need to use a wheelchair. 

[Four years ago, mid February 2016, I blew a disk out in my back, and spent three days in the hospital re-learning how to walk and I had to have extensive physical therapy. I blew out L4/L5. While it was bad, and while it was jagged up against my spinal chord, that hospital determined surgery wasn’t necessary, yet. And who knew 4 years later, that disk posed no immediate threat to my ability to walk. Praise God.]

I have to admit I was scared, although, not as scared as my first emergency surgery in December of 2015. (That was for my infected gallbladder. While I was scheduled for an out patient procedure on December 28th 2015, I ended up having surgery on December 25th at 1am because the infection spread and it was threatening my life.)

Surgery was not on my mind and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I asked the surgeon if I could think about it. He chuckled and said, “Of course! And I will check back in with you.” I appreciated that. 

The first thing I did was panic, and the nurse who was looking after me asked what the surgeon had said. Her response was, “Would you like to speak with a chaplain?” I hadn’t thought of that. And I took her up on it and asked for a Christian one. (Knowing a couple of chaplains, I do know that there are different religious chaplains in hospitals, prisons and in the military.) The chaplain was very kind and compassionate, listening to what I was going through, as well as my aspirations of becoming a Nazarene Pastor. And, while he had never met me before, he also recommended something that several others have over the last 8 years: he told me that I would make a good chaplain because of my ability to listen to people and that I am a compassionate person. 

After an hour and a half, he prayed with me, reminded me of some great scriptures, which have now escaped my memory, as my nurse had come in with some great pain relievers and I was exhausted. And he left. I called my parents and asked what I should do. At this point I was leaning toward surgery, but I knew that would put a really big bind on them, especially my dad who would be the only one taking care of both my mom and I. They said go for it. I was there at the hospital already and they could perform it in the next day or two. 

Then I had to call my work. After being on FMLA leave to care for my mom, I had to call and explain what was currently happening. One of the assistant store managers, I work at Safeway, answered. She was the one who I was working with about my leave with my mom. While she was incredibly surprised that now I was in a medical bind, she encouraged me to go with the surgery and that when I was healed I could get back to work and to not worry about work. She also explained that she would talk to my immediate supervisor and to just prepare for the surgery and that whenever my dad could, he could get the paperwork for me to have fill out. I have never had such a great experience with medical issues anywhere I have ever worked. (And I have worked since I was sixteen, except the year and a half when I couldn’t work and take college courses.)   

I asked my nurse to let the surgeon know I decided I was going to have surgery. She forwarded it, but it seemed he knew that I was going to have it, as he had me down for surgery on that Monday. (When he talked, he wanted it done Sunday, but because I hadn’t had a firm yes, he moved it to Monday.) 

Monday came around (by this time I was already extremely bored, as I was waiting to have this done.) Some of my family came, as well as some people from my church who stopped by. But as it got later and later, no one seemed to know when I was going up for surgery. Then at almost 5pm a nurse came in and said matter-of-factly, “You’re not ready? They are on their way for you. You need to get wiped down.” While I could have said a lot of things, and I know my family wanted to say more, they helped me get all prepped for surgery. I kissed everyone goodbye, we said our I love you’s. And off I went. One of my cousins and my dad followed behind me as I went upstairs for surgery. My mom waited in my hospital room. I met all the people who were going to be in the O.R. with me, except one nurse they were waiting on. She was going to be responsible for monitoring my spinal chord and nerves to make sure that I didn’t have any problems. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it to the hospital. She was assisting in another O.R., in a different hospital about thirty minutes away. Instead of waiting for her, the surgeon decided to postpone it until the following day. (Initially, I was frustrated. As my family was.)

There was no communication between the surgical team and my nurses, who at first thought I had the surgery completed. And I said, they had to postpone it. It was nuts. While the surgical team was very attentive to my needs, as far as the surgery went, I cannot say the same for almost all of the nurses that I had during my stay. At first it wasn’t so bad, that is, before my surgery. After my surgery, I had to fight to get my medicine on time. I had to fight to make sure I had what I needed. I had never experienced that before. Usually, especially after major surgery, they are on top of making sure I am as comfortable as I can be. The night staff certainly did their best. And the CNA’s of the day shift. 

I ended up suffering from extreme pain more than I needed to during my stay at the hospital. And that was partially because of the lack of care that I received. Looking back on it, even though I could have been extremely angry and upset, I wasn’t. God had given me a sense of peace and a sense that He had never left my side once. It was one of the closest experiences I have ever had to God, even though I generally feel pretty close to Him. I did have to have a conversation with one nurse who was completely out of line. I will not go into details, but it seemed that while, yes, she was busy, she neglected my basic needs as a patient and left me with someone else, who had no idea what they were doing or how they could help me. After that conversation, she did better.

It was good that the surgery was a success and that I could get up and walk. Because I knew that if I could get up on my own, go to the bathroom on my own, they would let me go home. I knew I would do better at home than at the hospital.

The very first thing I noticed after the surgery was just how well I could feel my toes and feet. Over the last year, it was a gradual decline in my ability to feel them and I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, because I could walk on my own just fine. 

The few days after the surgery (Wednesday, Thursday and Friday) I do not remember much, except how much pain I was in and how uncomfortable I was. I cannot even remember all who came to visit me in the hospital those days. :( 

Having Fibromyalgia on top of having this major surgery, they did have some difficulty finding a proper pain management for me. But even when they did, they didn’t always implement it on time, setting me back in progress. For two days I had very low blood pressure, 80/55 was one I remembered, (normal is 120/80) because of the amount of medicine they gave me, to counter act giving me medicine late. I couldn’t get up, I was dizzy and nauseous, I could barely stay awake and they had to put me back on oxygen. They regretted pulling out the catheter because that meant I had to get up to go to the bathroom and I became a fall risk. And with my PCOS (yes, I know, I have a lot of medical issues), I went almost 1 week without my medication, which lead to aunt Flo showing up just 2 hours before surgery, extreme hot flashes, and moodiness.

Initially, they told me I could go home on Friday. But because of the oxygen and low blood pressure on Thursday, they wanted to keep me an extra day and to make sure that I could survive on only oral pain medication. When Saturday rolled around, I got up to walk. I ended up walking around the hospital wing twice because I wanted to prove that I could go home. (It was mostly because after 8 days, I just wanted to get the heck out of there.) And they finally let me go home. And I have been flourishing ever since. 

But, it has only been 1 month. And I still have 2 more to go before I can really do the things I was doing before all this happened in the first place. I will be able to start physical therapy mid-March (FINALLY!) and hopefully I will be able to go back to work at the end of April. 

One thing that God is teaching me through all of this is patience. This has been one of the hardest lessons that God has been teaching me over the years and He keeps coming back to it, so I know patience is extremely important. Plus, it is a spiritual fruit. I have more patience now than when I was a teenager, but I know that I still have a ways to go. 

James, Jesus’ brother, wrote:

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.” (James 1:2-4, NLT). 

  Paul wrote to the Romans:

“Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying.” (Romans 12:12, NLT)

Paul wrote to the Galatians:

“But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience (or long-suffering), kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!” (Galatians 5:22-23.)

Paul wrote to the Colossians:

“We also pray that you will be strengthened with all his glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need. May you be filled with joy, always thanking the Father.” (Colossians 1:11-12a, NLT). 

And this is my prayer for you today that no matter what it is that you are currently going through, or that you will go through that God will give you the strength to be able to get through it. I know God is capable of doing this, as He did this for me during my hospital stay, as well as He has been with me during this time at home recooperating. 

Peace and Blessings to all,

Cody

[unplacedpodcast]

Chapter Six: Moratorium (Transcript)

Apologies for the delay in posting! I was at PodCon all weekend and it’s been a bit wackadoodle since I got back. As usual, spoilers below. 

Note: This episode has content that might be disturbing or upsetting for some listeners, specific content warnings are underneath the cut.

Content warnings: alcohol/binge drinking (at the beginning of the episode), suicide (towards the end of the episode)

(ding of audio recording starting - when Narrator starts speaking, she sounds very rough, has clearly been crying and possibly drinking)

NARRATOR: How…how am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s not? I’m so tired. I’m so tired of trying to figure it out. This is all scary, and confusing, and I’m so lonely…if this is purgatory, can I just go one way or the other now? I’m sorry for whatever I did that stuck me here. I JUST WANT TO GO HOME! (voice breaks) I’m sorry, okay? (whispers) I’m sorry. (sniffles) Why am I even doing this? It’s not like anyone is listening anyways.

(click, pause, then ding of audio recording starting again; Narrator sounds much more chipper now, though still not 100%, and sounds a little sheepish when she starts talking)

NARRATOR: Hey. So, uh, sorry about that. I’m leaving it in for…journalistic integrity or something…but also because I’m not entirely sure anyone is listening, so why waste time editing out embarrassing drunken episodes of depression? (bitter laugh)

I’m also only working with one hand at the moment, so I’m trying to keep unnecessary typing and clicking and audio editing to a minimum. As you may have gathered, my little experiment didn’t go over too well. I thought I was hurting it, at first - it recoiled and there was a big crater in it, along with some gross sizzling noises, but then it…attacked, around and through the hematite, and hit my hand, and…yeah.

(sharp intake of breath) It hurt like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. That was a week or two ago and my hand is still covered in something resembling chemical burns. But it’s…it’s not as bad as it was. I don’t think there will be any permanent damage, especially because I’ve been making sure to stretch and move it as it heals, even though that’s pretty much excruciating. But at least I shouldn’t lose any range of movement.

Let me tell you, fighting off the urge to faint on a public sidewalk, and then making it back to wherever home is for the night, and then having to peel off strands of stone that are practically fused to your skin, and figure out treatment, all while completely alone…not in my top ten favorite activities. If I can be frank with you, not in my top hundred activities.

I should make a t-shirt to commemorate this whole hellish experience. “I punched a brain leech with shitty homemade brass knuckles and all I got was this lousy t-shirt! (…and also these burn scars!)” (snort)

Anyways, after that whole experience, can you blame a girl for hitting the bottle a bit? If nothing else, I needed some painkillers, because the ibuprofen was not cutting it.

The whole experience taught me something, though: I don’t care any more. I don’t care how curious I am about what’s going on, or how much it annoys me that I have no idea what’s going on, or my growing uncertainty about whether I’m actually a complete basket-case or not. Not my monkeys, not my circus. (pause) Maybe partially my monkeys, but I can definitely ignore the circus.

I don’t even know if those things are evil. It could be a totally symbiotic relationship, right? For all I know, those things are the barnacles of the brain, and like, give these people ideas or something. I just assumed they were up to no good because they look like something out of a Ridley Scott movie.

So if you think about it, I’m probably the bad guy here, just assuming that something has bad intentions because it looks like a parasite from Geiger’s nightmares, and then following it around and harassing it. Well, my bad, I learned that lesson and I’m never messing with one of those fuckers again. I’m just going to keep my head down for a while, at least until my hand heals completely.

Given the lack of paranormal PI shenanigans planned for the foreseeable future, I’m not quite sure what’s on the agenda for our time together today. I guess we’ll find out as we go along.

(muffled noise, audio dings off then turns back on again in a coffee shop with all of the background noise)

One big downside to this whole invisibility thing is that I can’t order coffee any more. I even tried using a pre-order app and it just continually glitches. I used to just hover around until someone ordered a drink close enough to what I wanted and swipe it when it came up. But the last time I did that, the barista got yelled at by an angry soccer mom with the “can I speak to your manager” haircut. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to cost someone their job just because I want my espresso.

That means I either have to swipe a cup and fill it with hot coffee, or do the same thing with iced coffee, or buy the pre-made stuff from a grocery store. I swear. My kingdom for a hot mocha with coconut milk and no whipped cream.

First world problems, huh? (laughs)

It feels good to joke about it, though! I knew this whole keeping my head down thing would work out better in the long run. I feel better already.

(Narrator sips on coffee and leaves coffee shop, the background noise shifts to be that of a busy street - cars in addition to people, etc)

What now? Maybe I’ll go shopping. I’ve been neglecting my look, because it feels a little weird paying attention to what you’re wearing when nobody else can see it. If you put effort into your personal style but literally nobody is physically able to observe your personal style, do you actually have a style? File under, “more philosophical quandaries I’d never thought of before a few months ago.”

If I’m trying to get back to normal, then why not? I’ll just take only one or two things from each store, so that no one person is going to take all the blame.

In fact, maybe I’ll experiment a little bit! I was always afraid to try anything too far outside my comfort zone before, but if there was ever a time to try new things, it’s now. I don’t have to worry about whether it’s work appropriate or not. I can do whatever I want with my hair and my clothes. It’s another small upside of this whole ordeal.

I just have to - wait. There’s one of those symbols I told you about - I said I’d stay away from the monsters, but the symbols…I’m still curious about them. And I haven’t seen anything that indicates that the monsters - I mean, the totally non-malovolent worms - have been painting the symbols or even would be able to create them. I’m totally okay to check this out, then.

(footsteps as NARRATOR walks down an alleyway)

I think I’ve seen this one before - the same design was near the library, but that one was smaller. I - hello? Hi? Are you looking at me? You can see me?!

(muffled sounds of movement as NARRATOR starts running, is panting and bumping into people in the crowd)

NARRATOR: (panting) I lost her - there was someone standing by the symbol, maybe she just finished painting it? She was looking right at me - I don’t know, the loneliness could be playing tricks on me but I swear to god she looked straight into my eyes, nobody has done that in weeks… (pause for panting) When she realized I was looking back at her, she looked entirely freaked the fuck out - she started running and I couldn’t - I couldn’t catch her.

There’s a big crowd up ahead, she disappeared into it, I think. I have to find her!

(sound of running/moving faster, pushing through a crowd)

Holy shit. The woman who could see me isn’t here, but - there’s someone else, standing on the bridge - oh no. No no no. She’s on the bridge, she’s standing on the railing, and she looks like - oh god, she’s gonna jump. Maybe I can -

(more sounds of movement)

HEY! NO! Stop!

Wh - I think she can hear - shit. It’s the woman from the other day in the psychic’s shop - with the hematite necklace. I think she can hear me, she started when I yelled - hey, can you hear me?

(her voice is shaking but trying to stay calm and soothing, like she’s talking to a wild animal) C’mon, get down, you don’t have to do this. I can help - I’ll help you. C’mere, it’s okay. I promise it’ll be okay.

Yeah, yeah, just come over here, it’ll be fine. I promise, it’ll be -

Nononono! NO! Shit shit shit, no - no…

(someone in the crowd/background screams, Narrator is crying, obviously v upset by this)

Oh my god. She…(sniff) she was coming towards me, she looked super out of it - her eyes were all glazed over - but she had started to get off the railing, and then she - jerked? It was like the leech thing - it’s like it was moving her like…a puppet or something - I don’t (retches/coughs) I’ve never - people don’t move like that. She didn’t want to, she looked like she was trying to fight it - the look in her eyes - but she couldn’t - she - and the thing sort of, it disconnected itself and slithered down, and she looked back at me one more time and then she jumped. There’s no way she survived - she’s got to be floating in the river somewhere. I don’t - I can’t…

(audio recording cuts off)

[theroadfromustome]

Mile 71

So never got on that followup post. That was Sunday night. It’s now Thursday morning and I do need to get my ass to the office, but I think it would benefit me to process some things first. For context, it’s production week, and I’m so weary. I feel like I could sleep for three days. I may also be moderately depressed? If that’s possible? Bc I feel low on motivation. I dunno maybe I’m just moping. Things are so...active...lately.... I dunno. Like I’m not even sure where I am anymore. I keep trying to go with the flow, but the flow is...so new and I sometimes feel like I don’t know how to keep up with it. It’s not bad necessarily. Just... I guess I’m still trying to sort out where I stands between the social, dating (I had another first date last night. what the hell?) woman and the homebody watching movies and hanging on her husband’s words. Ugh and I definitely don’t want to go back to her. But also I haven’t written much since I moved in; there’s S who has been sidelined more lately, there’s my professional development that has been shelved, I haven’t been spending as much time with my mom of late...these things are all not like me. But maybe they are? How to move forward and not lose the good parts of the old? The thing about dating is that I’m trying to represent who I am, and I’m not even sure who that is fully at the moment. It’s a bit confounding.

So first, there’s J. I saw him again on Saturday. It was rather different because I had to be back for my friend’s wedding that evening so I had a deadline and drove up in the morning and then back in the afternoon. So there was some element of rush to it. Also, it rained, and that mostly kept us indoors in his apartment. And it’s funny. Bc I certainly had a good time, as always. He was certainly as wonderful as ever. But I can’t think about it without unease, discontent, melancholy even. I can’t help feeling that I did something--not wrong, not wrong, not WRONG she says for her own self worth---that freaked him out a bit. Which I know, is his problem. But it makes me sad if this is going to end. Just because it seems so good. If he feels at all like I do then we generate happiness when together...and of course *clock clock fssssteam heat.* And then of course the less brave part of myself, the one I am always working to master feels like I was more vulnerable this time, more open, and that glimpse of me in my truest sense is what made him retreat; and that’s rejection--my personal kryptonite. So I wish I could say I haven’t wept over him this week; but that would be a lie. I wish I could say he didn’t affect me like this; that I was stronger and grounded enough that I could put this in perspective and lower the damn stakes. That I didn’t take three days to recover after seeing him and experience an emotional roller coaster after each date. But again, that would be untrue. Something I need to examine with my therapist when next we meet (next week at last!) is why I have such a pull towards romantic relationships; why I have this sick addiction, why I run full speed at them even if it means it will be too much too fast and then leave me with whiplash and overtax the engine or whatever. Much ado superquick about ultimately nothing because I couldn’t chill out and pace myself. 

I keep telling myself this. But also this song keeps playing through my head:

“His eyes light up and how can I complain? I did not know the rules do not apply...”

The more I get to know him, the more I am endeared to all his little idiosyncrasies, as his strengths and weaknesses. I can gush here bc noone is listening, noone else wants to hear this. But yes, his smile makes little warm sensations bloom in my stomach. I like his chuckle and the timbre of his voice. I like the line of his jaw and his temple--I always want to touch it, run my fingers over the line of it. I love his overlarge polish nose, esp, when it is pressed to mine as she kisses me, as I gasp against his mouth. And then of course there is his mouth...such clever lips that turn me to complete jelly; but also I can’t explain, it’s not just when he’s kissing me...I love the way they shape around a jest or an explanation, his smile... He will yammer on and on about a point until its complete conclusion; he’s scientifically logical to a fault--he must accurately qualify things--and I find it delightful.  He worries that he is an old man; talks wistfully about the days before his autoimmune started to limit his actions and energy and I just want to wrap him in my arms and kiss him all over and assure him that he isn’t old; that he can fall apart and I won’t judge him; that he can rest in me and I will be there as loyally as ever. I wish to help him find his way back to that self he misses, all the while adoring the current version of J.  

He has a terrible patch of hangnails on his right thumb, and I find it endearing. Why is that? He gets droopy after he eats, and I find it endearing. What am I doing? When we are in the process of sex, he will catch my fingers in his and run his thumb along my wrist...and it reaches into my heart and tugs on it. But I know he doesn’t mean any of it the way my poor embattered soul takes it. I know he doesn’t feel the same way, that he’s not thinking about me right now, that he hasn’t memorized my expressions; isn’t obsessing about my fingers or whatever. The sex is great, because it feels like he lets down his guard some and that he wants me in some way. But once it’s over he pulls back again...it’s almost transactional. He’ll never admit to enjoying my company without me saying something first, he never compliments me, and if it weren’t for physical tells I wouldn’t know that he desired me either. I mean, in his manner he is amenable...but he won’t touch me, or kiss me, unless it’s related to sex.  I cannot tell how much he actually enjoys  my body as much as enjoys playing it like an instrument. It’s not like with other men who have told me how muh they want me...I tried this time to give him that; to be open about how much I desire him, how much I want him. If I tell him I like him or am fond of him one more time he may vomit. 

At one point were making out, etc. And I thought “God I adore his smile. He’s so handsome,” and he saw this on my face and asked. And I didn’t want to be weird so I was trying to tell him and not be weird and I don’t want to scare him away, and he said “It sounds like you’re trying to tell me you’ve fallen in love with me but you don’t want to scare me away.” And I responded “Oh no! I’m not there...that’s...” (Very articulate. This is true though. Love is something I cannot swear to this early, and it’s a big ass deal after last time.) And part of me wonders...what would he say if I said yes? Was he trying to tell me something? “But all he said was” (Ragtime? anyone?): “We wouldn’t be here (having sex) if I wasn’t interested in you.” Right. Interested. That’s what a girl wants to hear. Conclusion: he is not where I am. He’s not over sentimental. He’s being careful and grounded, and also. I’m not the amazing person he is. So of course he’s not in my thrall as I am in his. I’ve known from the beginning that once he got to really know me, he'd realize I wasn’t for him. “Don’t you know that time is not my friend, I’ll fight it to the end, hoping to keep this best of moments when the passions start. Heaven help my heart the day that I find suddenly I’ve run out of secrets...” Another moment: He was...engaging in an activity that was very nice for me (don’t want to be cliche, but he touches me in a way I’ve never experienced before and...bloody hell...) and he was coaxing me with endearments and I know that was just sex talk, but some part of me wanted it to be real. I keep hearing the word “love” fall from his lips, and I think “wouldn’t it be wonderful to be cherished by such a man? I don’t know what I can give him in return, but it would be so beautiful to be loved by him.” 

In some ways I just wish he could be candid. “Listen A, I’m not into you like you are into me, and your pushy oversentimentality is kinda freaking me out. I may want to bang you, but I don’t want to start calling you sweetheart. Ok?” It’s probably a good thing I can’t see him again for a month. (In the meantime I’m going to see S, so that’s a whole other bundle of what the fuck am I doing? “Look at your life, look at your choices.”) Anyway, this time I’m going to try (we shall see if I succeed) to sit on my hands and not contact him, not present him with dates; to let him ask me. And maybe he’ll decide he doesn’t miss my company and that will be that. Except that I will be left with his birthday present. 

So that was Saturday, and that night I was at my friend’s wedding and I flirted shamelessly with one of her friends and then he got in touch with my friend and got my info and asked me to dinner which was last night. I said yes partially on principle--I need to remind myself that J is not the only man on the planet. This fellow, P, is nice, but there’s not the same crackle there that I feel with J. He may also be a bit more cowed by my recent history and child. But I may see P again. I would never have thought this would be me. I’ve never spent so much time flirting with different men in my life. Also, my libido is way up. That’s new. I blame J. 

Parting song for today:

[restorerjourney]

Week 9: Mission’s Week

June 8, 2021

This week was probably the most free yet difficult week I’ve experienced here in DTS. It’s mostly involving my frustration of not being healed no matter how hard I prayed, cried, and had others pray for me and as elementary as it sounds, I really felt God was going to do it. 

Just to back track, this week we were originally supposed to have our missionary speaker come from Haiti but due to COVID, he/she couldn’t make it. So on Monday we had this radical missionary Daniel Hoogteijling who is one of the staff members her talk about his life and the great commission. He is from the Netherlands and has a heart for Africa. It was so amazing and inspiring to hear his experience of truly living a life of faith and obedience even willing to die for the gospel by going to a warzone in the middle of Africa despite having a family back in the Netherlands and how God has delivered him and used him to restore families and communities there. I was also amazed by his wife’s faith and obedience when he told her about it and she supported him despite having 3 kids. 

Here are some highlighted quotes he said...

“You may not feel qualified, but God is with you.”

“When God tells us to go, we go in the confidence of His presence.”

“Your prayers don’t need a passport, You may not get the privilege that I have, but pray that God will move at the sound of your voice.”

“John piper said about the Christians “ you either go, send, or disobey”

Then he lead us in prayer to invite the Holy Spirit to reveal where God called us after DTS. As I was praying I truly opened my heart and hands to his authority, confessing to God that I would go wherever He would send me. Then Daniel said “ maybe someone of you guys are called to business”, and the moment that happened Pastor Sunny laid his hands on me which startled me a bit. If you were to ask me what seemed more impossible, to start a business or to go Africa, I would choose the later. I said no to business awhile back seeing what it has done to our family as my mom sacrificed so much because of her restaurant business. I’ve worked in business and the idol of money and the difficulties you face daily was not one bit attractive to me or what I would think bring me joy. Yet God revealed to me during this DTS that when people truly love God like they say the do, they are willing to obey and follow him, even if they don’t initially want to. They obey and trust that God knows better, so I decided to pray about it

That night we had Ministry night where we gather to worship at Ohana court which is this huge stadium in the middle of campus. We had one of the staff leaders named Frenchie lead it and from what I have been told, he is gifted in prophecy and healing. He is about my age but he looks like a small, Middle Eastern, ganster with tattoos all over him and huge earrings. Not your typical looking Christian but experiencing him lead worship I could confirm that he had those gifts given by God. As lead altar calls and seeing many young people give their lives to Christ, confess shame, and declare spiritual warfare against their addictions, he did a session on healing. When I and including multiple people raised their hand so that people around them could pray for them. We told those around us what the pain level was, and for me it was an 8 out of 10. Then through his leadership we all prayed and in a count of 3 shouted out Jesus. Some of the people who raised their hands got healed. For those who didn’t including myself we did it again, and I felt my pain literally go from 8 to 3. That was kinda crazy and I kept moving my neck and although I had twinge here or ache there it was not as bad as before and I couldn’t believe it. I then started to wonder why was it only partial if our God is a God who can completely heal. I pondered this in my heart too afraid that it might affect my healing for some reason. 

The next day my pain was back to an 8 out of 10. That really discouraged me and grew the doubt about healing, whether God wanted to heal me, and His character. This made me face my unbelief and underlying frustration that I’ve had about my shoulder bursitis, neck arthritis, and pcos that I’ve been battling with for almost 10 years. During the week, we have our weekly team ministry time called “Revive, Rebuild, Renew” where our leader would lead us in worship and prayer. Surprisingly he asked me to come up front of our team to receive prayer. He confessed and apologized that he didn’t have us pray because he was afraid that I wouldn’t get healed and he had his unbelief he had to deal with. He shared how everyone knew how much I suffered with this physcial pain that during class most of the time I will be standing massaging a tennis ball on my shoulders and neck. So they all laid their hands on me and started praying and that’s when I started to break down. In my heart I begged God that this was it, I am done with pain, Lord no more, please, no more. I kept crying and screaming it out over and over again. I felt everyone crying and praying in tongue over me so much that their arms on me was almost too much to bear. It broke their heart to see me fall apart like this and it broke my heart to witness how much I was not alone in this. I haven’t cried out like this in awhile nor have I ever cried about this before. It was just so much pent up anger and frustration before God that was unleashed. After prayer, I still didn’t get healed but everyone encouraged me and in my heart of hearts I do believe I will be fully healed in this life time, it just wasn’t God’s timing yet. One of the staff leaders shared with me later that when she prayed, she felt God asking her to ask me whether if there was anything internal that may cause this external effect. At first I couldn’t think of it because I forgave, repented, broke off everything I could think of during my time in DTS. I still believe it but the next day and the day after I have been having strange and difficult dreams. These dreams would usually consist of someone stealing everything that I had, that I had something wrong on my body that is permanent, or someone trying to break into my room or house and I felt afraid. I did realize then I had insecurity about the future after DTS. I haven’t really prayed about it but I felt convicted that this was probably the time for me to start. 

The rest of the week we spent a day doing a tour at Captain cook with Pastor Sunny, we ate Hawaiian mcdonalds for the first time, Heejae and I did our presentation on Mexican culture, learned about a evangelism program called “Alpha” that we will utilize in Mazatlan, and zoomed called one of the staff leaders in Mexico as a team. During the weekend, we didn’t drive anywhere and mostly chilled, catch up with friends and family, and ate out local. It was a much needed weekend after that exhausting week.

Praise report, I am fully funded for my entire DTS! That means God provided $9,555. I had a total of 70 supporters! I have never raised this much in my life and this experience really confirmed me that God wanted me to come here. I am beyond words grateful to all my friends and coworkers who supported me and for God to confirm me in this way. 

Prayer requests:

1) Physical healing over my shoulder pain ( bursitis), neck pain ( mostly arthritic), and still not having my period due to pcos ( tomorrow is my last day). I still believe in God’s promise to heal me and it’s not his timing. I am taking it day by day but by tomorrow if I have no cycle, please pray for clarity whether if I should go back on the birth control pill or to continue to wait. I have bough physical therapy bands, a new cervical pillow, scheduled an appointment with a chiropractioner, and will be receiving healing prayer this friday so I’m doing all that I can on my end. Please pray that God would release his healing power over me soon.

2) Direction after DTS. Whether if it is to start a business, do a medical missionary at ships, to go back home and work for someone as an optometrist, or something else, in the end please pray that I would obey God and follow through. Please pray that my insecurities would not take hold of me from obeying Him.

3) Preparation for Mazatlan

Mahalo for your time and prayers!

Alicia

[thislifeisyours-ifyouwantit]

7/21/2020

If anyone ever finds this, the following mentions suicide. Please take care of yourself. This is my recount of discovering that Ante’s many attempts at suicide finally were successful.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been 6 days since Ante Meridian, who went by Yashka Ante Meridian, died by suicide. Since this is my personal blog and I do not tag this for anyone to find, more importantly I don’t want anyone to find this blog in the first place, I will recount everything I know since that day.

It was 7:30 PM on July 15th. I was just getting in my car to go to the gym after a several hours of homework. Earlier that day I had an argument with my roommate, Emily, about her being reckless and going to a place infested with COVID-19... So I did not pick up the call from an “Emily” at 3:30 earlier that afternoon. 

Hailey, one of Ante’s friends and my own, messaged me on Snapchat. “Hey do you know anyone in Ellensburg or CWU?”

I replied, “Yeah why, did something happen?”

Without warning... Hailey told me the blunt truth. “Ante committed suicide earlier today.”

I felt my heart drop, and panic set in. This wasn’t the first time I’ve run into Ante being extremely mentally ill and threatening and/or attempting suicide. But this is the first time someone else told me about this... About them. I didn’t think that one day, they would be successful. 

I called Hailey, panicked. It was a rumor spreading among friends- that it was confirmed Ante had committed suicide. I ran over to their house which was only down the street. I called the number posted at their door; a roommate had left it.

The roommate confirmed this is true.

I went home and sat in my car, crying my eyes out. I called everyone I knew: Helena, Danny, my parents... It’s ironic, because 4 days prior, the last conversation I would ever have with Ante was about asserting a boundary with talking to my mom. It was about how they shouldn’t talk to my parents if they aren’t talking to me. I didn’t know that was the last conversation I would have with them. Now my mom keeps talking about how Ante posted a comment on her wall... And I don’t have the ability to tell her that I told them not to talk to her... Because I feel like my parents would blame me for their suicide. 

(For the record: I don’t regret asserting my boundary, which was important. I regret that that’s the last thing we had ever talked about).

I cried on and off that entire day. I cried on my way back to the west side, where currently I reside. I did not sleep a single hour that night. Even now I’m paranoid that their soul is watching me. Strange.

The days that followed were nothing like I was used to. Grief is funny that way. I was nauseated and didn’t want to eat much. I’m still experiencing bouts of nausea. I’ve been sleeping non-stop, and even after I wake up I’m still exhausted. The first two days after they died, I acted as a temporary liaison between Ante’s family and the roommates, as the roommates were struggling very much... And I also planned a vigil for the 25th. I even visited Emily- which brings me back to, I missed the original call Emily had sent me, at 3:30 that day. My roommate and their grandmother shared the same name, so I didn’t pick up that important call. I would’ve known sooner.

At first I tried to remain productive because that’s all I ever know. Throw myself into something when something traumatic is happening. But the days after really showed how it took a toll on me. It still is. I don’t really think they’re gone. I haven’t processed they’re gone, even though I read the police report given to me by Amanda, their cousin. I feel as if my brain is struggling to accept it’s real. At first I dissociated hardcore for days on end, and tried to snap myself out of it by seeking suicide-related stuff (DDLC Sayori, Aokigahara Forest etc) and researching the terminology behind their death in the police report. Purposefully trying to trigger myself just to feel something. I still can’t tell if what I did in response- the extreme need to look at violence- was a response to stopping my dissociation, as I wanted to accept what happened, or if it was self-destructive. Maybe both.

The scary part is I don’t feel much of anything when I look at suicide stuff now. That’s probably an indicator I’m still dissociating. Usually that content is highly triggering.

Max stayed with me a couple of nights, but right now he might be positive of COVID-19 due to contact with a small outbreak in his store. He’s not displaying symptoms and neither am I so that’s good, but he got tested yesterday so we’ll see in 3-5 days. 

I feel as if I’m one of the rare people who knows how they died. Reading that police report would stop my imagination from seeing the worst, that’s why I asked for it from Amanda. They hung themselves via a belt in the backyard from a branch. The roommates didn’t even find them- somehow, a small fire had begun on the back deck, which alerted the firefighters to drop by. That’s how they were found. They had to wake up the roommate after it all had happened. Ante was already long gone by the time firefighters had gotten there. 

There was a suicide note. It was surprisingly short. That’s how you know Ante’s attempted this several times, aside from the fact I know they’ve attempted a couple of times and written several suicide notes before. I think they thought they wouldn’t be successful again, and that’s why it was so short. 

“I have found a lot of comfort in the color orange. A sunset. A glowing cigarette. I loved this world but cannot continue. My name was Yashka Ante Meridian.” Signed and dated. 

I don’t know what else to say, other than grieving when you saw this coming (due to years of experience of knowing them, knowing they had BPD, bipolar and schizophrenia/psychosis) & grieving when you are already traumatized is so different. Everyone else easily weeps. I weep day in, day out, especially on walks listening to music... But this is so much more complicated, because of our previous relationship. Even their family confirmed that they felt that one day, this would happen. 

I spent 4 years of our relationship trying to get them to be better. They did try- psychiatrists, counselors, meds, other coping strategies- but when you have that horrid cocktail of mental problems, sometimes it isn’t enough. 

Do I think they’re weak? Partially, in all honesty. A part of me knows they’ve always wanted this peace, that they’ve always wanted to be dead for years. I also know they suffered for so long, and this may have been their only way of relief. But if I imagine myself talking to them (I do often), I am often mad. In a matter-of-fact way, with no pity or longing. I am mad that they caused this so much pain for others. I am mad that I feel like they wouldn’t understand that because we hadn’t talked much, that didn’t mean I didn’t care. I am angry that it’s possible they thought I wouldn’t grieve so much. 

My dad said that suicide was the most selfish act. All I can think to myself is, it’s so selfish to not understand someone like I do, and judge them solely on how they affected others. Not a lot of people understood just how much Ante had suffered, but I did, I always did. I can’t really forgive my father for saying that, because he doesn’t realize that this might have been the only way for Ante to feel relief.

All I can do from this point onward is take it one day at a time. Today was the first day I actually did my school work.

[ggungabyfish]

Part OneMy Uncle arrived late today, so I'm locked in my room to write this. The past two days have been far more eventful than expected.After my last update, I went to bed. I didn't experience sleep paralysis that night. Instead, I had a dream.It was dark, and it felt like I was being smothered. I was wrapped in a damp blanket, laying in what felt like mud. It was soaking into my clothes through the blanket, chilling me to the bone. Then the dream changed, and I was sitting in my grandpa's workshop, a little shack he'd built about fifteen minutes into the woods.I was cross legged on the floor, which appeared to be moving. It was completely dark.Then, a flash of lightning lit up the boards and I saw dozens of worms and maggots writhing on the dirty woods. I screamed, clenching my eyes shut and shoving myself backwards to get away from the disgusting mass. Then a hand was covering my mouth.“Shh! He'll hear you,” a familiar voice commanded.I opened my eyes, and the whole scene had changed. The floor was still and clean, and there was a little girl kneeling in front of me. Her hair was tangled and dirty, but clearly blonde. Her face was pale, a scar on her upper lip. Her eyes were dark.“Mary?” I whimpered.She nodded.“You left me,” she spoke, softly. “I'm angry at you for leaving me.”I felt tears forming in my eyes.“I'm sorry, Mary,” I whispered shakily, “My parents moved us. I was too little to come back on my own.”She worried her lip for a moment, looking around. Another flash of lightning, and for a moment her face appeared skeletal, but then thunder crashed and she was back to normal.“I'll forgive you on one condition,” she finally offered, giving me a firm look. It was vaguely comical on such a young face.“What?” I asked. It's funny how you don't question as much when you're dreaming.“Find me,” she begged.And then, as lightning flashed again, I woke up.It was raining. There must have been a thunderstorm while I slept that bled into my dream, but it had calmed to a gentle but steady downpour now.There were two muddy footprints beside my bed.I cleaned that day, starting with the footprints then the other two bedrooms. I slept in my mom's childhood room, not quite comfortable with the master yet. That was still my grandma's room to me. Grandpa had been dead for much longer than Grandma, so it was easier to use things that belonged to him, but Grandma's passing was still too fresh. Maybe I'd move into her bedroom later. When it wasn't so raw.I cleaned her room though, removing the dust that had settled there after her passing. I cleaned my uncle's childhood room too, preparing it for him.I'd woken up so early that I was done with all of that before lunch. I spent an hour baking some cookies for the neighbors, something to ease the way for the questions I was going to ask them that day.It finally stopped raining around one in the afternoon, and I walked with my dish of plastic wrapped cookies the short trip down the road to their quaint little farmhouse. I knocked on their door, hoping they were home.The woman was. It wasn't the season for farming, so her husband was working in the town. Her name was Catherine.I greeted her warmly.“Hi, I'm your new-ish neighbor. My grandma owned the house down the road.”She smiled at me, delighted to finally meet the grandchild of her neighbor. I got the impression that they had been friendly. I was quickly invited inside.She took the cookies, promising to return the dish to me when they were gone.“Oh, no worries!” I assured her, smiling.I didn't dive straight into the questioning, I knew better than to be so direct. We chatted for a bit, talking about the house and my grandparents. I asked a few easy questions about their farm.Then, I introduced my carefully worded opening sentence.“It was always kind of lonely here when I was little. There were no other kids my age, you know. I even made up an imaginary friend.”Her face changed a bit, her smile shifting to something sadder. Still a smile, but the kind of smile reserved for sad things.“Ah, yes. I remember seeing you play in our field from time to time. My husband wanted to shoo you off but I just didn't have the heart to. You reminded me of my daughter.”I tried not to visibly perk up, masking my eagerness with a curious look.“You have a daughter?” I asked, hoping I wasn't crossing a line.“Had, I'm afraid.” she said after a bit of a pause. “She... went missing many years ago. Her name was Mary.”I hid my expression by covering my mouth, though I didn't have to. I wasn't happy to have confirmation that Mary was real. Part of me had hoped maybe I was just going insane. It would've been easier to deal with, I think. There's treatment for insanity.I offered my condolences, but she waved me off.“It was a long time ago. We just wish... we wish we had some kind of confirmation, you know? A body to bury. We'd be able to move on if we had that.”She stood then, asking politely that I wait there, and she left the room. I heard a cabinet open and close, and a minute later she entered the room with a thick photo album.“We bought this the day she was born. It's all we have left of her now,” she said, setting the book on the table.She turned through it slowly, showing me Mary's baby pictures, her first steps, bath time photos. The album ended with a school picture. A little girl with blonde hair and dark eyes, a small scar on her upper lip.I shivered, biting my lip.I wasn't sure what to say, but her husband came home then, and the conversation came to a quick end. I greeted him quickly, explained that I'd just come to drop off some cookies and we'd gotten caught up in the past, and then I headed home.That confirmed it. The Mary haunting me had existed. But what had happened to her?I went into town that evening, to get some more groceries. Now that I was mostly unpacked I had room in my kitchen for some food. I also bought a carryout order of Chinese food, since I didn't feel like cooking that night. I suspected my uncle would expect me to cook for him his entire visit. He was that sort of man.I didn't have cable or satellite TV yet, so I booted up my laptop and watched Netflix while I ate. I lost track of time. It was nearly midnight when I heard a thud from my grandma's room upstairs.I set my laptop and Chinese aside, walking up the stairs. The door to her room was open, though I was sure I'd closed it when I left. I flicked on the lights as I walked in, but nothing happened. Shot bulb.“Mary?” I called.I wasn't afraid, exactly. She'd only hurt me while I slept, I doubted she could do much to me while I was awake.I had my phone out, shining the flashlight around, but the room was empty. A book had fallen off one of the shelves.A sudden curiosity overtook me, so I zoomed in on the empty shelf and took a picture. Then, without looking at the image, I pocketed my phone and approached the shelf. I picked up the book, but noticed something strange. Something slightly off about the floorboards.I shined my phones flashlight under the shelf and furrowed my brow.Under the shelf, most of the boards were caked in years worth of dust. Except for one.It was dusty, sure, but only a few months worth. About as long as Grandma had been dead.Curiosity got the better of me once again and I reached under, running my nails along the seam of the less dusty board. Sure enough, with a gentle jerk, the board popped right off. I reached my hand inside, feeling something firm wrapped in cloth. I pulled the object out.It was heavy, like metal, and wrapped in a baby blanket. I unwrapped it slowly and nearly dropped it when I realized what it was.It was a gun.Now, I know how to use a gun, my dad taught me when I was eighteen and going off to college. But I'd never owned one. I just didn't really care for them.But my Grandma, apparently, had. It looked well cared for too.I reached back into the hole in the floor, checking for ammunition, and sure enough there was a small box of bullets.I took the gun and bullets back to my room, shutting the door behind me. I wasn't sure on the type of gun, but it was definitely a pistol. I know how to shoot one, but that's about as far as my gun knowledge goes. My dad would know more. Hell, he probably bought her the thing.I don't know why but I loaded the gun and put it in my nightstand. I had a growing sense of unease, and for the first time since I've moved in it wasn't related to Mary.​I looked at the picture before bed, I'll link it here. The hand wasn't there when I snapped the photo.I experienced sleep paralysis again that night, but it wasn't the same as before. I woke around three in the morning to a weight settling on the bed beside me. Little arms wrapped around my waist.“I miss being warm. It's so cold here,” she whispered.I closed my eyes with a small hum, the only sound I could manage in the strange in between state I was in. Partially asleep, partially awake.“Please don't die before you find me.” She mumbled.That concerned me. Was I in danger? From who? I struggled to shift but to no avail. I sighed a bit.What did she know that she wasn't telling me? Why did this house feel so unsafe all of a sudden? Was her fear bleeding over into me?She stayed an hour that night before fading away. I drifted off before the sun rose.My uncle arrived this morning. He's getting up there in years, but still working hard at his job. A lawyer.He gave me a stiff, one armed hug and I offered to take one of his suitcases. Together we headed up to his room, and after setting down his bag I left him to get settled while I cooked some breakfast.We had biscuits and gravy, and it was probably the least comfortable meal I've ever eaten in this house. He didn't speak a word to me, just ate his food while reading over the paper. The atmosphere of the kitchen felt off with him in it, and I tried to resign myself to living an entire week like this.He went into town after we ate and I settled in for another day of surfing the internet. I'm a full time, online student, by the way, but I'm on break right now.I'm pretty sure my uncle resents me for getting the house instead of one of his kids. They're both older than me, one of them already married with kids. He probably thinks they deserve it more. He always had a problem with me, ever since I was little. He thought I was spoiled.Anyway, as soon as he left the activity started up again. Little things. I heard doors opening and closing, footsteps running down the hallways. I'm already learning to ignore it. I'm not sure that's healthy.The day was calm, apart from that. I watched a few movies, read some, browsed a bit of reddit. Around seven, I heard my uncle pull into the driveway. As soon as he slid the spare key into the lock, the footsteps upstairs stopped.I'm beginning to add some things together. About Mary. And my uncle. I did the math, he'd have been thirteen when she disappeared. They were neighbors.I'm glad I kept that gun. I don't trust my uncle. I'm not sure what to do from here, though. I can't go to the cops on pure suspicion alone. I need proof.But it's getting late. I'll update as things develop via /r/nosleep