#i feel like i dug a grave for myself here and its been like 13 years in the making you know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashes-in-a-jar · 3 years

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Tma relisten Episodes 11-15

So this round already has two other posts out of it about Oliver because he Bae.

These have alot of ideas regarding entities changing around reality, controlling non victims to set the stage, and turning around what people love most to their worst fear. Also insane abilities of the crew to obtain hard to access info and evidence! And some more Jon sass. Enjoy!

11 dreamer

Wow this episode had alot. I made a separate post with a theory about Oliver's statement here and a realization regarding him and Jane Prentiss here. They are alot to unpack

Oliver is so. Freaking. Relatable! Learned economics and hated it. Nearly had a breakdown like him because of it. "going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans." yep. That.

Boyfriend Graham ey? You notebook eating Graham?? Wow that guy is full of surprises.

I love the dream sequences and their descriptions it's a really beautiful thing to try and picture.

Its interesting how he went from passive to desparate to passive again about death. He tries but can't help. I wonder when the dreams started to bother him so much he sought after the silence of point Nemo. Was it when they became so full of red because of the apocalypse coming closer? Hmmm

Another person named John. I guess that makes sense it's a common name. But I forgot how many people are fully named in this podcast. Hundreds of names to come up with! Jonny I'm quite impressed!

He worked with Jane Prentiss in the magic shop! I can't believe I forgot about that! Wow small avatar world indeed.

"It led me to a room, the label of which was still visible, and read “Archive”. I entered to see walls covered with shelves and cabinets stretching off into the distance. These shelves were coated in a sticky black tar, which I knew at that moment was the thickened, pulpy blood that pumped through each and every one of those veins." everything that has to do with the Fears I bet. Full of death and destruction and stolen from the veins to be out on display for the Eye's pleasure.

Yo Jon is scared of this he's seriously considering going to Elias for advice

" I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke" wait. He trusts TIM? Not to do a practical joke? How. Why. Eh?

"died in the line of duty" fuck you Jonah.

Now Jon will get every new statement immediately when it's made. Perhaps this was Elias' intention all along. To scare him into making sure he does not miss any paranormal activity recorded by the institute.

12 first aid

I'm not immune to more Gerry badassery, hell yeah

And we get polish Martin which hell yeah! Even if Jon doesn't believe it. I'm sure he's repressing the fact that he's thoroughly impressed.

I think it's really interesting the effect entities have on people who are decidedly not their victims. Everyone leaving no questions so the entity can set the scene for the scare. Like with Gillespie how no one lived in the apartment building he was in etc. Alot of work into a handful of people being genuinely scared.

Gerry's burns stopped at the neck? How did he manage that. Also it's hilarious to imagine that he's like "yes burn all of me but please. not my goth makeup"

Zippo lighter with eye design!! And Jon has web design! They are brothers (joke but still really interesting)

Liquids were boiling around her and she didn't feel the heat. Also an interesting effect just for the scare.

Gerry got eye superpowers like Jon if he can function while injure and filled with painkillers.

“Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.” Gerry knew she'd be haunted by a Fear from that day on and realised that perhaps being watched would be easier for her specifically to deal with than the Desolation. I guess that's a way of assessing people. Which fear would least bother you.

Jon is already enamoured with Gerry you can tell. He can't wait to hear more from him. Just you wait Jon.

They really can access alot of information huh. CCTV Interviews files. Pretty impressive for a non-research team. They're so good at it they'd rather do that than actual archiving.

13 alone

The sound editing in this episode is not that great it was a bit to get used to.

We get a glimpse at the Lukases which is... Ugh

Jon is actually trying to be nice. Granted it's not working and she is a bit of a standoffish person herself who just went through a bad time but alot of her reactions are not his fault. He was trying to be considerate giving her space to record but he did stay when she asked.

She had already leaned into the Lonely before the incident it's interesting to see how some of these statements start with a person actually liking the aspect that later turns to fear. Same happens in lost johns' cave.

Evan Lukas sounds like an avatar of the exact opposite of the Lonely. At least to her. That's a really interesting effect from someone, especially a Lukas.

But maybe dying wasn't his family killing him but him not feeding his patron which he tried to leave. Really tragic.

She was in Martin's domain eyyy!

It's got a bit of buried aspects to it with the grave stuff and all.

"My fingers dug into the soft cemetery dirt as I looked around desperately for anything I could use to save myself, and my hand closed upon that heavy piece of headstone. It took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor, as I slowly dragged myself away from the edge of my lonely grave." The headstone was her anchor? But it said forgotten. I wonder how it helped her pull away. It probably had to go together with Evan's voice. Like the rib and the tape recorders having to work together! I just wonder what meaning the stone had for her.

"I’d be tempted to chalk this one up to a hallucination from stress and trauma, if it wasn’t for the fact... " God he does believe her heavens. He's not a skeptic!

This is when Jon's dreams start which... Good luck Jon.

14 piecemeal

Rentoul is terrifying sonofabitch and I would never want to meet him irl

I remembered them talking about how he was supposed to be a person who cursed alot and they couldn't do it because of sensor and I have to agree this could have been much better for the story. I tried imagining curses in some places.

LOL Jon reading this is funny. Trying to voice act the bad boy. Doesn't sound right on his voice.

With these kinds of statements happening alot where the person does something bad, the institute has to be in touch with police over them. The nda has to include that.

Hello Angela! I really wonder what her deal is. She scared the bid bully so she gotta have creepy vibes to the extreme.

Another lighter! Hmm do I have to start following the lighter motiff in this podcast. This one has a topless woman on it. Flesh lighter?

Salesa's also appearing that's cool! Noriega was probably looking for an artifact to reverse the curse. Didn't work tho since they left with the crate. The buried crate perhaps?

I'm wondering. Was this written? Because the statement sounds like he's talking. If so, Where's the recording?

Oh Jon your attitude towards Martin is so bad. He works so hard and it's not even in what he's good at, sorting and filing like he knows how to do from the library. God.

What's the deal with all the furniture gone? Did he think it'll help not get injured? He's not that smart if he thought that would help him.

15 lost Johns' cave

Ack a bad statement she was not a good person all around

Another example of the entities setting the stage by controlling others not to interfere with the victim's experience.

Also another example of the person liking the subject (cave exploration in this case. And the dark for that matter) only for it to turn against them.

Not much to say about this one other than its one of the scarier ones for sure. And her recording in the end is really the cherry on top. There is alot of discrepancy between what she believed happened and what actually did which shows how much the fear plays with and changes around reality. That's also how she manages to lie in a statement to Beholding. It wasn't a lie. It was her version of reality and she did not remember saying those awful words.

Taught me alot about cave diving and how much I will never do it in my life.

The Dark was mixed into this as well so it wasn't purely Buried.

Btw Where did she get the candles she was found with?

It feels like she made a choice. Didn't want to spend her last moments with her sister and then didn't want to die. She chose her sister to be taken over her. Her sister called for help and the candle coming closer might have been her! But she just shut her eyes.

How did Tim gain access to the recording?? Wow that's some prime evidence.

Martin is claustrophobic amongst other things huh? Live how Jon just dismisses this as an excuse not to work. At least he didn't push it.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #Tim stoker #Oliver banks #Tma hiatus liveblog #gerry keay

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army-author · 5 years

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jungkook scenario | gamomania

gamomania /ɡæmə(ʊ)ˈmeɪnɪə/ noun. 1) a form of mania characterised by strange and extravagant proposals of marriage. 2) an excessive longing for the married state.

❝ Your best friend has been proposing to you since preschool. Granted, he didn’t know what marriage meant at age four. But he certainly knows what it means now... ❞

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ word count: 6.2k

➝ genre: fluff, mild angst, childhood friends au

➝ warnings: implied/light smut, swearing, an excessive amount of marriage proposals, tooth-rooting sweetness

➝ author’s note: I’m a sucker for childhood friends aus. so here’s another one. surprise! hopefully you all enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[22 years ago: age 4]

“Marry me!”

You look up from the sand pit, squinting past the sunshine, and find a young boy standing over you. He’s small for his age, with black hair matted across his forehead, damp with sweat. His knees are scraped, and a plaster is peeling off his cheek, but he’s triumphant, with his fingers wrapped around a golden ring.

You recognise the ring before you recognise him.

It’s the ring from the tree at the bottom of the playground. One day a group of your preschool friends discovered it while making mud pies in the dampest corner. It was caught around a bent twig. None of you knew how it got up in the tree, but that didn’t stop your imaginations. Some said a dragon dropped it while carrying treasure back to its nest, others said a wizard left it there to test anyone brave enough to climb up to retrieve it, and still others said an alien deposited it there, and one day tiny alien babies were going to pop out from it and take over the Earth.

Your best friend said it got there after a marriage proposal went horribly wrong and a woman threw it there in anger, screaming at her soon to be ex, “No. Absolutely not! Not after that!” At least that’s what your best friend’s mum said, and you trusted the authority of a grown-up. Even if you didn’t know what that was.

But now, the ring is no longer stuck in the tree, becoming a part of the bark as the branches grow around it. Instead, it’s in this boy’s hand. A boy, who, after a few more moments of squinting, you recognise to be Jeon Jungkook. He goes to your preschool, but you’ve never talked to him because you’re convinced he has boy germs.

He rubs his nose, and rubs in a spot of dirt. In case you hadn’t heard him the first time, he repeats it again. “Marry me?”

You don’t know what he’s talking about, but his words jerk you to your feet, out of the sand pit, kicking over the sandcastle you were working on. “What are you talking about?”

“Marriage!” Jungkook grins, “My mum says that when a boy likes a girl he gets her a ring and asks her to marry him, and I like you and want you to be my friend so: marry me!” He thrusts the ring in your direction. It glitters prettily between his rough fingers, with his nails chewed to shreds.

“That’s not how it works,” you shake your head, “Marriage is only for grown-ups. That’s what I heard.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jungkook cocks his head, confused, and takes a step closer, his hand still outstretched.

His clothes look grubby, and his hands are mud-stained. If he touched you he’d get dirt on your shirt. You take a step back, wrinkling your brow.

“Please?” he asks, “I climbed all the way up that tree to get you this ring and everything. I even cut myself doing it, look!” He pulls up his shirt, to show you a gash on his stomach, where the branches dug into him. He seems proud of the mark, cooing, “Cool! It’s still bleeding.”

You think it’s gross. Another reason to avoid boys.

“So, well?” He grins back up at you, dropping his shirt over his war wounds, “What do you say? Will you marry me?”

You reply with the only answer you know in this situation: “No! Absolutely not! Not after that!” That feels grown up to say, even if you don’t know what it means.

As you run away from Jungkook, you hear him call after you, “Why not?”

Your only reason is: “Boy germs!”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[21 years ago: age 5]

“Marry me?” It’s been a year, but Jungkook still has the same brazen smile when you look up to him.

You’re sitting on the grass by the trees at the back of your primary school, with your grey skirt dusty and your white knee socks marked with grass stains. There are tears on your face.

“It’s alright. I’m just joking. You don’t have to marry me.” He smiles at you, but you remain stony faced, and his lips pull down at the corners. “I thought you might be in the mood for a joke.”

You’re not. You shake your head sadly, so he sits down beside you, quiet, and begins shredding grass in his fingers.

“Sorry I don’t have any ring to offer this time,” Jungkook tries another joke, at which you begin sniffling and he begins panicking. “Joking! Joking! Um… look, what I was trying to say is, I don’t have a ring, but I do have these,” he digs deep in the pocket of his trousers, and pulls out an almost empty bag of sweets. There are only a few lonely gummy bears at the bottom. He extends them to you.

You blink, tears trembling at your lashes as a reminder of the cry you were having before Jungkook interrupted it.

“They’re good,” he insists, “They cure crying and everything.”

You snatch the packet off him. “I’m not crying!”

“No?”

You shake your head in defence, and a few more tears slip free.

“Oh. It looked like you were crying is all.” Jungkook is silent after this, his words leaving your cheeks burning.

You chew defiantly on a gummy bear to relieve yourself of the embarrassment of having been caught crying – and by Jungkook of all people.

His fingers shred through the grass by his feet, leaving the green tatters to dance away on the breeze. You bite off the head of another gummy bear.

Addressing the silence, you announce, “My goldfish died this morning.” You’re not telling this to Jungkook, you’re simply letting the wind know, because you felt like it.

“Ah,” Jungkook nods his head gravely, “I suppose you’ll be having a funeral for it then.”

Your lip wobbles, and Jungkook lifts his hands helplessly, “I mean, that’s what I’d do if I lost a goldfish.”

“My mum had to flush him down the toilet,” you say, “He can’t get buried properly.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “That’s just disrespectful.”

You wipe at your nose. “Isn’t it? I told mum so, but she said it would be gross to bury a dead fish in our backyard.”

“Well,” Jungkook sit up onto his haunches, rubbing his hands on his trousers, “Even if your goldfish can’t get buried properly, we can still have a funeral for him.”

“We can?”

Jungkook stands up, rubbing his hands together, stained green from grass. “Yeah.”

You follow him as well, dusting off the seat of your skirt. You’re sure there will be grass stains there as well, but you don’t care.

“I’ll say a few words for your fish,” Jungkook says, “If you’d like?”

You’re overcome with a warm rush of tears that sting your eyes and nose, and it takes a few swallows to contain them. You nod.

Jungkook clears his throat theatrically. “We are gathered here to remember the wonderful life of…” He looks over to you, realising he doesn’t know the fish’s name.

“Guppy.”

“Of Guppy the Goldfish. He was a wonderful fish, a light to this earth, the best of his kind.” Jungkook bows his head solemnly, and you follow suit, but not without sneaking a few more looks at the boy first, curious at the way his hair falls over his forehead, and the way his dark eyes survey his feet as he searches for more words to say about a fish he never knew. “You will be missed, Guppy,” he goes on, “But we would like to thank you for the joy you brought to this world during your brief life.” He falls silent, and when you look up again, you realise he’s staring at you, expecting you to add to the eulogy.

You open your mouth, searching for words. There’s lots you want to say. Guppy swimming calmly around in his tank was always a sedative when you had woken up from a particularly bad nightmare. You want to thank him for that, but all that comes out is a wobbly, “I miss him.” Then you break into tears.

Your face feels hot, your nose running, and you barely register when Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulders in a half-hug. You lean into the comforting warmth, not caring where it’s coming from, not even caring about boy germs.

That’s how you and Jungkook become friends.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[13 years ago: age 13]

“Marry me?” Jungkook holds up a gummy ring, grinning at you through the small hole of the candy, squishy and transparent.

You’re sitting on the front lawns outside your school on the last day before the summer holidays. An unfinished daisy chain lies abandoned in your lap, as you watch the other boys in your school hollering at each other as they kick a ball about.

By now you’re used to Jungkook’s random marriage proposals, interspersed throughout your day. They’re an inside joke between the two of you, that Jungkook brings up any time the need arises, like when he finds anything ring shaped, or when you walk past the wedding dress shop on your way home from school, and he points out the ugliest one and says, “You’d look great in that one, right?” Sometimes you almost believe he’s asking sincerely.

He’s prepared for your retaliation, giving him a soft punch any time he asks, aimed at any limb in reach. He doesn’t flinch when you do just that; he thrusts the ring towards you, pressing it against your lips so you have no choice but to accept the candy, tasting dully sweet on your tongue. You chew on it with a frown on your face.

“I’m just joking,” Jungkook probes you with his elbow.

You smile around the candy, and elbow him back. “I know. I know.”

“So, what’s with that face?” Jungkook imitates your frown, exaggerated, with his brows lowered outlandishly far down over his eyes.

“Nothing,” you shake off the expression, and push up a smile.

“You can’t ‘nothing’ me,” Jungkook insists, inching closer, “I’ve known you too long. What’s up?”

You pick up your daisy chain, while Jungkook goes back to his bag of sweets, which he seems to have a constant supply of. “Just,” you say, watching one of the flowers fall off your chain.

“Just?”

You work to reattach the daisy to the chain. “Just, you keep on joking about marrying me. It’s confusing.”

“Why is it confusing?” Jungkook’s brows crinkle. This time he’s not mocking you, just not understanding.

You shrug. “Because. I know it’s only a joke. But I don’t like you joking about marrying me… as if… marrying me is gross.”

“But marrying you would be gross,” he says, “You’re my best friend. You’re like family.”

Your face falls into a pout. “Well, maybe gross for you. But… do you think it would be weird for anyone else to want to marry me?” You blush, “Or… well… maybe not marry me, but date me?”

All your other friends seem worried about who’s dating who and who’s got a crush on who. You don’t really understand it, but you want in on this mysterious aspect of mature life. You want your own boyfriend, even if you don’t know what it means to have one. But no boys from your class have thrust the important question upon you: “Will you be my girlfriend?” Naturally, you’re beginning to worry. There must be something wrong with you.

“Oh,” Jungkook pauses, with a gummy bear at his mouth. He chews on his lips instead of the candy, turning his eyes to you, appraising. “Well – uh – I’m sure you’d be a good girlfriend, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re pretty and all. Just, no one’s asked you because they’re shy.”

“You think?”

Jungkook nods. “Sure,” his voice is gruff, “Look, if you’re really upset about it, we could pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“But you said we’d be gross together,” you contradict. It’s a habit of yours to contradict Jungkook.

“I only said it’d be weird if we got married. But we’re talking about dating. And not even proper dating. Just pretend-dating.”

You consider it, but you’re not sure if a pretend-boyfriend will make you feel any better. Still, Jungkook is smiling, pleased with himself as he pops another sweet in his mouth, cheeks ballooning as he chews. “Alright,” you say, and place the daisy chain crown on his head, “I suppose you can be my pretend-boyfriend.”

Jungkook laughs. “I have no idea what pretend-boyfriends are meant to do.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[8 years ago: age 18]

“Marry me?”

“Excuse me?”

Jungkook is kneeling in front of you, on one knee, in the school cafeteria. People are staring.

“Jungkook!” You drag him off the floor by his school blazer, face burning as the rest of your classmates turn to stare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Proposing,” Jungkook jokes, his tone brazen as you drag him out of the cafeteria, with his orange juice carton still in his hand, “Sorry, not proposing. Just asking you to prom.”

“Prom?” You can’t hide the irritation in your voice.

“Why not?” Jungkook asks, as you let go of him by the lockers. He leans against the wall, tilting his head to the side.

“Why? Why?” You repeat the question, as if the answer is obvious, although you can’t find it yourself. You know there are a lot of reasons to say no, if only you could formulate a proper sentence. But all your blood is rushing, confused, around your heart, leaving your head light and oxygen deficient.

Jungkook pokes his tongue past his teeth, pert, “I mean, I am your best friend. And if I don’t ask anyone, then you know Joy will assume I want to go with her. Which I don’t.”

Now it makes sense. Your heart slips down. “I’m just a decoy so Joy won’t pester you? Nice to know how much I mean to my best friend.”

Jungkook holds up his hands. “What’s wrong with that? You were mad when you thought I wanted to ask you to prom. Now you’re mad because I’m not actually asking you to prom.”

“I’m not mad,” you snap.

“You seem it.”

A few deep breaths are required before you reply: “I just don’t like that you asked me to marry you in front of everyone else.” You can already imagine the boys in your History class asking when the engagement party will be, with knowing smiles on their faces.

“It’s just a joke,” Jungkook soothes, pushing himself off the wall to move across to you and lay his hands on your shoulders. The feeling grounds you, dissipating the tension crackling across your muscles. “I thought it’d be a funny way to ask you to prom.”

“Not in front of everyone!”

“Come on,” Jungkook rubs his hands up and down your arms, “Everyone knows we’re best friends. It was funny. You should have seen your face.”

“Maybe a bit funny…” you relent. “But isn’t it weird to go to prom as best friends?”

Jungkook’s brow creases. “No. Lots of people do.”

“I don’t know. This seems a lot like that time in junior high when we pretended to date for a few months.”

Jungkook’s hands fly off you, “Don’t remind me! That didn’t happen!”

Your pretend-relationship hadn’t lasted long, and had involved some dodgy pretend-dates, where the two of you awkwardly acted like complete strangers, until you pretend-broke-up, and things went back to normal.

“It’s nothing like that,” Jungkook insists, “It’s just one best friend asking another to prom. Because it’ll be fun. And besides, no one will ask you if I don’t.”

“That’s harsh,” you grumble.

“Maybe... After all, I’m sure Markus would love to ask you if he could just work up the confidence.”

Your mind flies to the desperate singleton in your Art class, who choses a different girl to obsess over every month. You’re lucky enough to be his chosen target right now. You shudder. “Uh- no thanks.”

Jungkook gives you a smile that says, ‘I thought so’, and it’s decided that you’ll go to prom together.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[7 years ago: age 19]

“Marry me?” The now familiar question comes out slurred this time, as Jungkook’s voice wavers under alcohol’s influence.

It’s your first week at university, and Jungkook has dragged you out to sample the club scene in the new city before work comes to kick you in the stomach.

Somehow, Jungkook’s arm has ended up around your waist, as you both bob to the generic dance music thrumming through the air. You barely hear Jungkook the first time he asks you, but with him hollering over the music, the question becomes apparent. He really is asking you to marry him. After three unfortunate shots, downed in an even more unfortunate drinking game, Jungkook is now hung around you, while you hold him up to support yourself, and laugh into his ear, “Yeah, right, Jungkook. As if.” His jokes of marriage are getting old after so many years.

He’s holding you so tightly, his arm warm on your waist, and you feel yourself melting onto him in the sweat of the club. No air conditioning - another unfortunate occurrence.

His mouth moves; you can’t hear above the music, as the next song comes on, and the girls around you start screaming when they recognise it. You lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, and catch, “I love you, marry me!”

He dissolves into liquid laughter, resting his head against your shoulder, sticking out his tongue past his teeth. You feel his damp forehead against your neck. You don’t mind his sweat mingling with yours. All that is left is your heart beating solid, solitary in a body that’s melted away. Of course, Jungkook has told you that he’s loved you in the past. You’re best friends. You’ve shared every important moment together. It would be odd not to love each other at this point. This “I love you”, however, seems different. The “marry me” suddenly feels uncomfortable. But you don’t mind a little discomfort in a too-hot club, in too-tall high-heels. What is this but another thing you’ll laugh over with Jungkook when you both sober up. You wrap your arms around him tighter, as the rest of the club heaves in waves of human bodies, part music, part muscle, part perspiration. Jungkook’s mouth is warm and wet against your neck as he murmurs something you have no hope of hearing over the music.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[7 years ago: age 19]

“Marry me?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide over his cup of coffee, his voice unusually high. He looks like a wild animal caught in front of a speeding car. “What else did say last night?”

“That’s all,” you answer, “You just asked me to marry you… multiple times.”

It’s the morning after your club experiences, and the two of you have clearer heads, although your heart feels the foggiest it’s ever been. It murmurs beats at irregular rhythms.

“I don’t know why you’re giving me that look, Jungkook,” you chuckle, as you take a sip from your own latte, and nudge his leg under the table, “What’s with the startled bunny face?”

Jungkook presses his lips into a thin line in an attempt to correct his expression. Now he just looks to be in pain.

“It’s not as if you haven’t asked me the same question before,” you continue, “Being drunk doesn’t change it.”

With a nod, Jungkook buries his lips in the froth of his coffee, so he can’t speak.

After a silence between you, hovering out like a taught violin string, he finally breaks it, asking, “You’re sure I didn’t say anything else?”

You mind reaches back to last night. You remember heat, a pounding beat, and a warmth pooling in your heart like the sweat on your neck. There was something else he said. You remember that clearest, but you don’t know if you should mention it. After all, you say it to each other all the time, so there’s no point bringing it up.

“Nope,” you shake your head, and Jungkook’s lids lower. Maybe he’s relieved. For the first time in your life you find it difficult to read him.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “That’s good. I’ve never been that drunk before. Better not tell anyone how badly I handle my liquor, or I’ll kill you.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep a tighter watch on you when we go out,” you joke, “Or you’ll be proposing to every girl you meet.”

Jungkook barks a laugh, just as he raises his coffee to his lips. A few frothy flakes spill over the side of his cup onto his saucer. “Don’t be dumb. You’re the only one I’ll ever propose to.”

“No one else?” you ask, “That’s unfortunate. What about your future girlfriends?”

Jungkook sets down his coffee before he can spill any more. He’s made a pool in his saucer. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know. I know.” What you think will be a reassuring hand reaches across the table to his own.

“Obviously I didn’t mean that,” he mutters, “I’ll propose to my girlfriend. When I have one.”

“And when will that be?” you ask, raising a curious eyebrow.

You get a shrug for an answer. You’ve already talked this over before. He’s told you he’s not interested in dating right now. And you claim you aren’t either.

You wonder how true that is. You pat Jungkook’s hand on the table, “Well, whenever that is, I better be best man at your wedding.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[3 years ago: age 23]

“Marry me? Shit-” Jungkook grapples for his words, “Uh – sorry. I’m so used to asking you that, it just slipped out.” His eyes are wavering as they shift across to yours.

Your first argument. You knew it was bound to happen after nineteen years of knowing him. But that doesn’t make it sting any less, like the taste of shampoo when you open your mouth in the shower.

“Not the time for jokes, Jungkook,” you warn. Weary, you move away from him, and crash onto the sofa in his new house. You can still remember the day you helped him move it in here, manoeuvring it through a too-small door.

“Yeah – shit – yeah,” Jungkook begins pacing, his fingers worrying his fringe. “We just don’t – I’m not good at – I don’t know what to say-” He stops in the middle of the room, hands falling to his sides.

He knows he’s screwed up. Quite literally. In that he screwed a girl – a mutual friend - and then dropped her, and when she came crying to you, you were irate.

“I’m not used to you not taking my side,” he says in a small voice.

“That’s because I know your side is wrong.” You cross your arms, “You don’t just fuck someone, and then kick them out of your bed and never speak to them again. Well, maybe some people do. But not you. I know you better than that.” A deep sigh creeps up on you, compressing your lungs. “Why, Jungkook?”

He shakes his head, uncertain. “I got desperate.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits, “I think I just wanted to get rid of the label ‘virgin’. Or I was lonely. Or just- I don’t know- basic instincts to populate our species?”

“Well great,” you say, “I hope it felt good. What happened to the boy who wanted his first time to be special?”

“He grew up,” Jungkook says, “And he got fed up of waiting.”

“Yeah, and?” You don’t remember getting on your feet, but you’re if front of Jungkook again, “I’ve been waiting too. For twenty-three years. And still no one wants me. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on what I want.”

Jungkook winces. “Right. I know. I’m awful. You can keep on kicking me if you want.” He looks so defeated under your anger, that it suddenly breaks. you All you want is to tell him it’s okay, you understand his loneliness.

“You didn’t tell me you were feeling like this,” you say in a small voice. “I mean, Jungkook, if you were lonely, you could have just said, and-”

“And what? What could you have helped me with? Finding a girlfriend? Giving me your virginity yourself, becoming a friend with benefits?”

“Best friend with benefits,” you correct, before properly comprehending what you’re saying, and shaking your head. Imaging Jungkook like that, with you, has your stomach jumping in a panic, blood flowing down. “Listen, what I’m saying is, I’m here for you. So don’t think we have to go through adult life alone. I’ve been there for you all through school and uni, so don’t think that just because we’ve got jobs and other lives I’m leaving you now.”

Jungkook releases a breath, and looks to you with soft eyes, glossy like melted chocolate. “Thank you. And sorry. To you. And your friend. Tell her I’m really sorry. I’ll take her out for that coffee I promised if she’s still up for it.”

“I think you missed that boat,” you press gently.

“Yeah, I figured. Worth a shot though,” Jungkook jokes, and everything feels normal again.

You’ve survived your first quarrel. As Jungkook wraps you up in a tight hug, surrounding you in the familiar scent of his fabric softener, and a hint of his deodorant masking his musk, he murmurs, “See, this is why you’re the only one I want to marry. You know me better than my future wife ever will.”

Against his shirt, you smile.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[2 years ago: age 24]

“Marry me?”

You glance up from your book, sprawled across Jungkook’s couch while he plays video games, lying on his floor. Except he’s paused his game now, and is staring at you, serious, waiting for an answer to his question.

“What?” It’s been a long time since you last heard that joke.

“I mean it,” his face is resolute, lips set firmly, “Look, we’re not getting any younger, and neither of us have had any serious relationships. And we get on well. So why not?”

You’re not sure if you should laugh. “Jungkook…”

“Obviously not immediately,” he says, “But, like, if you’re still single at thirty, and I’m still single at thirty… then, why not?”

You set your book down, sitting up and crossing your legs. “So… I’m just a second option, huh?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Jungkook gets up, and sits down next to you on the couch. “Come on, you know you’re more special to me than that. Obviously you’re my first option, you’re always first option,” he blurts out, “But you’ve never shown interest in me… so… I guess I’m your second option?”

His words go around your brain, scattered and flapping, unable to settle.

“I mean, I’ve been asking you to marry me since I was four,” Jungkook goes on. He’s rambling now. “How can you say you’re anything but first option?”

“I- uh – thought you were joking.”

“Maybe I was at first,” he says, “But as we went on, I kept on thinking, ‘Damn, this is the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with’. But you never reciprocated, which is fine, by the way. I’ve accepted that.”

You chew on your bottom lip, “What exactly are you saying, Jungkook?”

His eyes roll up to the ceiling. “Haven’t I spelled it out clearly enough. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Say what out loud?” You know, but you need to hear it.

“I love you.”

There it is. What you’d expected it to be, bright words you can’t ignore. You don’t know how to feel.

There’s a rush of pleasure at the idea of being loved. And then there’s a rush of confusion, fear, uncertainty. This is a whole new way of thinking about your best friend. “Sorry, Jungkook…”

He winces. “Well, I knew this was coming.”

You catch the edge of his shirt sleeve, fingers just above his skin. “No, wait – I’m not rejecting you.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I’m not. I’m just not sure. I’ve spent so long making myself think of you as my best friend, and nothing more. I need a while to think things over, let myself actually consider you as anything else, without forcing us to be platonic, know what I mean?”

He considers this. “I think I know. And that’s okay.”

You press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. I’ll let you know when I know myself.”

He nods, face reddening, blooming out from the spot you kissed.

The thought of loving him didn’t feel as odd as you expected. In fact, it’s quite natural, embedded deep inside you already, a natural rhythm like sleeping, waking up, eating. After all, your relationship began with the joke of marriage. Maybe love is the natural conclusion.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[2 years ago: age 24]

“Marry me?” This time you’re asking the question.

Jungkook stares at you, mouth hanging open. He’s still in his pyjamas, shivering in his doorway, as you stand on his step, smile on your flushed face, your chest heaving. You’ve just run down the five streets between your houses, because you woke up and knew your answer, knew it as deeply and naturally as the endings of your nerves below your skin. You’ve been suppressing your feelings for so long, refusing to recognise them as anything more than friendly affection. It’s nice to let your mind loose. It frees you to go racing through streets at eight in the morning, grinning at the post man as you pass.

“Well, I mean, go out with me first,” you continue, catching your breath, “But, you know, eventually, marry me?”

Jungkook’s furrowed brow spells confusion.

You elaborate. “I love you, Jungkook. I think I have for a while. But I’m an idiot. And I sometimes I can’t tell the difference between wanting to kiss you, and wanting to kiss you as a friend.”

“I don’t think ‘kissing as a friend’ is a thing,” Jungkook smiles.

“Exactly,” you say, “Like I said, I’m an idiot.”

“No more than me,” Jungkook’s eyes dance over yours, “I shouldn’t have left it this long to tell you how I feel.”

“And I shouldn’t have left it this long to understand my own heart.”

“And you shouldn’t have left it this long to kiss me.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me do everything myself,” Jungkook quirks a smile as he steps forward, bare feet on the step. Then he leans down and kisses you. In full view of his neighbour, leaving their house, thermos in hand. You don’t care.

All you care for is his mouth, soft against yours, and so warm, tasting of him. You move awkwardly against him, unaccustomed to his rhythms, until his tongue gently presses your lips open, and then your inelegance doesn’t matter anymore, because it feels too nice to feel awkward. As he pulls away, you hum under your breath. “That was nice.”

“We can certainly do more of that.”

“I’d like that.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[2 years ago: age 24]

“Marry me!” It slips from Jungkook’s lips just as he climaxes, flushed and breathless against you. You would laugh at him for reaching for his favourite question just as he’s finishing, but you don’t have the time, as, feeling him against you, seeing his face, his chest pink from his exertions, you can’t hold back either, as your toes curl, and with a crescendo of moans you finish too.

“Woah,” Jungkook laughs, flopping down onto you as you recover your breath, “You enjoyed that, huh? Maybe I should ask you to marry me more often when we have sex.”

You make an empty attempt to push him off you, but your muscles feel weak – and besides, you don’t want him off any time soon – “Oh, shut up.”

Jungkook’s laughter is warm on your bare skin. “Okay, okay. But I know you like it – the idea of us marrying. You like it almost as much as when I talk dirty for you.”

“I’d be inclined to say I like it more,” you chuckle.

“One day,” he promises, “One day I’ll ask you, and it’ll be for real.”

“It better not be while we’re having sex,” you retort, “I want a nice story we can tell our kids… and how you asked just now was definitely not be PG!”

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook laughs, “When I do ask, it’ll be cute. I’ll make it so you can’t resist saying yes.”

“No matter how you ask it, you know I’ll always say yes.”

Jungkook buries his nose in your neck, planting kisses where he can reach. “I’m so lucky,” he breathes.

You card your hand through his hair, “I’m luckier than you. I have the most amazing boyfriend.”

“Well, I have the most amazing girlfriend, so there.” Before you can argue more about how wonderful your boyfriend is, he buries you mouth in kisses.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[1 year ago: age 26]

“So… when do you actually want to get married?”

You and Jungkook are sitting over empty plates after dinner. A bottle of wine sits open between you.

Jungkook’s brows raise as he waits for you to respond to his question.

You lean over the table to reach for his hand, rubbing at his knuckles, “You know I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

“So any time will be perfect for me. I just want to be your wife.”

Jungkook hums happily. “Wife. That sounds nice.”

“Husband sounds pretty nice too,” your finger moves in circles against his skin, and he smiles down at the table.

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” His dark eyes look up to you, “Well, what do you think? Will you?”

“Of course I will, Jungkook,” you say, “Although this better not be the proper proposal or else I’ll be disappointed. I’m expecting something a lot more fancy from you.”

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook presses back on your hand, threading his fingers around yours, so you fit nicely in his grooves, “I’ve got something a bit more special in mind. I just… wanted to double check before I went through with buying you a ring and stuff. Just in case.”

“In case what? I changed my mind? Fell out of love with you? Jungkook, I’m more likely to grow a second head.”

“I know,” his eyelids lower, his pupils dilated as he gazes at you, “I just – having to ask you for real is stressful. I don’t even know why I’m so nervous.”

You get up out of your seat, and move around the small table to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Well, I promise you have nothing to worry about. I’m going to be your wife. And if you get too nervous to ask, then tough, because I’ll ask you instead. You’re not getting out of wedding me.”

Jungkook laughs. “Guess I’d better hurry up and ask then.” He twists his head to reach for your lips just as you lean in to kiss his neck, and kiss his mouth instead. A very welcome surprise.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[present: age 26]

“Marry me?” This time it’s for real, Jungkook bent down on one knee, with a diamond ring glittering in the box in front of you.

The other customers in the restaurant are turning around to stare, but you don’t care.

Only Jungkook matters, his eyes sparkling more than the ring he holds. “I know it’s taken a lot for us to finally get to this stage,” he says, “And maybe I should have asked you seriously earlier. But I’m glad things happened the way they did, because not only do I get the privilege of asking my beautiful girlfriend to be my wife, I also get to ask my best friend to be my wife.”

“Are you going to keep on rambling?” you ask, “Or are you going to put the ring on my finger already?”

Jungkook’s eyes spark. “So that’s a yes?”

“Yes! Yes, of course it’s a yes, you idiot,” you sputter. Your eyes feel warm, stinging with tears, but you refuse to mess up your mascara, “Now hurry up and stop being sappy, before I cry.”

You still cry a lot when he puts the ring on, and the customers around you begin clapping. You collapse against him, as he sweeps you up in a hug, your feet lifting off the ground.

That’s how, after twenty-two years of pretend proposals, Jungkook finally proposes for real. Now, when your future children ask how their dad proposed to their mum, you can embarrass Jungkook with the story of when you were four years old, and with grubby hands and knees, he held out a ring to you in the sandpit, and demanded you marry him.

- END -

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dirtymikekidd · 3 years

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I’m a miserable f*ck

This is going to be the place where I write down how the day’s events have effected my interpersonal feelings. This first post will be a lot of random stories from my life that I feel like have shaped how I look at life.

I’m setting a course to change my outlook on my life. There has been many things that I’ve not been able to let go of. Most of them are little things that really shouldn’t bother me let alone still be thinking about years later. Hell I still think back to when I was in 8th grade. I was on my way to my history class. There was a girl that I had the hots for at her locker, which was right next to the class I was running late for. I decided to make a joke about a haircut that I had seen to her. you know, trying to break the ice. It kind of worked. She hadn’t ever given me the time of day. But I managed to make her laugh. The tardy bell rings, and I got into class. I only had a few seconds of feeling on top before the teacher, Mr. H., made a comment to me, which killed my feelings of elation. It was something along the lines of “Don’t even try, she’s way out of your league.”

It was one of the only times I’ve ever put myself out there like that. It felt like a huge slap in the face. I was 13 when that happened. I’m 27 now. Anyway, I’m getting a little off topic. I don’t expect anyone to read what I type here. I just know that it’s making things worse by keeping everything bottled up.

Let me start off by saying, I’ve gone through things that I can only hope that my children don’t ever have to go through. Growing up I became my family’s mortician. Not because we were intentionally killing any animals, but because I lived on a farm and you know, diseases and wild predators. Either way I’ve buried 1 dog, 3 cats, 3 sheep, a stillborn foal (baby horse), and roughly 10 chickens. I do think dealing with all of it as often as I did, has made me numb to death.

I was around 9 when I dug my first grave. It was for our dog, Auggie. he was a fat golden retriever. Like fat enough to get the nickname of “the coffee table”. You could put a cut of water on his back and it wouldn’t spill. He ended up being put down by gun... He either had a seizure or was electrocuted (because he used to lay up under our Christmas tree). Anyway so something snapped and he suddenly didn’t know who we were. He was growling and barking at my sister and me. My mom let him outside. Normally we wouldn’t put him on a chain or in a fenced in area because we lived in the middle of no where, and he wasn’t one to run off. This time he did. We found him at our closest neighbor’s house, roughly a quarter to a half mile from our house. Mom brought him home and put him in one of the spare horse stalls that we had. I overheard my mom and dad talking about how they weren’t sure what to do with him, as they were worried what he might do to me and my sister, or what he’d do to the other animals. It was decided it was his time. My dad asked me to go outside and dig a hole. But not by any barn openings or where water ran off. So I dug a hole. 4ft long, 3 ft wide, and about 3 ft deep. I went back in after it was dug, and my mom told me to stay in the house and don’t look outside until she came back in. She went outside carrying a .22g pistol. I knew what was about to happen. and even though she told me not to look outside, I still did. 2 shots rang out, Auggie dropped into the hole I had just dug not even 20 minutes before. A moment later another 2 shots rang. I didn’t know why it took 4 shots until I overheard my parents talking about it. Apparently Auggie was fat enough that the first couple bullets didn’t actually kill him. And when he dropped into the hole, he was crying in agony. The second 2 shots ended his suffering. He was my best friend growing up. And I hate that his life ended that way. I don’t hold any of it against my parents. I know they were trying to protect their family unit. I still think about him to this day.

The cats were inside/outside cats. Or as my dad called them, barn cats. In the 14 years we lived on the farm, we had at least 20 cats. Most of them were either hit by cars or another animal killed them. We had one cat, Thomas, who had just showed up one day. He looked just like Garfield. He had a huge gash on his front leg and a bowel blockage. Mom talked my dad into taking him to the vet. We got him all fixed up and basically adopted him. He became a mostly indoor cat, but he would still get let outside. He never took off anywhere. He would just kinda hang out in the barns hunting mice or laying in the sun. One Sunday morning I got up and looked outside. And there he was laying at the end of our driveway...internal organs hanging out. There was a blood trail that looked like he was hit in the middle of the road, then drug off to the side. I buried him right next to Auggie. the other two cats were killed by a dog we had been watching for a family as they went on a missionary trip.

The sheep were for a 4-H project that me and another kid had been working on. Let me rephrase, we were supposed to be working on it together, but he took off and I couldn’t get ahold of him. Anyway, so I don’t actually know what it was that killed them, but some animal had gotten in and ripped up their necks

The stillborn would’ve been the fifth horse born at our house. It was my dad’s dream horse with the color of its’ fur. It holds the record for the biggest sized hole I’ve dug to this day.

The chickens..... that’s a grave I wish I could’ve done differently. They’re the only mass grave I’ve ever dug. Two holes about 3 ft deep and about a foot wide. They didn’t make it through the sickness that most chickens go through in the first year or so of their lives.

Continuing on the subject of death..so back in 2008 my mom was kicked in the chest and arm by one of our horses as we were getting ready to start cleaning stalls. My dad took her to the hospital because they were sure she had a broken rib. She had x-rays done and what they found was worse.. masses in her lungs. The doctors did a full body MRI. Masses in the lungs and a couple more in the brain... cancer... stage IV lung cancer that had spread. We found out on New Year’s day. Within a couple weeks she was starting chemo. By September she had a treatment called “Gamma knife surgery” on the mass on her frontal lobe of her brain. They continued the chemo on her lungs, and things seemed to be going into remission. Her battle finally ended at 10;45pm on June 5th, 2010.... I wasn’t home when it happened. I was 2 towns over celebrating my best friend’s 16th birthday...I still haven’t been able to forgive myself for not being there...

I’m not sharing these details because I want sympathy. But because I’m stuck living in the past and I’ve never been able to get out of my own head. As the title says, I’m a miserable fuck because of it.

The next post will job stuff..

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leftmyheartinyokohama · 3 years

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In 2015, I went to Yokohama for 6 months. Best time of my life. I’m far from Japanese, but it felt like I’d finally found home. My mom was a “Navy brat” in Yokohama, and there’s a sculpture in Yamashita Koen not too far from Chinatown that celebrates The Friendship between American and Japanese Girlscouts, and that’s there because of my Grandmama. It’s why I chose Yokohama (it was Yokohama or Hakodate, I prefer the cold). I love Japan wholeheartedly, and Yokohama is one of the places my mom was a child. I’m not Japanese, but my family has history there. I’d also lost my Grandmama a few years previously, so I would often go visit that sculpture after language school like I was visiting her. It was a sculpture, not a grave, but...she was the reason it was there. So it was like a small piece of her, even though her name was nowhere on it.

The reason I left Japan was because I’d bitten off more than I could chew. Lots of people move independently to Japan at 24 and do quite well for themselves, but I wasn’t developed enough. I didn’t know how to function on my own, be an independent adult at 24. I didn’t know what to do, I ran out of money and I essentially shut down. Not knowing what to do, where else to turn, I turned to my mom, and she brought me back to america, she asked me what I wanted to learn. I wanted to learn how to be a grownup.

I have never in my life wanted to grow up. But it’s unavoidable. So I needed to learn. It’s how I failed, so I needed to learn how to not fail again.

But Yokohama still has my heart. I left it there, in all the beauty, graciousness and the first place in the world, in my entire life, where I felt I was heard. I’m autistic, communicating, speaking to others is hard. Yet my Japanese friends more often than not knew what I was trying to say before the words even made it out of my mouth. Because half of Japanese is context and body language. All my struggles with commicating? Seemed to vanish like they’d never even been there.

And I fit. Suddenly I felt like I belonged. As an aspergirl, as a person, I’d spent my whole life trying to find my place in the world, and the only time I’d ever felt so accepted before in my life besides my family was Nina.

“Want to be friends?”

“I feel like I should warn you that I have Asperger’s Syndrome. I’m not normal.”

“So what?” And my whole world view shifted.

————0————

Sitting on a train from Narita Airport to Yokohama, absolutely exhausted after my 13-hour journey from London during which I’d barely slept due to the sheer excitement of finally getting to arrive in this country that had turned my depression on its head and made my suicidal daydreams vanish just by watching a Tokusatsu I felt represented by.

Looking out the window as the sun set over the very Japanese countryside and homes speeding past outside and smiling, as the jittery feeling of excitement right over my heart settled back into my chest with something akin to a relieved sigh one heaves when getting into a hot tub or a nice warm bed after a hard day. I love it here, and I hadn’t even really existed there long enough to tell the difference.

————0————

When I came back to america, I’ve never been more frustrated or upset about anything. My communication issues were back, and English is my native language. I liked myself better in Japanese.

Depression set in again, but I had a goal, I was going to fight it. I’m going to get back to Japan. Need to make the money somehow, but I will.

Time passes, worked part time as a concierge in the building I lived in, worked in an Indian-Thai-Nepali fusion restaurant with GLORIOUS food (if you’re ever in downtown Charlottesville, try Himalayan Fusion), both jobs for about a year. Then I got a job in a retirement community in Dining Services, quit the restaurant job- though I came back for a quick stint later- then quit the concierge job when I got sick with a cold and wasn’t getting better. Figured it was due to stress from never having any time off and that I should prioritise the job that pays me more.

I’ve been working at the Retirement Community for the past 4 years. I switched from part-time to full-time two thirds of the way through the first year because I needed the health insurance because I was turning 26 and aging out of my parents’ plan.

My goal was to get back to Japan before I was 30, but life happens. I live in Charlottesville, Virginia. We had the protest/riot that killed Heather one year, then riot police setting up perimeters around where I live on the anniversary the next year. My health went to hell in a hand basket and a mixture of heartbroken depression over Japan and hormones got me weighing something like 311 lbs and seeing a nutritionist. “Biology, not Blameolgy.” Wasn’t sure if he was a psychiatrist on the side or what, but always hearing that, and repeating it back to him always made me feel a lot better. I was 269lbs when I weighed myself this morning. I think I lot of weight loss has to do with choosing happiness, because depression is heavy, y’know? At my lightest, I was 180lbs. 90lbs to go.

Then Corona happened, and I dug my heels in. I’d been doing this job for three years and was feeling hopeless, but one thing I knew for sure- working through a Pandemic? Christmas was going to be good.

I’m 4 years in now. There’s a good handful of residents who can’t wear their masks properly, or always have to be reminded, and I’ve developed a hand sign to communicate ‘mask on properly’ without even having to speak or interrupt anyone’s order. I’m 29 and will be 30 this June. It’s sad, but I’ve accepted the fact that I’m not going to be able to get back to Japan before I’m 30.

I just wish there was something I could do. Something besides just running in this hamster wheel of a job like I have been for the past 4 years. I bought myself an electric bike, and that’s saving me a LOT of money that I’d been spending on Lyfts and Ubers to commute to and from work pre-corona. I’ve been running this blog since... since I was maybe 18? It’s just photos of Japan I’ve reblogged from other people, it’s more a hobby than anything, since I love Japan.

I just...wish there was something more I could do. To be able to get back sooner. Maybe next year, when I’m 30. Hopefully corona’ll be handled by then. I’m already vaccinated, thanks to my job in the retirement community, but I’m treating that like a thin jacket in a winter storm. Masks and hand washing are the proper winter gear in that context.

... I just want to go home.

#home is where the heart is #I left my heart in Yokohama

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idreamofhazeleyes · 5 years

Text

Ties in Blood -- Chapter 33

I had actually left this chapter unended before Nano/November started (and did a drabble before finishing this). Welcome to Season 4. If anyone’s got ideas for the next block of seasons (6-10) to be called, my asks/mail is open.

I’m also in the ... early planning stages of a Star Wars fic plus reworking an original fic.

@percussiongirl2017 @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchestergirl-13 @revwinchester @revwinchester @squirrelnotsam @impala-dreamer

Chapter 33

Aaliyah sat on a motel chair, bloody shirt in hand. She had dug through her bag and was ready to mend up the wound herself, but was overruled by Dean.

“You know I can do this on my own,” she argued even as the sewing needle was stabbed into her skin.

“Don’t care.”

Aaliyah huffed in response and started looking around the room.

“So, what were you doing if you weren’t digging me out of my grave?” Dean asked Sam.

“Well, once I realized I couldn’t save you, I started hunting down Lilith,” Sam answered. “Trying for some payback.”

“By yourself?” Bobby accused.

Aaliyah nudged Dean and motioned to an item. She watched him follow her gesture and went to pick up a bra.

“Sure you were by yourself,” Aaliyah snarked.

Sam coughed, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I was checking demons in Tennessee, and outta nowhere, they made a hard left and booked it here.”

“When?” Dean asked.

“Yesterday morning.”

“When I busted out,” Dean commented.

“And the gas station was on the early evening news,” Aaliyah added.

“You think the demons are here because of you?” Bobby guessed.

“But why?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t know,” Dean said, finishing up stitching Aaliyah’s wound. “Some badass demon drags me out and now this? It’s gotta be connected somehow.”

“This whole thing’s insane,” Aaliyah tossed into the conversation and tested the new stitching. “How you feeling?” she asked Dean.

“Hungry,” he answered. “And don’t ask if I’m feeling unlike myself.”

“Like demonic?”

“Yeah.”

Aaliyah straightened her shirt and stood. “It doesn’t make sense; no demon would let you lose out of whatever good they had. Something’s being planned.”

“I know a psychic,” Bobby said. “Maybe she’s heard something from the other side.”

“Psychic?” Aaliyah asked, skeptical.

“It’s worth a shot,” Dean said.

“Aaliyah,” Bobby called to her, gesturing her to follow.

She followed Bobby out into the hallway, hearing Sam and Dean’s voice behind her in the room. “What’s up?”

“Still giving you the chance to get out of hunting,” he said.

“And I’m still here, just as puzzled as everyone else,” Aaliyah countered. “Now, are we gonna go see this psychic of yours?” She turned at the sound of the door opening, seeing the brothers emerging from the room. Dean had his amulet on.

Aaliyah swore that the air about them buzzed with something she couldn’t put a finger on. It had to do with how Dean was back. That and the burned handprint on his arm.

“She’s about four hours down the interstate,” Bobby told them as they descended the stairs to the parking lot. “Try and keep up.” He climbed into his car.

Aaliyah looked at the brothers before walking over to her motorcycle.

“When did you learn to ride that?” Sam asked.

“A few months ago,” Aaliyah said. “Like you, I’ve been busy the past few months.” She mounted the motorcycle and turned the engine over. “Don’t fall behind, you two.” She put her helmet on; the paint design done in such a way that showed a dragon head with its mouth open in a roar.

She started after Bobby’s car before hearing the familiar rumble of the impala’s engine behind her. Four hours on the open road heading toward a person that could give answers to the questions that ran through her head. Not that she wasn’t happy that Dean was back, it was how he was back. Her mind wandered back to the gas station and how all the windows were blown out. There was no way that a demon could have done that. So what other power could have done that?

Four hours went by with her thoughts going in circles, and Aaliyah couldn’t answer any of them. She pulled up along side Bobby’s car and killed the engine. She shook her head and hair once the helmet was free.

“Nice helmet hair,” Dean shot over at her as he climbed out of the Impala.

“Beauty comes in time, hot shot,” she retorted, running her hands through her hair. She put the helmet on the gas tank before taking the elastic hairband off her wrist and tied her hair back into a simple pony tail. “Let’s go meet Bobby’s friend, huh?” Aaliyah dismounted the motorcycle and followed Bobby up to the door.

Aaliyah took in the woman that opened the door; skinnier than her with brown hair and looks to be in her mid-thirties.

“Bobby,” the woman greeted with a hug that lifted him up a bit off the ground.

Aaliyah glanced over to the brothers and shrugged.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Bobby said in return.

Aaliyah held her ground when the woman pulled away from Bobby and look her and the brothers up and down; as if she was appraising them for something.

“So, these are the Winchesters,” the woman said.

“Sam, Dean, and Aaliyah,” Bobby introduced. “This is Pamela Barnes; best damn psychic in the state.”

Aaliyah heard a hint of flirting in Dean’s voice and an awkwardness in Sam. She met Pamela’s gaze and held it.

“Uh – huh,” Pamela said. “So, Dean Winchester, out of the frying pan and into the fire. Makes you a rare individual.”

“If you say so,” he replied.

Aaliyah followed along when Pamela welcomed them into her house. Nearly every spot Aaliyah could see was filled with tools and other objects that dealt with the occult.

“I Oujia’d my way through a dozen spirits,” Pamela said. “None of them knew who broke your boy out, or why.”

“So, what’s next?” Aaliyah dared to ask, coming up along side Bobby.

“A séance, I think.”

Aaliyah arched an eyebrow. “You think? You know, Bobby, we came for answers, not thoughts.”

“Snappy young woman,” Pamela commented.

“I’m a lot more than ‘snappy’,” Aaliyah retorted. She stopped when Bobby put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not gonna summon the thing here?”

“No. I just want a look at it,” Pamela answered, her attention back on Bobby. “Like a crystal ball without the crystal.”

“I don’t like this,” Aaliyah whispered to Bobby.

“I’m game,” Dean said.

Aaliyah shook her head and turned away while Pamela went about gathering the items needed for the séance. She headed outside and sat on her bike.

“You okay, Kid?” Bobby’s voice called out.

“I don’t about all of this, Bobby. With Dean back, and us not knowing how or who did it …” She looked up to the older hunter. “And Pamela wanting to séance the bugger. I miss the days when it was just demons and ghosts we had to deal with.”

“The world’s changing, and not for the better,” Bobby said. “And I trust Pamela.”

Aaliyah held back a sigh, not wanting to voice her concern about the psychic. Then again, she had been used to being the only woman to be among the seasoned male hunters.

“Bobby,” Sam poked out of the door. “Pamela says she’s ready.”

“Well, Kid,” Bobby called to Aaliyah. “You coming?”

Aaliyah dismounted the cycle and followed Bobby into the house. She took a chair at the séance table and took Dean and Bobby’s hands just as Dean jumped.

“He didn’t touch me there,” Dean argued.

“My mistake,” Pamela said with a flirt in her voice.

Aaliyah glared at the psychic even as Dean stripped off his flannel and rolled up the tee shirt sleeve to bare the burn. She took a deep breath as Pamela started chanting.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me in this circle,” Pamela chanted.

Aaliyah heard the television flick on, static filling the room.

“Castiel?” Pamela questioned; half of her chant cut off. “Sorry, Castiel, I don’t scare easy.”

“Castiel?” Aaliyah asked.

“It’s whispering, warning me to turn back,” Pamela said. “I command and conjure you, show me your face,” she started chanted.

Aaliyah nearly jumped back when the table started shaking and the static continued behind her. “Maybe we should stop.”

“I almost got it,” Pamela argued. “I command you, show me your face.”

When the candle flames leapt several feet, Aaliyah broke her hold on the hands while Pamela started screaming in pain. She shot up out of her chair when white hot flames shot out of Pamela’s eyes.

“Call 911,” Bobby instructed.

Aaliyah hovered behind Dean while he crouched over Pamela and Bobby while Sam’s voice drifted into the room. She looked at Pamela when she opened her eyes, revealing blacked out sockets.

***

Aaliyah sipped at her drink while Dean finished his order to the waitress. “What’d Bobby say?” she asked when Sam joined them.

“Pamela’s stable and out of the ICU,” he said.

“And blind because of us,” Dean said.

“And we still have no clue on who we’re dealing with,” Aaliyah chimed in.

“We got a name,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, Castiel,” Aaliyah said. “What kinda name is that?”

“With the right mumbo jumbo, we can summon him,” Dean pointed out. “Bring him to us.”

“You’re crazy,” Sam said. “Absolutely not.”

“We’ll work him over; after what he did, he owes us,” Dean said.

“Pam took a peek and got her eyes burned out,” Sam argued. “And you want a face to face?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I followed some demons into town, right?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Aaliyah chimed in.

The waitress returned with three plates, each with a slice of pie. Sam thanked her, but she slid into the free chair at the table.

“You angling for a tip?” Aaliyah shot at the waitress.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were looking for us.” Her eyes flicked black.

Aaliyah glanced around the room to see a man in a uniform and a cook behind the counter with black eyes.

“Dean,” the waitress demon said. “To hell and back. Aren’t you a lucky duck?”

“That’s me.”

“So, you get to stroll right out of the pit, huh?” the demon said. “What makes you so special?”

“I like to think it’s because of my perky nipples,” Dean said in a sarcastic manner. “Wasn’t my doing, I don’t know who did.”

“Right, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Lying is a sin, you know,” the demon said.

“I’m not lying,” Dean countered. “But I’d like to find out. So, if you’d like to enlighten me …”

“Mind your tone,” the demon interrupted. “I’ll drag you back myself.”

Aaliyah noticed Sam shift as if he was going to attack the demon, but settled back in his seat when Dean held up a hand.

“No, you won’t,” Aaliyah interjected.

“No?” the demon turned her attention to Aaliyah.

“You woulda done it already if you could,” she continued. “You don’t know who let Dean out just like us. And you’re spooked and looking for answers. Maybe it was some super powered spirit …”

“Or Godzilla,” Dean added.

“Or some big ass demon,” Aaliyah continued. “I’m willing to guess at your pay grade, they don’t tell you shit. Because whoever did manage to pull Dean out, they wanted him out. And they’re stronger than you.” She leaned forward on the table, staring down the demon. “So, go ahead and pull Dean down again. But don’t come back to us when they show up with some Vaseline and a firehose.”

“I’m gonna reach down your throat and rip out your lungs,” the demon threatened.

Dean was quicker than Aaliyah in throwing the first punch. It also didn’t help Aaliyah that she had to leap over the table to get to the demon. He threw another before Aaliyah put a hand to his shoulder.

“Pitiful,” the demon said. “A female hunter letting the men do all the fighting.”

Aaliyah moved around Dean and landed one solid punch to the demon. “I fight my own battles.” She stormed out the door, hearing the footsteps of Sam and Dean behind her.

“That was close,” Dean spoke once they were all outside.

“Are we just gonna leave them in there?” Sam asked, concern in his voice.

“Three of them,” Dean stated.

“Probably more,” Aaliyah added.

“And three of us and one knife,” Dean continued.

“I’ve been killing more demons than that lately,” Sam pointed out.

“Not anymore. The smarter brother’s back in town.”

“Dean, we have to take them.”

“No we don’t,” Aaliyah said.

“And they’re scared,” Dean added. “Scared of what yanked me out. We’re dealing with one bad mofo here. One job at a time.”

***

Aaliyah laid quiet on a bed, lightly snoring in that state of sleeping but being fully able of hearing the noises in the motel room. Noise from the other bed told her that Dean was sleeping. The sound of a door closing softly brought her fully from sleeping. The floor was free of another body and there was no light from the bathroom. Outside came the rumble of the Impala’s engine. Jumping from her bed, Aaliyah put her boots on and grabbed her keys, helmet and jacket at once in her move for the door. She slipped from the room just as Sam pulled out onto the street. In a rush, she mounted her motorcycle, putting on the helmet and jacket before starting the engine. Seconds later, with the jacket zipped up, she raced out onto the street to follow Sam.

Part of her wanted to be surprised when she pulled up near the restaurant diner they were at earlier. Aaliyah killed the engine and watched Sam walk into the diner. She crept over to the building and found the door that Sam had used, sneaking in through the opening. Music drifted from the dining area as she stepped around the dead cook. A grunt from somewhere sent her for a hiding spot behind the counter. Aaliyah dared to look up over the counter top to see Sam fighting the demon waitress.

“Your eyes,” Sam said, shocked.

The demon’s eyes? Had they been burned out like Pamela’s?

“But I can still smell your soul from a mile away.”

“It was here. You saw it.”

Aaliyah heard a sob from the waitress.

“I saw it,” the demon replied.

“What was it?” Sam demanded.

There was no way it could be a demon at this point. Not even Yellow-Eyes had that type of powers. And he was a top level demon.

“It’s the end. We’re dead; we’re all dead.”

“What did you see?” came the insistent question.

“Go to hell,” came the retort.

“Funny.”

Aaliyah swore she heard a smile on Sam’s voice.

“I was about to say the same to you.”

Aaliyah couldn’t see Sam’s face too well in the darkness, but something told her that he was concentrating on something when he raised his hand. She put a hand to her mouth when the demon stared to vomit black smoke. The waitress dropped to the floor after a few seconds. Aaliyah slipped back into the shadow of the counter before trying to move back for the door when footsteps came up behind her.

“Getting pretty slick there, Sam,” came a new female voice. “Better all the time.”

“What’s going on, Ruby?” Sam asked.

“I wish I knew.”

“We’re thinking some high level demon pulled Dean out.”

Aaliyah remained frozen during the conversation, hoping Ruby would move so she could make an attempt to leave.

“Human souls just don’t walk out of Hell and back into their bodies that easy,” Ruby said. “It’s cosmic, Sam. No demon can swing it; not Lilith, not no one.”

“Then what can?”

“Nothing I’ve seen before.”

Aaliyah heard Ruby move away from the door. Right before the demon pulled her from her hiding spot.

“Now, what do we have here?” Ruby asked, turning her head to a side while studying Aaliyah.

Aaliyah glared at Ruby. “Someone itching to make another demon kill.”

“Aaliyah?” Sam called out, slight confusion in his voice.

“You know this dumb little…”

Aaliyah reached out and smacked Ruby before she could finish the sentience. “I was smart enough to nearly get outta here without getting caught.” She stepped back from Ruby and turned to Sam. “I take it that Dean doesn’t know you’re working with a demon. You know he’s gonna be pissed about it.”

“You’re right,” he agreed.

“You gonna tell him?” she asked.

“Maybe I should step back a bit,” Ruby suggested.

“You’re going back to hell,” Aaliyah snapped at the demon.

“Clearly I’m not in your fan club, or Dean’s,” Ruby stated. “But I’m not gonna get between them.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing is right,” Sam said.

“About that.” Aaliyah kept her gaze on Sam. “What the hell was that I saw with the waitress?”

“I can exorcise demons psychically.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I can trust …”

Aaliyah followed his gaze over to Ruby. She didn’t blame him for not trusting a demon after all that they had gone through with demons.

“Thanks,” Ruby said, clearly picking up on the gesture.

“But what I do know is that I’m saving people,” Sam continued. “And stopping demons, and that feels good.”

“By teaming up with a demon? Come on Sam, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Now you’re sounding like Dean,” Sam accused.

“He’ll agree with me. But if you wanna continue working with …” Aaliyah glanced over at Ruby again before back to Sam. “Go ahead, but don’t get mad at me when the time comes when I get to say I told you so.”

Aaliyah turned, gave Ruby one more look, and saw herself from the diner. Walking back to the bike, she mounted it and held onto the helmet. With a shake of her head, she put the helmet on and started the engine; driving away back to the motel. Now she knew what Sam was doing the past few months, but the question that bounced in her mind was would she dare tell Dean what Sam was doing, or leave it alone? Her phone started vibrating in her pocket, having her pull over to answer it.

“Hunter,” she greeted.

“Hunter?” Dean’s voice questioned.

“Wrong number. What’s up?”

“Where’d you take off?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a ride. Think you can head back to Bobby’s?”

“Yeah. Just need to grab my things from the motel.”

The line went dead when Dean hung up. Aaliyah pulled her cell from her ear and pulled up the text app.

Meet back at Bobby’s, she sent to Sam.

Once her phone was back in her pocket, and helmet readjusted, Aaliyah headed down the road.

#Supernatural season 4 outta hell Dean Ruby Demonslaying Sam OFC

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mattymattymerduck · 6 years

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Pick-Up Lines Pt 3

Summary: You had invited him over after work, telling him you had some notes on the case that you'd forgotten but wanted him to read over. When he asked why you couldn't just transfer the data to his computer you gave him the most adorably embarrassed look. He hadn't honestly thought you'd be capable of being embarrassed, not when just two hours ago you had made a comment about him reminding you of your toe; because I'm gonna bang you on every surface imaginable.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

Warnings: Swearing, sexual tension, the usual

Word count: 2000

A/N: I KNOW I promised smut but look guys it’s gonna start out the next chapter it’ll take place immediately after this part !!!! Thank you guys so much for the overwhelming support, I can’t even explain how much it means to me, and I promise I’ll work on being more consistent with updates lmao

Connor wanted something. Something he hadn't quite accepted until he replayed his memory files from the bar at least 50 times. It came with what he was understanding as an addiction to the giddiness your smile inspired. That simulated adrenaline rush was the closest he'd ever felt to being human, and it was because of you.

He wanted you to look at him with that spark in your eye when he flirted back, he wanted your arms wrapped around his neck again, fingers playing with the synthetic hair on the back of his neck. He wanted to nuzzle your noses together and feel your breath against his face and feel the warmth of your hips on his fingertips.

Most of all, he wanted your lips on his.

"Hey Connor! I'm grabbing donuts for everyone in the precinct and could use some extra hands, and since I'm sure you're pretty good with yours, did you wanna join?" You tilted your head at the end and he was subjected to an error message running through his programming. You were literally too cute for his software to handle.

"Ok." Was all he could manage while he tried to shut out the blinking red words. It didn't help when your fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him out of his chair.

---

You were waiting in line for your coffee when his first chance came. You'd swung around after cheerfully giving the barista your name for the cups and seemed to size Connor up.

"So I forgot to bring my library card with me, can I still check you out?" You said with a bit of a laugh at the end, taking another step closer. Connor calculated that you were about 13 inches away from him, almost close enough to feel your body heat on his sensors.

"I believe you already have." He had learned that flirting was more successful when he lowered his voice, so he was glad to register a little shiver run through you when the words left his lips.

"Well I guess that means I have 2 weeks to do whatever I want with you," Your fingers found his tie, using it to pull him a couple inches closer before straightening it out again. His thirium pump was running wild and all he could focus on was your lips. He was reminded of how magnetic you felt, especially at this distance.

When you glanced up at his face he decided it was now or never. He leaned forward slowly, coming close enough to feel your breath on his skin. He noted that you were moving closer too, flicking your eyes down to his lips.

"Y/N!"

You jumped away, huffing out an unsteady breath and then turned back to pick up the coffee and donuts, shoving some into Connor's stunned arms and practically pushing him out the doors.

---

His second chance came in an elevator with you and Hank, heading up to a crime scene. He was rolling his coin over his knuckles, it helped him sort through memory files and construct future plans of action.

Or, as a human might say, it helped him think.

"Connor you'd better put that thing away, it's starting to piss me off." Hank warned, as he always did when the coin tricks came out. You knew it was less out of anger and more out of jealousy, having seen Hank try and fail the same tricks.

"Leave him alone Hank, they're fun to watch." You rolled your eyes playfully, sending a small smirk Connor's way before continuing a little quieter, "Besides, it makes you think of all the other things those fingers could be good at."

"I should've taken the stairs." Hank scoffed, purposefully looking away to ignore the way Connor's lips twitched up. "Fuckin' disgusting." He muttered to himself pointedly.

"Y/N, were you aware that I can fluently speak 3756 different languages? Do you know what that means?" He raised an eyebrow, which might've been the most emotion he'd ever shown you, and it was almost too much to keep your drool in your mouth.

You shrugged.

"It means that I'm just as skilled with my tongue." His wink is what really got you, making you take a shamefully long time to pick your jaw up off the ground.

His LED was a steady blue, something you knew you had to change before you stepped off the elevator and actually had to do your job. Plus, you were not about to lose this little flirting competition to an android who had only flirted twice.

"That's quite the promise loverboy," You all but sauntered to him, using your finger to trace his jawline and guide his chin towards you. "I think you'd better prove it."

And there it was, the blinking yellow on his temple. You knew you should put your hand back at your side and step away in success, basking in the glory of his confused reaction.

You should, but you don't.

Connor has this sort of glimmer in his eyes when you look back at him, and it feels the same as when you were in the coffee shop, like you were gravitating towards him. It all but erases the thought that you should pull back and forget how pretty he looks from this close, every perfectly placed freckle and symmetrical plane of his face. It almost seemed like a good idea to kiss him at this point, since you were already most of the way there.

Then the elevator door beeped and slid open, and Hank loudly left, grunting about you damned horny kids and how you forgot I was even fuckin there.

He pulled away slightly, like he was fighting with himself. His eyes flicked over your shoulder and into the crime scene, he was having a difficult time assessing which option would have the best outcome.

Then his hand glided up your wrist and held your hand in place. His eyes locked with yours and you had to fight to keep breathing; Connor seemed so intense that your heart was hammering in your chest. His head tilted down and his lips brushed over your fingers, sending tingles down your arm.

"I'd like to take a rain check." And then he stepped past you and joined Hank in the crime scene.

---

The third time, he really hadn't planned on doing anything. Not until the last second.

You had invited him over after work, telling him you had some notes on a case that you'd forgotten but wanted him to read over. When he asked why you couldn't just transfer the data to his computer you gave him the most adorably embarrassed look. He hadn't honestly thought you'd be capable of being embarrassed, not when just two hours ago you had made a comment about him reminding you of your toe; because I'm gonna bang you on every surface imaginable.

Either way, you couldn't send it to him because you had written it down the old fashioned way, on paper. Connor had nearly forgotten that paper existed, even books were digital nowadays.

He had to search his database to come up with a word to describe the feeling of his components melting when you sheepishly told him this - 'Endearing' fit the best. You did, in fact, inspire affection on his part. And he liked the idea that you weren't completely dependent on technology; maybe that's why you'd always treated him more like a person instead of a machine.

He wondered why he was frustrated with that before becoming deviant, especially since he was so happy about it now.

"Shit, I know I threw it here somewhere," You said mindlessly, tossing piles of dated paperback books and manila folders all around your living room. Connor must've been too distracted the other morning when he came in if he had ignored such obvious evidence of your paper consumption.

But he couldn't blame himself, you were very distracting.

"Perhaps I could help?" He almost drawled, tucking his hands behind his back and tilting his head sincerely. You paused your shuffling to look at him before giving him a frustrated smile.

"I dug this grave myself but thanks. This better teach me to organize next time." You huffed, turning back. "Plus, this way you get a great view of my ass. Enjoy it."

He hadn't honestly thought about what a great view he had until then, but the little wiggle you did after that comment made him feel like short-circuiting. You were kinda too adorable for his program to properly compute.

"Aha!" You pulled a folder off the coffee table and waved it in the air, practically bouncing over to Connor. You pushed it into his chest, leaning in dangerously close. The reminder of how your shampoo smelt was enough to make his LED blink yellow, but the real culprit was the glint in your eyes.

"So, what do I gotta do to get a reward for this?" The RK800 model wasn't equipped with a sensor in its mouth to warn it against dehydration, but Connor still felt like his mouth went dry. The annoying red text in the corner of his vision was reminding him that kissing you then would only yield a 74% success rate.

With you, he wasn't all that willing to chance your relationship for anything less than 99%.

"What kind of reward were you thinking of?" His voice was lower again, the way that made every part of you shiver. His chances rose by 5%.

"Hmm," He watched his favourite smirk crawl onto your lips and his thirium seemed to hum in anticipation. A kiss, maybe? That would be the obvious flirty response, but for once he was hoping you'd be predictable and go for it. "I have some dishes that really need washing."

Connor found it increasingly difficult to hide his emotions, the more he felt the more he seemed to show. Right then he was sure everyone within a 10 mile radius could see how disappointed he was, slumping his shoulders just slightly and twisting his lips into a small frown. Even though he loved the sound of your giggle, it wasn't quite enough to make him smile again.

"Maybe I should read over these notes to verify their usefulness before I reward you for anything." He grumbled, which was possibly the cutest tone he'd used so far.

"Awe cheer up hot stuff! If it's not worth your time in the end I can give you a different kind of reward." You reached a hand up to run over his cheek, and for the extra second that you left it there, Connor swore he saw your devious smirk melt into something genuinely caring.

It only lasted a second, but a second had never felt so stretched out before. He felt like the earth had swallowed him up whole and everything beyond you was empty space. There was just you, and it was all he really wanted.

"But you gotta wash some plates first, how else am I gonna enjoy my favourite snacc if the table I plan to enjoy him on is covered?" You tapped his nose and turned away from him, officially ending the moment.

But the thought occurred to Connor, what exactly was stopping him from kissing you? Wasn't it an incredibly human thing to ignore statistics, especially when the odds weren't in your favour (which was not his case), and just do what you wanted? Wasn't he trying to be more human? What exactly was he scared about here?

Nothing, he honestly had nothing to fear.

So his arms wrapped around your waist before you could step away from him, tugging you against his chest gently. He craned his neck down so his mouth was right next to your ear, the perfect distance for you to feel his lips brush against it when he spoke.

And oh, when he spoke your heart stopped beating. His voice was low and quiet and it reverberated in your skull like thunder during a storm.

"I think I'd rather cash in that rain check Y/N."

@greenangrysnowflake @glitch-girl318 @wowkapow @nedmjpeter (I’m sorry this one isn’t gender-neutral!!!!! I hope you don’t mind) @haikyuu-imagines-and-others @x6-15 @deviantwrites @ev3e @moonlightmvrvel @i-cannot-find-a-username @connorlikesdogs @thecrazybluefangirl @i--mustnottelllies @assonanceambiance @tea-with-loki @just-d-o-et @paintingheroes @komotion @tykiwife @connorisalivedbh @potenzel

#dbh connor #connor rk800 #connor x reader #connor fanfiction #rk800 x reader #rk800 #detroit become human #dbh rk800 #dbh fanfic

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tallstales · 4 years

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Day 9 Haunted Places in RI (13 Days of Halloween)

Every place has its tales of terror, especially at Halloween when ghosts are all the rage. Below is a list of 13 favorite local haunts for my state - Rhode Island! Being one of the oldest colonies in the United States, little Rhode Island has its fair share of old buildings and they are full of stories.

1. Byron Read Building - Coventry, Rhode Island

In the town of Coventry, Rhode Island sits an abandoned building on Washington Street. The local historical building located at 706 Washington RI 02816 as been falling to ruin over time. Formally owned by local business owner Byron Read, it has been home to Gorton’s funeral home services, a furniture maker, a Glasswares shop, child carriages builders, and those who sold furs, feathers, carpets and linoleum.This building, has been empty for decades but it does see the occasional short lived tennant. One renter in the 1990’s was using the space as a makeshift recording studio. Afterward, they regretted their decision.

The band knew the building’s history but they didn't give this a second thought. They didn’t expect to encounter anything unusual but what they experienced shocked them. They reported hearing loud banging sounds that would interrupt their recordings.Soon after band members witnessed several apparitions. One of these ghosts was a tall man wearing traditional baggy clothing. They saw this ghost walk right through walls. Another ghost they saw on several occasions was a small man that wore glasses. They allegedly identified this man as an undertaker from a portrait that was left in the building. The undertaker would frequently close the double doors in a room they used for rehearsals.

It is rumored that the creepiest activity they encountered was a woman’s mournful cries. During one of the band’s last visits to their new studio, they heard the doors slam shut behind them and as they began to record they heard other bangs within the building. They also reported hearing a female voice screaming. They seemed to be coming from the top floor but were so loud the band members could hear them throughout the building. When they built up their courage to investigate, the band went up to the 3rd floor and switched on the lights to the large room. Once the lights were on the noises immediately stopped.

Other witnesses state that they have seen lights flicker on and off and several have seen dark entities moving around the building. I myself would love to go in and explore. The building looks like i would make a lovely book shop and cafe. Maybe even one where the books would organize themselves! How fun would that be to own?

2. Nathanael Greene Homestead - Coventry, RI

Going down the road a bit in Coventry, you can find the Nathanael Greene Homestead. This home, now a museum, is located on Taft Street. Dating back to 1770, the historic home was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1971 and is recognized as a National Historic Landmark. This was once the home to American Revolutionary War General Nathanael Greene from 1770 to 1776, and then to his brother Jacob Greene and his wife Margaret. Today, the home is owned and operated by the General Nathanael Greene Homestead Association, a local non-profit organization.

A number of strange things are rumored to happen here.The baby carriage in Elizabeth Margaret's room has been known to move on its own. Other reports include apparitions, voices, screams, disembodied footsteps, door latches that open and close by themselves, and the sound of a phantom carriage driving up to the house. And in the unused kitchen, witnesses have reported the smell of bread baking. This range of spooky activity has given the house a reputation of being one of the most haunted buildings in Rhode Island.

The Nathanael Greene Homestead is one of the few on our list that is still open to small tours so be sure to check it out!

3. The White Horse Tavern - Newport, RI

America's Oldest Tavern is serving more than the expected spirits! The oldest, and supposedly most haunted tavern in America, White Horse Tavern opened in 1673 at which point it served as a courthouse, a meeting place for Colonists, British soldiers, pirates, sailors and founding fathers, and lastly, a private residence. According to legend, and some eye-witness tavern employees, several ghosts still occupy the tavern.

The ghost stories here go back decades and the list of sightings is longer than the Tavern’s bar menu! Many staff members claim to hear and see strange things frequently. There have been accounts of being tapped on the shoulder and disembodied footsteps overheard from nearby empty rooms. Ghostly sightings are said to include an elderly man in Colonial garb, a seamen who previously died on the premises, and a female reported floating above one of the dining tables. Would you like to arrange a visit?

4. Belcourt Castle - Newport, RI

Built in 1895, The Belcourt Castle is located at 657 Bellevue Avenue, Newport, RI. It was constructed as a summer cottage for Oliver Hazard Perry Belmont and was designed by architect Richard Morris Hunt. The home features a Chateau style and is 50,000 square feet, which leaves plenty of room for hauntings. It was purchased by the Tinney Family in 1956, who used the estate to showcase their expansive art and antiques collection. On July 28, 1957, Belcourt opened its doors to the public for guided tours of the museum.

The Belcourt is rumored to be one of Rhode Island's most haunted spots, it isn’t haunted by an actual ghost, instead it is home to haunted objects and antiques on display. Some antiques on this list are haunted chairs that move and send tingles up the spines to those who sit in them and a monk's statue that allegedly claimed the man's spirit that it was modeled on. There is also a suit of armor rumored to echo with the death cry of its original owner. A guest to the mansion, Harle Tinney discusses his interaction with this suit of armor in Haunted Newport:

"No one was home so I thought it was strange that the lights were on in the ballroom. Being naturally conservative and not wanting to burn the electricity unnecessarily, I went through the ballroom to turn out the lights. After I had turned off the switch, there was a very little light left. As I passed the front of the armor, something screamed at me. It was a horrible and loud, roaring sound. Then the lights went back on and I turned them off again and the armor screamed. When it screamed a third time, I ran as fast as I could from the room. The scream was terrifying. It sounded like someone was being killed."

The amount of paranormal activity at this century-old estate makes it one of Rhode Island's spookiest destinations. If you're feeling brave enough, the house offers tours of the haunted rooms and worldly antiques. And the sixty-room mansion has a lot of them!

5. Fort Wetherill - Jamestown, RI

Fort Wetherill is another one of the most haunted places in Rhode Island, but it may have the oldest haunt on this list. It is told that when the British took control of the Fort in 1776 they were terrorized by a black dog who prowled there. In British folklore, a black dog is said to be an omen of death so they were understandably kept on edge by his appearance.

He is still spotted on occasion at Fort Wetherill usually glaring at people before disappearing through a wall. To this day, people still report growling, barking, and howling there.

Rebuilt as a park in 1899, Fort Wetherill is located on Conanicut Island and sits on the East Passage of Narragansett Bay opposite Fort Adams State Park. Almost a century later the Fort would see death again when four women were found murdered and dumped in the water near the docks in 1985, all of them just in their 20s. Ever since the tragic incident, there have been over 200 police reports regarding paranormal activity.

Despite the violent history, the former artillery fort can has long been an interesting place for locals and tourists alike to hike through during the spring and summer. There is a museum’s worth of graffiti on the walls adding to the atmosphere. You only have to worry about staying after sundown if you don’t want things to get weird.

6. Chestnut Hill Cemetery - Exeter, RI

This is perhaps the best known haunted place in Rhode Island. Nestled in the Chestnut Hill Baptist Church Cemetery, flowers and trinkets adorning her well-worn tombstone, lays Mercy Brown . In 1892, when Mercy Brown died from tuberculosis it was nothing abnormal. In fact, she wasn’t even the first in her immediate family to suffer through the same sickness. Mercy, her mother, and two of her siblings all died of consumption and her brother was at the time sick as well. This was during a period when there was a great deal of hysteria surrounding vampires in New England and rumors persisted that one of the Browns must be undead.

This hysteria led to the families’ bodies being exhumed.But as more and more people began to die from the dreaded disease, suspicion arose that supernatural powers were to blame. Mercy’s mother and sister were dug up for inspection and after seeing sufficient decomposition to the bodies, were deemed safely dead. But Mercy, whose body was being stored in an above ground vault due to the frozen ground, seemed merely sleeping. When they cut out her heart to examine it, the frozen liquid was still bright red and that seemed to prove it. To the town, Mercy was a vampire and the only way to heal the evil she had spread and stop her victims from dying was to burn her heart and liver and mix the ashes in a tonic to feed to those victims. Even to some locals, this was too much. The story soon spread nationwide and even crossed the pond, allegedly inspiring Bram Stoker’s famou tale, Dracula.

Today, Mercy's grave is protected by a metal band connected to a post imbedded into the ground to prevent it from being stolen. Some visitors still claim Mercy’s ghost has been seen around the tomb wearing a dirty, ripped gown.

In one instance, a visitor to the cemetery managed to record a young woman’s voice in EVP form saying, “Please let me rest in peace”. Whether this was Mercy’s ghost or not, I think we can all agree that the poor young woman has been through enough in life and death and should be left to rest in peace.

7. The Ladd School - Exeter, RI

The Ladd School, formerly known as the Rhode Island School for the Feeble Minded, was founded in 1908 . Over the years it came to be home to criminals and other people society felt would be best removed from the general population. This included everyone from the mentally ill to promiscuous women. The school became known for horrible and often immoral acts against those who were being cared for.

Those acts included but are not limited to forced sterilizations, lobotomys, and other barbaric treatments including murder of disabled children. In addition to staff harming the patients, many of them committed crimes against each other as well.

This abandoned building is now known to be one of the most haunted abandoned places in the united States. It is common for electronic items to be drained of power and many locals report hearing moaning, footsteps or shuffling feet and crying throughout the main building and other surrounding buildings. Witnesses have also claimed to hear disembodied voices murmuring, whispering or crying out. Doors have been seen opening or closing without explanation. These same doors also seem to lock at times even if there is no lock on the door itself. Eerie growling sounds have been heard in patients' former rooms, when no animals are present. Some visitors here have also claimed they were touched, shoved, or they've had items knocked out of their hands by some unseen force.

Outside, visitors have claimed to see human shaped shadows moving across the field and into the woods. Voices have been heard out there as well and many have photographed glowing orbs. Car radios are said to go haywire or stop working all together and a few people have claimed that their car alarms or horns have gone off for no reason. Best to leave the roaming of these grounds to the spirits and stay away.

8. Providence Athenaeum - Providence, RI

Dating back to 1836, The Providence Athenaeum first opened as a member run library out of the Providence Arcade in downtown. Eventually, the library moved to its current location at 251 Benefit Street in Providence, RI. It is this location that has been the site of reported paranormal activity. The library was loved by both H.P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. Poe in particular has left a significant impression.

The well documented romance between Edgar Allan Poe and poet Sarah Helen Whitman highlights many a visit to this famous library. It's said the ghost of Poe himself haunts the top floor. Poe died not long after he and Whitman ended their engagement in the Athenaeum and Whitman is said to have summoned his spirit in the library. If you believe this then it may not surprise you that years later a man was found sleeping on the Athenaeum steps. When asked to move, he proceeded to yell out Poe’s poem The Conqueror Worm before vanishing into thin air.

There is also a cursed fountain on the premises. Legend has it if you drink from the fountain outside the Providence Athenaeum you may leave Rhode Island but are guaranteed to always return. Since the fountain is from 1873, it is not in the best condition and is recommend by the staff that you don't test this legend out or you may never return to life itself.

9. Cumberland Public Library - Cumberland, RI

Another haunted library on our list is the Cumberland Public Library. The most infamous haunting in the town of Cumberland, settled in 1635 is on the grounds of a former monastery and current library. Common reports of paranormal activity include disembodied screams, a phantom monk on the grounds as well as moving from one place to another on their own. Many of the people who live locally actually believe that it is not just the building itself that is haunted, but the entire surrounding area.

Locals believe that it is haunted by the spirits of nine militiamen who are said to have been flayed there. Too little is known about the event to be certain but flaying does seem violent enough to warrant a few screams now and then. I have been on the grounds before and though I haven’t seen monks or moving books or heard screams, I can say that there is a lovely wooded path to walk along. And though beautiful, my husband and I did keep turning around because we felt like we were being followed. Weird!

10. THE BILTMORE HOTEL - PROVIDENCE, RI

Since opening in 1922, this haunted hotel has been the inspiration for not one but two horror hits! It Both the Bates Motel in Robert Bloch’s horror novel “Psycho” and the Overlook Hotel in Stephen King’s book “The Shining.” were inspired by stays at The Biltmore.

In October 2017, the iconic hotel in downtown Providence became the Graduate Providence, but the ghosts have stayed checked in. The Biltmore Hotel was named as America’s most haunted hotel in 2000. When you look into the hotel’s history it is easy to see why

When it was built, The Biltmore was financially backed by rumored Satanist Johan Leisse Weisskopf. It has been said that he oversaw rituals in the building and there were even rumors of human sacrifices having taken place. The hotel also became a hot spot during Prohibition and a number of high profile murders took place amidst the rowdy parties involving police officers and even the mayor. All of this has led to a range of paranormal activity. Guests often report the sounds of rowdy parties coming from empty rooms long after the hotel bars have closed. There have also been instances of guests vanishing from the halls as recently as 2008. I don’t know about you but I think this seems like a great place to attend a party or take a tour but maybe not where I want to spend the night.

11. Slater Mill - Pawtucket, RI

Dating back to 1793, this historic Mill is located on the banks of the Blackstone River in Pawtucket and was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1966. This historic textile mill complex was modeled after cotton spinning mills first established in England.Now operating as a history museum, the site is recognized as the birthplace of the American Industrial Revolution. It's also said to be pretty haunted by those who died at the factory while working on dangerous machines.

During the time period that the factory was in operation, children were allowed to be employed as workers and because of their size, they would sometimes be forced to clean out the machines when they were jammed. Haunting reports here include dark figures as well as the sounds of children running around and child’s screams.

12. Governor Sprague Mansion - Cranston, RI.

Located at 1351 Cranston Street, the historic Governor Sprague Mansion is a stunning former mansion and current museum. Birthplace of two Rhode Island governors, this mansion has seen a lot of history but also its share of violence. The mansion is said to be haunted by a former resident after his mysterious murder in the 1800s.

Amasa Sprague, successful textile merchant and brother of governor and US senator William Sprague, was found beaten to death outside the mansion in December 1843. John Gordon was accused and found guilty of the murder and sentenced to death by hanging. Gordon would be the last person executed in Rhode Island. In 2011, the case was researched and Gordon was pardoned postmortem based on the lack of evidence supporting his conviction. It seems that when reviewing historical documents, there is much more evidence for a clear anti-Catholic and anti-Irish bias than there was Gordon having anything to do with the murder. But Gordon’s ghost might be holding a grudge stronger than a pardon given too late. Sprague Mansion is said to be under the power of a poltergeist ever since the hanging.

Witness reports run the gamut from the mysterious unmaking of beds, flickering lights and shuffling footsteps to actual ghost sightings, disembodied whispers and objects moving on their own.

13. The Perron House (The Conjuring House) - Burrillville, RI

Last on our list is the internationally famous Perron House. In the 1970s, a family called the Perrons moved to a beautiful house on the border of Harrisville and Burrillville to raise their family. They might have not picked the best place to bring their children however. According to the legend, the property belonged to a deceased Satanist named Bathsheba who killed her own daughter to appease the Devil.

The Perron House has become a worldwide sensation thanks to the movie based on true events that occurred in the home of Roger and Carolyn Perron. It’s a pretty solid choice if you’re looking for something spooky to watch this Halloween.

As the story goes, it wasn’t long after the couple and their daughters moved into the home that they started seeing terrifying things. Mrs. Perron once woke to find an old woman in a gray dress with her head hanging at an awkward angle standing over her bed. Famed paranormal experts Ed and Lorraine Warren were brought in to help and quickly concluded that this was the spirit of Bathsheba Sherman who hanged herself after murdering her daughter in a ritual to bind her soul to the property. The Perrons went through some insane happenings in this house but it is believed that the Warrens did manage to separate the ghosts of the past from the property. So, though this used to be a major haunting hotspot, it seems to be a peaceful place to live today.

Readers be warned. This is not a tourist spot to go and explore. This is a private residence and ever since the release of the 2013 film the family residing there have been besieged, not by spirits but by trespassers. Do not disturb this family. It isn’t fair to them, they did not profit from the film at all and you would not want strangers in your yard looking through your windows at all hours.

WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE SPOOKY SPOTS IN RI? DON’T FORGET TO SHARE YOUR EXPERIENCE AND PICTURES IN THE COMMENTS BELOW!

13 DAYS OF HALLOWEEN IS A SPECIAL TREAT FOR ME AND MY READERS. ON HALLOWEEN, THERE WILL BE A VERY SPECIAL GIVEAWAY I’D LOVE FOR YOU TO TAKE PART IN. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO ENTER IS COMMENT OR SHARE THIS POST TO YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA.

THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING AND BEST OF LUCK!

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monolid-monologues · 5 years

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I am my worst critic and chief caretaker. I am independent. Hear me roar.

#7.

I'm late to rehearsal. Again. 20 min. 30 min. An hour even. The usual.. I'm playing "how late can i REALLY be?" Exactly how late is too late when there's no one else waiting? Oh pfffT WELL "Let's PUSH IT." .... Am having a hard time distinguishing Doing Myself a Favor and Doing Myself an Injustice. How much does "being late" matter when i'm the only one concerned? There is a special strain of STRICT i am missing. It's not right to be late to your own thing. Your thing you're doing for you. That thing no one asked for. The thing you're only doing because you want to. Yes, the hand back there. Yes? Says an itchy scratchy little PIPSQUEAK voice in the back: what if i'm simply embracing the rare freedom my solitude allows? Is that steaming hot bullshit? What if i mean it?

In solitude, we come into our independence. After a history of frequent solitude, we may like it. And then we need it. Having experienced the self-healing wonders of independence, we more than need it, we celebrate it. A prized possession. Non-negotiable. We earned it. We dug it up. We nurtured it. It is both impressively healed scar and shiny trophy. A shiny, impressive trophy-shaped scar. Our independence endows the superpower ability to Feel Alone and Feel Happy at the same time. All the "finding yourself" "being with yourself" you've been doing, whether you know you're doing it or not, all that work thus far, is worth it when you get to remember, and really believe: You are Enough. Our independence protects us. What's the armor for? I wonder what we're afraid of.

I'm afraid

dependence is burdensome. on everyone. On you, who I need. On me, whose self, from needing you, is lacking. I'm afraid dependence is high risk. unseemly. unnecessary. "I depend on you!" -- Can you imagine saying that to your friend? Best friend. Family member. Doesn't it ring a lil freaky? For a lot of us, it's so much easier to say "You can depend on me." (I'm not lacking, but it's okay if you are.) That'll slip right off the tongue. Even if you're not actually up to it.

So what if i'm late to my own rehearsal. I don't need to explain myself to anyone. I do not prefer working alone. yet here i am. Mostly because i moved back to LA with no collaborators to call. So here i am. Maybe i may as well relish the tiny privilege of getting to show up whenever the H i feel like it.

Independence. Free of attachments. Impervious to the consequences of our spinning world. Minimizing hurt. An efficient social strategy. Also independence: not having to explain yourself, to anyone. But, if that starts to become you couldn't explain yourself, even if you should? If that starts to become: I'd rather not connect, because, i'm fine as is. I'm independent. ? If a great perk of independence is reporting to no one.... a grave danger must be losing the musculature for it. Or even, just, forgetting its value. I know these weekly blog entries are good for me. By reporting to myself, to you, to Whatever Something outside of myself, I'm flexing my expressive muscles. I'm willfully practicing my desire to Connect. And to stay in Touch. I'm engaging my reflection. And staring it down. I'm accounting for myself. I value being in touch. I survive by being in touch. With myself. And with others in the world.

thank you for being here. I CAN’T LIE. Being late to my #partyof1 rehearsals is A RED FLAG. It's happening too easily, too much. Up until now, I've been telling myself: it's fine, you adjust, you're doing good work in spite of it, so that's good. It's good. I'm fine. I don't need to answer to anyone. Just myself. As in: if i can rationalize it to myself, that's all that matters. I wonder. About all the times in my personal life i decided i couldn't be bothered to push past my walls and reach out with my perspective. To explain myself. To account for my feelings with them. All the times i decided they don't need to know. at least i know. In other words, i don't want to answer to you. I answer to no one.

Once upon a time, there was a little toenail.

It kept getting hit, in this one spot, and it waited, until something was more wrong and more painful than just getting hit in that one spot. The habitual inability to give what is hard for you to give -- ingrown baggage. It's gonna hurt and when it does it'll be too late. Maybe a good fortuitous YANK will help? and you just pray there's no infection?

12 rehearsals clocked.

It should've been 13. Number 11 was last Monday. Number "12" was supposed to be last Thursday. I didn't make it. I didn't go. i'm too tired. (I miss rehearsal for the first time......) So "12" happens the following Saturday. For the first time in rehearsal, on Monday i am so tired i can't work like i've been. No intensive, lengthy warm-up. No meticulous loosening of all my joints. No ungodly long duration of just-for-shits movement exploration. I'm so tired. I just got back from Davis, 6 hours up and 6 hours back so maybe that had something to do with it lol. YES. Going from a 6 hour drive to an 8 hour work day to the gym then to rehearsal WOULD tire a girl out. Even so, i can't afford to be tired in rehearsal. With only about 20 hours a month to work on my show, it's critical I have energy for it. Interestingly enough, in pushing through the exhaustion, i felt some surprising developments in the work. I slowed wayyyyyy down. IT DID SOMETHING. Forget pushing through the text to cover as much ground, as many pages, as possible. I let myself sit, in silence, in discomfort, in suspense. I resist turning the page. resist moving on. stay where you are. go back. collect yourself. begin again. Tiny surprises emerge from beginning again. Takes me 2 hours to rehearse 4 pages. It's actually somehow MORE taxing, but something's working, and it fuels me through. Slowly, and again. And again. and again. The same four pages. My play feels strange. Every line sounds weird. I feel unfamiliar.

Be true to who you are. Be your own person.

And if this person flaked on their own rehearsal Thursday? Note to self: Take what you feel. And move it.

I resist "erasing" my mistakes.

In rehearsal, sometimes there's a pressure to perform as if if it were the final product. To make it a better "final product" moment with every iteration. I told this pressure to suck my tired ass. *high five* There lives an odd and quite bewildering mission to produce - in rehearsal - the moment i wish to see in performance. It's tempting. You want to see your show advance its "performance-ready shape" every day, every new rehearsal. Directors may desire to see their actors improve as if the journey of an actor's body is like the trajectory of climbing up some stairs. Upward. Diagonal. Linear. To use rehearsal to try to predict the final performance, rather than to explore its possibilities, seems a shame. seems counter-intuitive. This is what i gathered in my slow Monday rehearsal.

Yes, Rose, you are getting very tired from a lot of things.

It's going to impact your ability to rehearse. You are not a machine. You need rest. If you don't prioritize your rest when you need it, this is only the BEGINNING of your flakey potential. *Cue scare tactics....*

Fearing i'm not making the right choices.

Letting this fear co-opt me into believing there is such a thing as the right choice. I love myself for a lot of things right now. It doesn't stop me from being so hard on myself. I'm struggling to balance Discipline and Generosity, Instability and Patience. I know there's a harmony somewhere. Maybe i've had so many washed up ideas and failed projects and unsuccessful days that i dreamed up over the past twenty three years, that i just can't stand it anymore. Too many balls i dropped. Too many rain checks i never cleared. Too many days i've scheduled for myself that never did manifest. Too many mornings i don't wake up as early as i planned. Too many of my OWN rehearsals i've been late to. Too many of my OWN appointments i've failed to show up for. Too much I've let slip through my fingers in the name of "Because i can." or "I don't have to."

Need you. Love, Me.

* * *

i’ve committed to being vulnerable in writing every week. if u want it straight shot to your inbox: https://tinyletter.com/rose-artrat

previous letter: #6.) TMI meets TMO (recovering from a broken heart)

for random thoughts, random questions //

http://monolid-monologues.tumblr.com/ask

#overrated things #tinyletter #artist journal #rose kim #independence #independent #working solo #living solo

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biolabs-soldier · 7 years

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Fictional Historical Vampire Account

Hi everyone,

I have always loved scary stories. Moreover, I love the origins behind scary stories. A vampire was originally someone who died and continued to suck the life out of others from their grave. I find it really interesting, so I made a fictional account of one of these such cases. I hope you enjoy!

A journal entry from a leader of an unnamed town, dated March 20th. The year was not written. Based on the language and age of the paper, historians say it is before the 19th century.

March 20th

In our quiet town, an outsider has come. Claiming he was a traveler from a land he would not say, he asked for shelter and food. The man claimed to earn his keep and become a member of our town who would have good relations with everyone. The man, Eugene Becker, was a strange fellow, to say the least. Tall and thin, he struck me as someone who didn’t belong in our quiet farming village. He had a dense brown beard, brown eyes and messy hair he kept under a hat. Though his reputation in my opinion was harsh, I credit him with the fact that he did indeed earn his keep by working hard; sometimes even harder and longer than our own farmers. He did travel on foot from whatever land he hailed from, so I suppose working hard was in his blood.

March 25th

I admit, I may have been too harsh on Becker. He has held up his word for these few days, and I am impressed. The work on our farm is not the easiest, but he has not complained once about the weather, the conditions, or even the portions of food he has received at supper. I am grateful to have another pair of hands on the farm, as death comes quick to ill in this town. We have lost a few of our older workers to the fever that goes around, as well as the Consuming Disease, so I hope that Becker stays a while.

March 26th

I believe the town is taking a liking to Becker. Everyone I have spoken to has said kind things of him and nothing more. Hard working and silent, he gets the job done, takes a break, and continues his work like the rest of us. He has been working exceptionally hard, since the neighbor, Mary Hale, has fallen ill suddenly. Her husband, John, is not sure what she has yet, but he is keeping watch over her all day. She complains of a fever and is coughing for quite some time in bursts. We are worried about her, but Mary is a good woman, God will help her.

April 2nd

I fear for Mary. She has gotten considerably worse. She looks sickly and coughs blood every morning. John says he has lost faith in God and is worried she will not survive the week. I have faith in my God and pray that she is able to recover from this damned disease. Becker has continued to take over Mary’s work, and even volunteers to check on her every day while John is resting. He is a good man.

April 5th

It is with a heavy heart that I write today. Mary Hale has died sometime in the night on April 4th. John found her body in her bed, contorted into a ball as if in great pain. She did not want to be thought a burden, so she kept her pain a secret, we think. Becker and John have dug a hole for her in the pasture just outside the property. We will hold the service today. We have lost many townsfolk here, but this one feels different. We all mourned more, consoled each other more, and even drank more to forget the agony Mary’s death caused. She was loved by all, and we were pained to see her leave us at the age of 31.

April 10th

It’s strange that I am writing this in my journal, but I have heard whispers in the town that Becker made Mary sick. I do not believe these accusations of course, but I am worried about Becker. What will he think of this when someone tells him of these lies? I heard hushed conversation of the wives claiming that Becker was a demon who poisoned Mary when she slept, and that he was falsifying his image of a man; concealing the devil under his flesh. These accounts are strange, but Mary did fall ill not long after Becker arrived. Perhaps the work is making me go mad…

April 13th

Another townsperson has begun to show signs of sickness. Little Johnathan Beech, the youngest boy of Simon’s family, has collapsed out in the field while working. His father says it was caused by the heat and overworking the boy. He chided me for making that young of a boy work, but we need as many working hands on the farm as possible. Johnathan is seven years of age, which is plenty old to begin reaping wheat and corn. He works the least out of everyone, so I am not sure if Simon is being completely honest with me. I fear that the Beech boy has gotten the disease which took Mary, as I saw him with a bloody handkerchief close to his mouth.

Becker seems to be well, despite all the discourse on our quiet farm. He works, rests, eats, and sleeps. I feel that talking with him is best. I do not want our best farmhand to leave because of lies and deceit going on in my farm.

April 15th

I spoke with Becker yesterday and told him about what I had heard. When I told him the details, he merely shook his head and pushed it aside. He did not believe it, nor did he become angry, so I think he is safe. God is protecting us, and perhaps the death is just a small price to pay for the sins people commit every day. Johnathan has not left his home in a few days, and I worry about him. I spoke with Simon about his well-being, but he will not be sensible with me. All he tells me is to concern myself with my own work and to leave him and his family alone. His shortness of tone makes me feel concerned regarding his boy.

April 18th

Johnathan has wasted away to just skin and bone, as he is small and young, the disease is working faster on him. The women in the town are doing their best to keep him strong, but my wife has told me that she thinks Johnathan is on his death bed. Against his father’s will, I quietly asked the priest to deliver Johnathan’s last rights during the night. The priest gladly obliged and ensured me he would send him to God’s hands if the Lord chose to take him that night.

April 20th

The Beech’s boy has died this afternoon. On the 19th, he spoke of horrible dreams as he slept. He said that he saw Mary, but she wore tattered clothes and had sunken in eyes, like that of a monster. Johnathan told us that he saw Mary ripping and tearing at his flesh, but he could not wake up. After he awoke, we were all waiting around his bed, on account that we c0uld hear his screams and groans from the field. Simon passed it off as stress and the sickness, as well as witnessing a death at an age where he could recall details. The townspeople whispered of Becker being the cause of this death, too. I stopped the conversation and made sure that Becker would never be accused of such an act again.

April 25th

Against all odds, Becker has fallen ill, along with two others in the town: Simon and my wife. They all complain of head pain, breathing issues, and a fever. I know that they have Mary’s disease. One of the townspeople, Nathan, has spoke of tales he heard from others. He told us that Mary was actually a monster who was the cause of everyone’s death. She was dead and buried, but she still had a grip on everyone as long as her corpse was resting in peace. I rejected this tale and tried to tell everyone that it was the illness spreading. The town was convinced that Mary was killing the rest of us. She was a good woman, why would she do this? I fear for my wife and Becker, as well as Simon. I spoke with the priest and he told me that God is full of avarice at the moment because of something we have done to upset him. I am unsure I believe Father presently, but I was a man of Christianity, and I had faith.

April 29th

Today, my wife Abigail has died in the night. I heard her screaming that she was being attacked, so I brought my rifle from downstairs and went to see what was the matter. Aiming my rifle, all I saw her body, lying on the floor, covered in spattered blood. Angry at God, I spoke with Nathan. I wanted answers and wanted this to stop. Abigail would be the last to die from this disease, and I was to make sure of it. Nathan told me that the way to stop the disease was to open Mary’s coffin, drive a stake through her heart, and cut off her head. This was very frightening to me, but I had to make sure my town was safe from any intruder: human or not. Tonight, Nathan and I plan to dig up Mary and fulfill the ritual. I must get John’s permission to do so first.

I have just returned from the grave of Mary. I am unsure how to describe it, but I shall do my best. Nathan and I knelt down and dug up the dirt with our shovels, throwing it aside. We had to make haste, as John did not give us permission to do so. We wanted answers, and though I will go to Hell for this, I had to get them where I could. After reaching the coffin, Nathan and I heaved the lid open and looked at the corpse. It was odd to note the changes in her corpse than the others I have seen before. One of our older town members, Elijah, had died out in the field months ago and no one knew where he went . a week or so after he went missing, we found his corpse, which was rotten and decayed to bones and fabric-thin skin. Mary, however, looked natural. Her nails had grown, her hair had grown, and her cheeks were still red and full. Fresh blood was in her mouth. Nathan pulled out his knife and cut into her chest. The corpse smelled of rotten meat and decay, but I held my strength and helped him tear open her chest. Prying the ribs with my shovel, I was filled with disgust as I saw a fresh heart, still blood red. Nathan handed me the stake and I drove it in with a hammer. I did this quickly and powerfully, as I wanted to leave as soon as I could. As I drove the stake into her heart, Mary’s corpse groaned and fell limp. I jumped at the sight and climbed out of the hole in the ground. I urged Nathan to finish the job. He took the shovel and threw it down onto the corpse, slicing its neck. With another blow, the head was detached. From the heart poured blood which looked new and red. Nathan grabbed the corpse’s head whilst I closed the coffin lid. He threw the head on the coffin and we covered the grave as quickly as God willed us. We ran to our homes. I covered my eyes with the blanket and got no sleep. I lay there, awake, staring at the ceiling, hearing the groans and sighs from the corpse.

May 10th

The farm has been busy, and I have not had time to write. In cheerful news, Simon and Becker have miraculously broke from the illness. They say they have not had a nightmare in weeks and that they feel strong and new. John does not know we destroyed his wife’s corpse, and we intend to keep it that way. Nathan said that he, too, did not get any sleep that night of the ritual. In hushed tones, he told me that Mary had been a vampire, and that now the town was safe from any more dark power. I know for this I am going to Hell. I believe my town deserves to be safe, and if God wishes to punish me, then so be it. I pray that no one else has an experience like this.

#scary #vampire #legend #lore #folklore #tale #story #fiction #nightmare #dark #macabre

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