#i have been having to force myself to eat & grocery shopping feels like being killed because nothing appeals to me

[forgotten-daydreamer]

"have you eaten?" "yes" i said, like a liar

[anaalnathrakhs]

it fucking breaks my heart i've been killing myself for months trying to repair my relationship w my parents and the three of us are just fucking deficient human beings. we're incapable of changing we're fucking incapable of it there's no going back everything was set from the moment i was born. they never should've had a child, but what the fuck could i blame on them? once the kid is here you just do your best you can't just decide it was a bad idea and get rid of it. they did their best. there's no good way to deal with a fucked up child. but holy fuck i wish i wasnt just idk born wrong. i wish life didn't suck and wasn't so hard. i wish when my mom said she'd take more time for family and relaxing she didn't go back to working until 8pm at least every day in the following month, but there's realities pushing her to. i wish when we saw each other we had things to do rather than just stare at each other awkwardly. i can't ever do anything because everything impacts my parents. and god knows i owe them to stop impacting them so much i did enough shit already. i can't enjoy a trip out with them because then we go home and it's MORE incredibly unsatisfactory socializing and forced eating lest they look at me like a monster. i can't leave because then it's WE leave not I leave. i can't just live my life after school because i have to be back to have the terrible binge-inducing dinner with them else i'm a fucking monster who makes them stay awake and worry at night. i have to make them aware of my every move because else they're gonna worry, i can't do that to them i have no valid reason to. i can't ever relax. i have no safe place anymore. there's always food in the house, we always have to go grocery shopping the same day and fill up the pantry. i can't buy anything substantial or component of a "normal" meal because then they just sit there while my mom never uses them despite knowing about them the whole time. there's been bricks of soup in the pantry for like two months she hasn't even MENTIONNED CONSIDERING THEM for the whole time. we bought, and i mean WE bought, WE took a couple canned vegetables from the shelves and we said good idea and we put them in the cart, and then she NEVER used them until i desperately broke the agreement that i was not to have control over what's for dinner and suggested we could perhaps maybe eat the food we had bought to eat, and she was like yeah sure great idea! we ate one can, and then for WEEKS afterwards we still don't touch any of the other cans. she keeps adding and adding and adding a billion things to every meal it makes me wanna rope. she keeps putting huge slabs of butter in pasta MOTHER it tastes the same except it's gross and five billion calories now can you stop doing that thanks. i've had my parents pretty much at my will for many many things all of my life, because they're completely floating in the meaningless void on what it means to be a parent, and it's just not healthy in ways i cannot possibly wholly imagine, and now we're stuck in some sort of circle that if i don't DEMAND something it's like i never said anything. but i can't DEMAND things because that is not a control a kid should have over their own parents and there's no nuance of possible things it's either they'll bend over backwards for even the most ill-advised demand or they will not budge an inch for the most structured three-parted argument doubled with the plead of my failing mental health even if it has demonstrably not worked before, and i certainly do not want to have a relationship with ANYONE where they feel forced to act a certain way because of me. and it's been so weird having developped this kind of very marked independance on like, DRIVE, while i was a neet, that now that i'm older and more legitimate to slowly leave the nest it feels incredibly weird and bad to entrap myself more closely instead.

so i keep trying to give them the elements of what consequences this or that thing has on me, and letting them evaluate themselves what they value, and so far the result has been that they don't give a shit about making me suffer, and they're completely cool with watching me act like i'm coked up in public bc i'm in pain or about to jump out of my skin in fearful anticipation of the next meal. i can handle myself all day and literally just ramble a little under my breath when we're going home at 9pm because it helps with the pain, and they're like "WHAT NOW we say something and you start sighing, what the hell did we do wrong this time??" which i guess is their genuine answer to the situation so i got what i wanted, i didn't control their reactions, but i guess it's pretty disappointing anyway.

and i can't really tell them because hey, how is that conversation gonna go? mom, dad, living with you is unbearable, all of my life you've done nothing but hurt me despite your best loving intentions, and i honestly don't think we're ever gonna fully repair that. cheers. i can't fucking do that to them. i've been the worst child to deal with my entire life i can't do that i just have to hold on until i move out anyway. it itches SO BAD to hurt them to blame them to throw every nasty thing i've ever wanted to yell at them to push them down the stairs and run away in the middle of the night. but i can't because they've done their best. genuinely. i wouldn't have handled it better if i had to parent kid-me. i don't think there's any right answer to a situation like that. i just can't wait until i can live for myself and not for walking around eggshells being the normal kid my parents never got to have now that i can force myself to. it feels like i try my best to give them respect and foster a good mutually-trusting relationship with them, and they don't give back anything different in return. and i do think part of that is that i'm WAAAAAY too in my own head about it and i have massive "nobody is allowed in the kitchen when i'm there" syndrome except my entire existence is the kitchen and anything i do besides "staying the usual unshowered neet disappointment in my room" being seen by my parents feels to me like if walking around naked in public. like how people ask out as a joke, like HA you really believe you could be more than a depressed piece of shit, but you're really nothing more than a pathetic failure barely keeping up the mask of a normal person. and that is totally my responsability to deal with except idk seems like every time i step out it turns out to be a disaster. and the coming down is even harsher, having to turn back into some featureless zombie picking and choosing what interests are undisruptive and inoffensive enough for me to tell my parents about it. i havent even managed to try to get into a sport club because the thought of my parents knowing this and that about my schedule and knowing i do sports and what sports i do and perhaps asking about it just makes my skin crawl. and i can't be spending their money, and i don't have a job, so.

they wont leave me the hell alone, and i can't refuse else i just become defined by my avoidance of them. it's rotting in my bed without any of the recharging. i don't fucking want to eat dinner with them, but else WHAT DO I DO? the kitchen is upstairs, upstairs is where they are, especially during dinner time but also they can hear i'm there if they're awake at home. and i owe them to spend that time bonding w them since we never did, and it's pretty much the only time my mom is home. i don't want to go with them to random events i don't really care about, because they're unenjoyable anyway since they're followed by MORE proximity and shit, but i kinda have to because i owe them that after i was nothing but a fucking emotional leech for my entire life, and also if i don't go to these events with them i go NOWHERE, cf the problem with my parents seeing anything about me mentionned above.

you might notice i've been saying "they" the whole time, rest assured, i mean my mom, or the united parental authority driven by my mom. i barely even have a dad anyway, i have a guy who lives in the same house and comes when my mom calls family reunion time, but spends his entire time every day following his own intellectual pursuits while floating through every actualy physical situation he's in. he barely listens. he barely reacts. he's not stupid or wholly incompetent, he functions alone pretty well, but in most situations in life he just stands to the side and goes "damn" whenever anything would require a reaction. i'm not really sure he fully realizes (or cares) that his actions impact other people. it scares me to be like him. i know how similar i am to him, and i really really hope i don't end up hurting anyone by being like that.

[gobbluthbutagirl]

i have been experiencing a near-total loss of appetite for three full weeks now and if this issue does not magically resolve itself within the next 12 days i’ll be going without cake on my birthday for the second year in a row. sad!

[plutonianrising]

while the cat’s away a.k/k.k

pairing: akaashi x kenma x f!reader

wc: 4.5k

description: akaashi shouldn’t have left his two brats home alone for so long

a/n: this was v much inspired by that “i think you deserve two boyfriends” tiktok so thank that guy for this

cw: fem!reader, dom!akaashi, switch!reader, switch!kenma, established poly relationship, safe word check-ins, rules, overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, threesome, cum-eating, aftercare implied

MINORS DNI PLS

Sometimes it can get boring when it’s just you and Kenma at home for the day. You know he’s usually busy streaming and it's usually fine since Keiji keeps you entertained. However, this morning Keiji insisted on handling the grocery shopping alone, saying it’d just be a quick in-and-out trip and he didn’t want Kenma to wake up left by himself. It was hours later now and Kenma had kissed you good morning and swiftly turned to his games. Even on his “day off” he’s playing with some of his friends. You’re kicking yourself now for having recently bought his current fixation. 

“Kyaaannmaaaa” you whine loudly and flop onto his lap. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as he moves his controller closer to his face. It’s almost like you’re not even there. You wouldn’t even be sure that he noticed you if it weren’t for the faint furrow in his brows and grimace on his lips. 

“Kenma you’ve been playing since you woke up. Can’t you take a little break? I don’t even think I’ve seen you eat yet,” you try to command even just a bit of his attention.

“I’m not hungry.” He grumbles. “And can’t you see I’m in the middle of a match? I can’t just leave whenever.” 

Your pouting turns to a full-blown scowl as his eyes leave his game for a moment to peek down at you; he realizes how quickly you’re reaching the threshold of your patience.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry. I know you hate when I play on my days off. Just sit in my lap and we’ll go do something else once this round finishes.” He backtracks. You roll your eyes but maneuver yourself so that you're straddling him with his arms around your waist and yours around his shoulders. You lean your head in the crook of his neck, gaining comfort from the smell of his shampoo even while your boyfriend is annoying the shit out of you. 

“You said one more match like 3 matches ago. I thought we had a rule about lying.” You say even though you know he really isn’t listening to you. You can faintly hear one of his friends talking in his headset. You thread your fingers through his grown-out hair absent-mindedly and open your phone with your other hand to text Keiji.

Kenma broke a rule. I’m gonna punish him. See you when you get home x

You’ve barely sent the message before you’re pressing down on his lap a little harder. You wiggle your ass as if feigning trying to get comfortable. You shift Kenma’s headset so that he can hear you whisper in his ear.

“Kenmaaa…” You trail off. “What happened to no lying hmm?” He stiffens and a cruel smile creeps its way onto your face. You place a hand on his chest and continue playing with his hair with the other, trying to coax him. You both know he can’t say anything with his friends on the other side and you relish in the fiery glare he shoots you.

You love how easy Kenma is to fluster. A breathy whisper against his neck. A sharp nip at his neck. It takes little to nothing to set him off. Even when you’re being punished and are forced to simply watch Keiji take him relentlessly. Kenma is breathtaking to you. When he’s annoying you. When he’s shyly grabbing your hand or Keiji’s to fall asleep. When he’s fucked out beyond recognition. At this point you’re probably obsessed over even the red that tints his ears when he begins getting overwhelmed. 

Sometimes you have to pay for your teasing but you know today at least, you’re fully in command. You know Kenma is too stubborn to shut off his game in the middle of a match with everyone on. After 3 years with him and Keiji, you know he’s a high-risk-high-reward kind of person. He was going to try his hardest to get through whatever you put him through without making a sound. Double or nothing.

“You remember how to tell me to stop, right?” You whisper again and press a kiss to his ear. Kenma nods.

“Hmm I wonder if I should make you say it out loud with everyone on call? Yea they’d think it’s random but better safe than sorry right?” You tease him. He shivers and goosebumps appear on his skin as you lightly drag your nails up his neck. He grunts softly and rolls his hips up to press against you. His eyes are begging you to drop that idea. Your wicked smile grows and you peck his lips. 

“You’re right baby. There’s already plenty of time to embarrass you. Don’t forget to talk to your friends on call Kenma. Wouldn’t want them thinking something happened to you.” You chuckle darkly.

You place your hands under his shirt and slowly slide up until you reach his nipples. They’re already hard from the chill of your room paired with his thin t-shirt. You press against one, softly toying with it with the pad of your finger. You watch as he tries to remain stone faced. His ears are a dead giveaway, though. You kiss all over his neck as he responds to someone. They’re feather-soft teases. You want him to have to beg to be marked by you.

“Kenma you’re so greedy..” You growl and pinch his nipple. He startles a bit at the surprise but quickly regains his composure. “You wanted this didn’t you? Too shy to say outright you wanted me to fuck you while you played?”

 “Or is it that you just like riling me up?” You tease him by grinding down onto his hardening dick. You roll both his nipples between your fingertips now, occasionally pinching them.

“Wanted the best of both worlds and even while I’m giving it to you, you can’t even be bothered to make those cute sounds you know I like so much.” You sigh, feigning sadness. You grind against him harder as you play with his nipples. You tease him further by kissing up his neck. It’s hard not to relish in his slight trembles when you blow cool air against his ear. While your focus is mostly on pleasuring Kenma, you cannot help the soft sighs that escape you. Seeing him struggle to control the stuttering of his hips only eggs you on. 

“How loud do you think I can be before they can all hear me?” You smirk and let out a quiet moan. Kenma’s eyes widen in panic and he slaps a hand over your mouth quickly. You slowly lick his palm while you maintain eye contact. His golden eyes are transfixed on yours, searching for any measure of mercy. He was kidding himself thinking he would find any. Many sessions with Keiji had trained you to follow through when you committed to something. 

Kenma slowly pulls his hand away from your face and you lean in closer. Your lips are just barely brushing against his as you mutter “Either you beg for me with everyone on the call. Or I just keep cumming by myself.”

He knows it’s a promise and not a threat. In terms of stamina, you have always had him beat, making over stimulating him a pretty frequent occurrence. At the beginning he and Keiji would switch out when it got to be too much for him but you two quickly learned that even with tears streaming down his face, his one thought is to satisfy you. You grab his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks a little. With the other you cover his mic. “What’s our word so I know you know it?” 

“It’s peaches. I’m ok. I want this,” he rushes out quietly, growing even redder. It’s this neediness that you so deeply craved. Kenma was quiet but he wasn’t exactly shy. When he really wanted something, he would push past his reservations to get it. And finally, right now, he wants you more than anything else. 

You finally kiss him deeply and Kenma reciprocates eagerly. To your content, his hips roll harder against you when your tongue enters his mouth. 

“Kenma? Why aren’t you moving, let’s go!” You hear someone say. You pull away from Kenma so that he can answer and he furrows his brow, obviously not ready for it to be over.

“Lev maybe if you quit worrying about what I’m doing you’d get more kills.” He quietly snips. You wince and giggle at his harsh tone, almost feeling bad about being the reason behind his expression. You lean close so you can speak into Kenma’s mic and as you talk you’re also taking a beat to fully appreciate how flushed and pretty Kenma looks. His mouth is wet and slightly pink and though his eyes are half-lidded he’s looking at you with full expectancy. It’s enough to pierce your heart. You aren’t sure if you’re actually punishing him or spoiling him rotten.

“Sorry about that boys” You giggle into the mic. Kenma’s mouth twitches downward a little when he hears how his friends’ react to your voice on mic. “Please forgive Kenma, I distracted him a little.” 

You don’t really pay attention to how they respond, turning your focus to slipping off Kenma’s boxers and your panties. You toss them somewhere across the room. As you slick Kenma’s dick with your wetness, it crosses your mind that Keiji could come home at any moment. You haven’t even looked to see how Keiji responded to your text. You’re probably screwed if he told you to wait until he gets back but you can’t focus on that with Kenma looking at you so eagerly, using every inch of his self-control to not fuck up into you.

Placing him at your entrance, you hold his gaze as you slide onto him. You take him all the way, forcing yourself to be just as quiet as he is. You let him try and focus on his game as you slowly roll your hips, silently screaming at how full he makes you feel. You fixate on the way his brows furrow and his breath quietly hitches. Kenma’s face is fully flushed as you ride him, not willing to give in or lose his game. You smirk and turn around slightly to look at his game. It brings you a weird sense of satisfaction that, even though he’s playing like normal, his dick is already twitching like he’s close. 

“Kyanma when’d you get so sensitive?” you tease quietly. “You been secretly touching yourself recently? Huh?”

“I-I” he begins to stutter out indignantly, trying not to pant too loudly. You cover the mic one more time. “I w-wouldn’t dare. J-just feels too good.”

You continue rolling your hips, reaching up with your other hand to palm your own breast. You don’t even try to resist the tightness building inside you. You let out a low moan as you shudder around him, your walls clenching around Kenma’s dick so deliciously that you can see the air choked in his throat as he stifles his own moans. As promised, you fuck him through your orgasm. His trembling makes it so much harder for you to relent. You want him to cum so badly, forcing you to turn off his game and fuck him until he’s a sobbing mess. 

He does so almost as soon as the almost obsessive thought crosses your mind. He holds you tight against him and buries his face in your collar, biting down hard in a final act of defiance. You yank Kenma’s head back by his hair and he’s glaring at you like his face and chest aren’t completely flushed and his pupils aren’t blown out. You let go of his hair and simply smirk and your anger makes it so much more fun to force shut down his computer. 

You wrap a hand around his neck and squeeze. “Kenma’s been such a naughty fucking kitty today haven’t you?” 

You slam down on his dick again and Kenma moans loudly this time. You aren’t sure if it’s from the pain of being overstimulated or simply the fact that he no longer faces the threat of embarrassment. Regardless, you know he’s going to be begging for that feeling again by the time you’re through with him.

You hear the front door of your apartment open and the familiar jangle of Keiji’s keys and soft footsteps. Keiji’s home but he puts the groceries away first. You know this is him giving you both time to collect yourselves and be on your knees somewhere for punishments. You know this but Kenma doesn’t look keen on moving and your heart is already beating in anticipation at how much further you could take this.

You hear Keiji’s footsteps grow louder and in seconds he’s right in front of you, analyzing what he’s seeing: an unplugged computer, Kenma slowly regaining his composure, and you right in his lap, lazily looking over at him with a smug little smile on your face. 

“Hey baby.” You can tell from one look what Keiji told you in response to your text. You can't help the way your body shudders in expectancy as he stares at you sternly. You kiss Kenma’s neck gently as you meet Keiji’s gaze, knowing full well you won’t be ready for the punishments he will be handing out.

“You had no intention of listening to me, did you?” Keiji says fondly as he walks over and stands behind you. He slides his hands around you: one pulling your against him, the other guiding your head up. His touch is gentle, his fingers moving you more so as a suggestion than a command. You struggle to keep your eyes open and on his beautiful features. Dark hair that curls in the strangest spots fell slightly forward. The sharpness in his deep blue eyes contrasts the loving way he strokes your cheek.

“Mmm… not really. Mmsorry ‘Kaashi but it’s so… much easier to just ask you for forgiveness. You’re so sweet to us.” Your words slur a bit and you smile up at your other boyfriend. You secretly wonder if you’re making the right call by pushing his buttons further. But oh well.

“Oh it's so much easier is it?” Keiji asks, his voice takes on an icy tone. He finally glances towards Kenma, slightly dazed as he watches you both. “Kenma do you agree?” 

You all know that no matter what Kenma says, he’s already in deep shit for going along with you. However, there is still a right and wrong answer. He could either a) agree and punish you with Keiji and receive a lighter punishment or b) side with you. The two of you make eye contact as he weighs his options. Memories of you sandwiched between them, mind hazy as they treated you like little more than a toy flood you. You vividly remember the time Keiji sent you over the edge repeatedly while you choked on Kenma’s dick, tears forming from how desperate for air you were. And the way they gazed down at you with your panties shoved in your mouth, so fully focused on making you scream that you feel like you’d been caught by two beasts.

You would never openly admit how much option A makes your mouth water but you don’t have to. Kenma doesn’t miss the way your thighs try to squeeze together, only to be met by his in between. Or the way your breathing has slightly picked up again. Or how you tightened around his still-sensitive dick the moment the thought crossed your mind.

“Yea ‘Kaashi… you’ve been really nice lately.” Kenma looks between you both and smiles before pressing close and embracing you. He holds onto part of your shirt and nuzzles into your neck. You don’t care if he was saying we’re in this together or I'm not letting you get all the attention after you ruined my game. Regardless, you still get to see Kenma trembling right next to you with puffy lips slightly parted, ready to beg, ready to need, ready to please.

Keiji stifles a laugh behind you, covering it quickly before petting both you and Kenma’s hairs. “I didn’t realize I’d been so gracious to my little brats. I guess that means you think it’s finally my turn for a reward?”

“What do you want us to do Master?” You ask coyly. 

“Well for one I want you two properly seated somewhere on the floor.” Keiji says coldly. He moves away and you and Kenma quickly take your places. On your knees. Eyes expectant.

“Kitty you look like she put you through hell” Keiji coos at Kenma, looking down at him while he strokes his cheek. You huff.

“I didn’t even-”

“Did I say you could speak sweetheart?” Keiji cuts off your attempt to explain and you know better to try any further. He doesn’t even need to look towards you to keep you in check “Kenma. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened.”

“S-she got mad at me for being on my game so long that she rode me while my mic was on and wouldn’t let me c-cum unless I… begged with everyone on the line.” Kenma looks up at Keiji pleadingly. 

“And did you?” Keiji prods. 

“D-did I?” Kenma splutters in surprise. The red flush on his body seems permanent at this point.

“Well you obviously came. I can still see it leaking out of her all over our floor. So. Did you beg?” Keiji doesn’t let Kenma avoid his gaze, leaning forward with a firm grip on his cheeks.

“N-no.” 

“No. Instead you bit her.” 

Of course he noticed that.

“So let me see if I got this right. Instead of accepting your punishment like a good boy or conceding… you decided to take advantage of her kindness and my absence. God it’s like you want that pretty ass of yours lashed until you can’t even sit in your gaming chair.”

Kenma takes in a sharp inhale, trembling slightly. You gulp in turn, knowing that even though Kenma was worse, you aren’t safe from reprimand either.

Keiji fixes his sharp gaze on you and finally acknowledges you. “Did I agree to letting you punish Kenma?”

“No Sir.” You answer quietly, trying to keep the shivers threatening to expose your excitement at bay. 

“Take off your shirt and lie on the bed.” He sighs and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You do as you’re told, removing your oversized sweater as you climb onto the king-sized mattress.

“It seems that I’ve been too lenient with the both of you so really the fault lies with me. Allow me to take responsibility for that now.” Keiji says. He stands before you and takes in your form, surely noting how much you’re quivering before lifting and spreading your knees, leaving you on full display. He turns back to Kenma. 

“Kitty you should take this chance to properly apologize. Come clean up the mess you made.”

Kenma is just as compliant, quick to kneel where Keiji orders him right in front of your dripping pussy. He can’t even attempt a front, immediately capturing your clit in his mouth. You moan and buck a little at the sudden sensation.

“Easy there Kitty. Take your time.” Keiji chides softly. Kenma hums in response and opts to lick a long stripe against you instead. He tries his hardest to pace himself as he mouths you, gently pushing his tongue in between your folds. 

Keiji opens your bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube, squirting some on his own hand and onto Kenma’s ass. You feel the shiver that rips through Kenma as the cold gel runs down him. He takes a quick second to let out a shuddering breath but doesn’t dare look back. You, however, fully stare as Keiji gingerly begins fucking Kenma with his middle finger. Kenma quakes at the feeling and Keiji revels at the sight of you two and how your moans and his combine in the air and fill the room. 

“Baby you’re so shameless” Keiji mewls “taking so much pleasure from all the chaos you caused.”

You can’t even argue his point. Every thought of disagreeing had left your head the moment Kenma’s lips had touched your throbbing pussy. All you can do is whine in response.

Keiji doesn’t take his eyes off of you when puts his hand on the back of Kenma’s head and presses him down further. “Make sure you get all the way inside. Only bad boys leave someone else to clean up after them.”

Kenma simply whimpers in response and thrusts his tongue inside you, trying his hardest to move his hips to meet Keiji’s pace at the same time. You can tell Keiji’s purposely changing it to make it harder for him. You continue to tense up helplessly and barely contain your writhing with the very last bits of control over yourself. You know better than to cum right now but the waves of pleasure rushing over you and the sight Keiji fingering Kenma open are quickly clouding your brain.

“Please...” you beg, aching for release. Keiji looks up at you and smiles softly, an utter betrayal when his next words leave his lips.

“Kenma, stop now.” 

You both whine and turn your attention to Keiji, facial expressions mirroring each other. He pets Kenma’s hair and plants two quick kisses on his wet mouth. You sit up and pout.

“Keiji, Sir, please, I wanna cum so badly.” You beg, head spinning a bit from the sudden loss.

“Oh so now you acknowledge that I’m in charge.” He says and moves to kiss your cheek next, He places feather light kisses against your jaw as you whine and whimper in protest. Drawing close to your ear, he whispers icily “I have half the mind to fuck your pretty little throat so raw you wouldn’t be able to speak for weeks without regretting testing me. But I’m sweet, remember? So listen before I forget that.”

All your dissent dies in your throat and you stiffen. 

“Ready to be a good little girl for me now?” He inquires in his normal tone. It’s almost scary how easily he can flip between the two. All you can do is nod and accept the deep kiss he offers as a reward, moaning into his mouth. “Good, now get on the floor next to Kenma. Wanna see you two suck me off.”

You quickly do as you’re told and sit on your knees next to Kenma while Keiji slides off his pants and underwear. With Keiji sitting on the bed in between you, you let a thick glob of spit fall on his dick and work it down with your hand, slowly stroking him. Kenma positions himself and takes Keiji’s head in between his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks him down.

“You two have been so naughty today and now look at you..” Keiji says breathily and pushes your hair back away from your faces. “Sharing my dick so nicely with each other.” 

You and Kenma kiss sloppily around the head of his dick, letting your tongues coat Keiji further in spit. Even though you and Kenma bicker more often, the one thing you two agree on without fail is that Keiji looks the hottest when you service him together. It’s how his eyes focus fully on the looks you give him, full of trust and devotion. How he’s always sure to praise equally as he grips whatever or whoever is nearest to gain some kind of grounding. 

“Neither of you is getting my dick today... but you can make each other cum. Should be enough, right? Since you two were so impatient you couldn’t even wait for me.” Keiji teases in between his groans. You try to shove down your disappointment as you use your free hand to reach for Kenma’s dick. You pump him in time with the rhythm you manage to form with Keiji’s large dick in your throat. Your eyes burn but you try to keep down your gags and moans as Kenma starts rubbing your clit fervently, wanting instead to clearly hear how he and Keiji sound. His touch is vengeful, a punishment for putting him in this mess and you nearly see stars from the feeling of his sticky fingers circling your most sensitive spots.

“P-please Sir, t-this time I really can’t hold it,” Kenma whimpers, looking utterly destroyed with tears clinging to his lashes and a trail of spit still connecting him to Keiji’s dick. 

“If you think you can keep servicing us while you cum then go ahead baby, but you better keep moving.” Keiji permits and it’s all Kenma needs to cry out and shoot out ropes of his cum all over your hand. He continues his ministrations against you and Keiji and soon it’s your own hips that are stuttering. You do not have Kenma’s level of control so you try to shove down your incoming orgasm. 

“I need you to cum Sir please, please please. I-I won’t last. Please I want you to cover us with your sticky cum” you beg. You look up at him from under your lashes as you go back to mouthing him and feel him throb in between your lips.

“Yes Sir pleaseee. Want your cum all over.” Kenma adds, his words slurring together. If he couldn’t focus on both speaking and pleasuring his partners he would simply put his all into the latter.

“Want my cum? Want Sir to make a mess all over those pretty little faces?” Keiji groans, bucking his hips into your mouth.

“God yes please.. Please!” Kenma continues and Keiji takes his dick out of his mouth to stroke himself over your faces. Kenma is steadily bringing you to your own edge and you both can’t help but open your mouths in hopes to catch Keiji’s cum on your tongue while you orgasm. With a shout, Keiji begins cumming, spurting all over you and Kenma. 

“Go ahead sweetheart, fucking cum right now” Keiji hisses and you convulse as you finally let go, holding onto his leg as your orgasm rips through you. It’s hard to focus on anything besides how easily Keiji and Kenma make you feel like you’re in heaven. 

“Now.. have we all learned our lessons?” Keiji utters once he’s down from his high. The sight of Kenma and you leaning against his legs for support makes his heart swell. 

“Yes.. Sir.” You two manage to get the words out. 

“See I knew my little ones were smart.” He coos gingerly moves to first pick you up and place you onto the bed and then Kenma before grabbing wet wipes. “Now let’s get you all cleaned up.”

[your-local-vamp]

Ahhhhh!! It’s my very first story! I’m so excited and nervous at the same time lolol. I had a creepy stalker vamp idea the other day and here we are! I usually write stories with male vamps and female humans, but boi on boi action got the best of me this time. This is also (I think?) the first story that I don’t use actual names for the characters. I actually prefer it like this, it just adds more spookiness! Anyway, I rly hope that someone will read this and enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :3

Btw this story contains some explicit themes (knives, blood, stalking, etc) so make sure to check the tags before reading!

Aura

“Sup, bro!”

I can already see my two friends waving and yelling at me from a distance. I haven’t been out much lately, but they happen to be very persuasive. So here I am, running towards them, thinking I’d be late otherwise. I finally reach them, gasping for some needed fresh air. “Dude, why were you even running?” one of them decided to ask.

“I’m-Sorry-Missed-Bus-.“ I can barely breathe, but try to utter some words regardless. “Yeahhhh, whatever you say man. Anyway, you ready to take off?” Air has finally returned to my lungs and breathing seems to go smoother now. I smile at them. “Yes, let’s go.” We continue our way forward, but something makes me look back over my shoulder. Not this again… Nothing’s there, but I can’t help but look anyway. “Hey, are you okay?” My friends have walked back to see why I stopped.

“I-I’m fine. Let’s just go.” I won’t hesitate to walk away from this feeling. The same feeling I’ve been having for a month, if not more. I can’t really explain it. It’s just like some dark aura is around me all the time. But whenever I look back, it’s like it was never there in the first place. I don’t dare tell anyone about it, what if they think I’m insane or something? So, I just forget about it whenever it happens. I will have to do the same now.

*a few days later*

There’s nothing else on TV, so I decided to watch some stupid show. It’s at season 8 and I honestly have no idea what’s happening, but I’m on the verge of falling asleep anyway. My eyes get heavier by the second. I hear a loud sound coming from the kitchen. I instantly get up, any sign of sleepiness now long gone.

While my heart is rapidly beating in my chest, I quietly walk towards the kitchen and prepare for the worst. Ready to throw hands, I jump in the doorway. But there’s nothing there. I could’ve sworn that the sound was like someone was in here with me. I check every single room in the house, but to no avail. No-one seems to be here. I really need to chill down. First the weird feelings, now this. I sigh deeply. I should probably just go to sleep.

*several weeks pass by*

Heavy plastic bag full with groceries in hand, I walk back to my apartment. Grocery shopping is one of the many things I hate in life, but I need to get food one way or another. Thank god my house isn’t that far from the store. I tend to get very hesitant about going outside most of the time, but the aura hasn’t been around at all the past few days. I was a bit confused at first as to why it had stopped so sudden, but I decided to just take it by heart and go on with my life. I’m glad that I don’t have to worry anymore. Ah, I can see my apartment already. I walk a bit faster, being a little too excited about the microwavable instant meal I get to eat when I get there.

Now upstairs, I open the front door and close it behind me. I quickly walk to the kitchen and drop the heavy bag on the counter. Phew, I made it. I quickly put the meal in the microwave, being unable to wait any longer. “Guess I’ll wait for it in the living room.” I say to myself.

“What the fuck?!” Going to the living room was a terrible idea. I nearly got a heart attack, seeing that a complete stranger is sitting down on my couch. Any person in their right mind would probably get out and call for help right now. But I can’t for some reason. It’s like I’m frozen in place. “Quiet it down please, Darling. We don’t wish to alarm anyone, now do we?” the stranger calmly says.

The man still remains seated on my couch. An emotionless expression present on his face. He seems to be around mid twenties, about the same age as me. I can’t help but take an observing look at him. Pitch black hair, the brightest blue eyes, clothed in all-black. His charisma is piercing through the tense atmosphere. He seems to be totally unbothered about his presence here. I, on the other hand, am not so happy about this entire situation.

I’m not sure whether his intentions are good or bad, but I’ve got a funny feeling that he’s not here to drink a cup of coffee with me. I need some kind of protection just in case he decides to attack me. The knife! I remember having left a knife on the counter, after opening the packaging of my food. I’m thinking about what’s the best way to get to the kitchen, never losing eye contact with the stranger during the progress. Alright, just run there, grab it, and be ready to defend yourself.

I take a short sprint towards the kitchen, knife already being in my sight. I reach out to it, but something unexpected happens. The stranger, who was seated in the couch just a second ago, now stands in front of me, holding the only object I’ve got within my reach to protect myself with. “H-How…?” I look at him, being shocked out of my mind. How did he get here so fast? That’s impossible. “Oh, Darling. You disappoint me ever so much.” the stranger sighs. What could possibly disappoint him right now?

“Why are you here.” It’s more of a statement than it is a question. “I get to meet you at last, but you seem to be unhappy about that.” he responds. At last? The gears in my brain finally catch up. It was him. That feeling, the aura. It was him following me all this time. Confusion mixed with a lot of anger take over my body. “Ah, my Darling gets it now. What a beautiful sight this is.” He really needs to get rid of that stupid smile of his, or I’ll wipe it off for him. “Why? Why the fuck have you been stalking me?” I spit. A dangerous glint of anger appears in his eyes. However, I will not back up now. I want answers. “I thought that you were different.” he says, through gritted teeth. “From who?”

“The other humans.” He’s comparing me to other… ‘humans’? “You see, you wanted to grab this knife here. To ‘protect’ yourself, I presume.” He brings the object close to my throat, now obviously dominating me. I gasp when the sharp blade touches my skin ever so slightly. “But not once did you give me a sign that you wanted to grab it. The others always showed that they wanted to make a run for it. How very foolish of them.” he says with a smile. “And you’re disappointed, because…?” My comment carries a lot of sass with it, but at this point I don’t care about the consequences. The stranger didn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, it made him burst out into laughter. “You have asked the two most infamous questions. ‘Why?’ and ‘how?’. It pisses me off.” he says, while still smiling. I seriously can’t read him. He’s exceptionally happy, even though I know that he’s very angry at me.

“You never answered.” I say. The stranger finally drops the knife on the counter, but doesn’t hesitate to take a step closer to me. “This is why I like you. You’re afraid, but trying so hard not to show me.” he says. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?” He grabs my chin in between his thumb and index finger and lifts it up, forcing me to look at him. His eyes, which once were a beautiful blue hue, have now turned into the most spine-chilling dark red. Not to mention, he has now bared his teeth as well, showing me 2 pointy fangs. I’d be lying if I said that he doesn’t look extremely intimidating. “You know, the movies are all wrong. We don’t coexist with you humans. We kill you without mercy.”

“Y-You’re a v-vampire…?” I can’t help but stutter, fear is taking over me at last. “Obviously.” The stranger is glowing with pride. He probably loves scaring his prey like this. “Vampires aren’t real.” The air grows even more tense than it was before, if that’s even possible. “Trust me, Darling. I am very real. I can hurt you in more ways than you can imagine.”

“Then answer me this. Why me?” I really don’t want to piss him off even more now that I know what he’s capable of, but I have to know why. “I wonder why you’re so desperate to have an answer to that question.” I gather up all my courage to respond to him. “Like you said, you can hurt me in many ways. And that’s ultimately what you’re here for, isn’t it? You’re going to kill me. So my last wish is for you to answer me.” It’s quiet for a while. He just looks at me. After what seems like an eternity, he smiles. “I see.” Is all he decides to say. The smile never disappears. I feel like what I said provoked him even more.

“You know, now that I think about it, I have a much more fun idea in mind.” My unpleasant gut feeling seems to have been proven right. “Sorry, Darling. This is going to hurt.” I can’t say or do anything, or he has already taken yet another step towards me. He leans my head back and buries his fangs deep inside my neck. His actions are quick and eager.

I try to get him off me, but his grasp on me is too strong. These powers are definitely something inhuman. “Ngh!” Sounds of pure agony escape my mouth. A huge amount of blood is getting sucked out of my body. I can feel that I’m staring to lose consciousness. I reach for the knife on the counter, but it again fails to protect me. The man violently grabs my wrist to prevent me from harming him, and applies a good amount of pressure to it. I can’t help but drop the knife. It falls on the floor with a loud metal clink. He raises his head and looks at me. His red eyes are clearly visible.

“Tsk. Did you really think that you could do that?” He smirks at me. “You’re not going to get away with this.” He nonchalantly continues sucking my blood. “S-Stop it. P-Please…” I use every last bit of strength I have left to resist him, but soon after, my body gives up. My eyes shut themselves, but I can still feel the stranger lifting me up and exiting my apartment. It doesn’t take long for everything to go dark.

*???*

“…has been missing for 5 months now. He was last seen walking towards his apartment after being at the grocery store. The police has released pictures of blood drops and a knife on the floor in the victim’s apartment. ‘There is an obvious sign of struggle.’ one of the policemen states. They are currently investigating the crime scene and the blood samples are being researched at the laboratory. A highly praised detective is on this case as well. ‘To the people who did this: turn yourselves in, before we have to come find you.’ the detective said during an interview. If you have seen the victim or know someone who has, please call your local police station. Any information about the victim or the culprit is much needed. That was it for today’s news. We’ll be back tomorrow at 8 PM. For now, good evening everyone!”

[neerasrealm]

Ghost Hunt - Part 1/2

the first of two stories about Liu getting roped into ghost hunting with some coworkers while trying to keep it a secret that the local cryptids are his family and friends. The Liu in this story isn’t homicidal Liu, just regular old Liu who survived Jeff’s attack and patched things up :) Minor tw for some cursing and offhand mentions of murder

Word count: 1117

"Yo, Liu!" I look up from my sandwich at the sound of someone calling my name. The caller is a coworker of mine. Vanessa. I smile at her as she walks over to me, trailed by another of our coworkers. Scott. She sits on the bench next to me and sighs exhaustedly. "Are you tired as shit too or is that just me?" She asks. 

"I guess I'm a little tired." I say. I've been mostly on cashier duty today, while she's been stocking shelves, so I guess it's reasonable that I'd be feeling okay. 

"I didn't sleep at all last night," Scott says from his spot on a stool next to me. "I kept hearing weird noises. Probably animals going through the trash or something."

"Or maybe it was a monster," Vanessa says with a grin. I look at her in surprise. "Something crawling out of the woods to come eat you!" 

Scott laughs. "Oh yeah, like the rake or whatever they call it?" 

"Excuse me, what?" I say. The- The Rake- as in- the dog man creature that lives in a tree in our backyard with Bob and seedeater?

"The Rake," Vanessa explains. "Is a cryptid. People say he breaks into your house and sits at the end of your bed, and when you look at him he pounces!" She grins and pushes me lightly for effect. I force a laugh while thinking about how I've seen Rake at the end of my bed multiple times. Each time I just tell him to leave and let me sleep. 

"You moved here from somewhere else, right Liu?" Scott asks. I nod. "So do you know much about the local rumours?"

"Well I mean-" oh geez how do I answer this? "Some stuff I guess? I know there's a pretty high murder rate and a lot of people go missing around here…" that's probably a safe answer right?

"Ohh the murders!" Vanessa looks excited. "We've got tons of cool serial killers around here!"

"What're you a true crime freak or something?" Scott asks. Vanessa rolls her eyes.

"No, but my brother is. We watch documentaries and stuff together. It's actually pretty interesting," Vanessa looks at me. "My favourite one is the Kidney Kreature case."

"You mean the Eyeless Ripper?" 

"Yeah he's got plenty of names," Vanessa looks from Scott to me again. "He's this masked dude, or maybe a creature of some kind, who breaks into people's homes and steals their kidney without them even knowing. He's like- a master surgeon or something. He doesn't kill very often though." 

Ah, EJ. The guy I was talking to about psychology only this morning. He's really chill and mostly eats pizza rolls and raw meat. But Vanessa only knows him as a weird serial killer. 

"That's boring though, he doesn't murder," Scott says, sipping from a can of soda. "Weren't there murders a while back where the killer carved smiles into the victims face?"

Oh god.

"Yeah! He carved messages in too. Like grocery lists and cryptic phrases."

Ohhhh god.

"Damn. Did they ever catch the guy?"

No. No they didn't. Because that murderer is my little brother. Jeff. Who stopped murdering because he turned a new leaf. And I'm very proud of him.

I just wish I could say that.

"Nah. But I watched a documentary about the guy! His name's Jeff, I think? And the mom of one of his victims talked about the days leading up to him snapping- apparently he beat her son up, like, completely unprovoked!"

"It was provoked!" I snap. Vanessa and Scott look at me in surprise. "I mean- I-I've seen a documentary about the guy too. He uh- didn't throw the first punch. The kid lied about Jeff attacking first apparently."

Nice save.

"Damn."

"Yeah documentaries like to lie sometimes." Scott finishes his soda and crushes the can in his hand. That'd be impressive if I didn't live with half a dozen other people with superhuman abilities and strength. "Cryptids are way cooler. And there's tons in the local area."

"You say that like they're real." Vanessa rolls her eyes and smirks as she talks. I suppress the urge to tell her that they are actually real and that one of them is the girl who buys entire shopping carts of popcorn, trail mix and instant ramen every month.

"Real or no, ya gotta admit this town has all the famous ones," Scott looks at me and grins. "You know The Slender Man, right Liu?"

I almost choke on the sandwich Slenderman made for me this morning.

"Uh- yeah, course I do." YEAH I DO SCOTT, I LIVE WITH HIM AND HIS FLOCK OF ADOPTIVE CHILDREN.

"He lives in the woods in this very town." Scott grins wider. "He targets children, leading them into the woods to eat them!"

Actually he's more likely to feed them but okay-

"Nah, I heard he goes after teens and turns them into his minions," Vanessa says. "That's why there's so many mysterious murderers that come and go, he's building an army!"

"Of kids?" Scott frowns at her, his nose scrunching. "That sounds pretty dumb to me."

"I mean maybe he ain't that smart." 

Without thinking I wheeze at the thought of Slender being anything but the smartest creature on earth. The two of them look at me.

"Sorry just-" shit shit shit- my eyes dart around as I try to come up with an excuse. "All of this sounds kinda crazy y'know?" I smile sheepishly. "There's no way all of that's real."

"I mean probably not, but weird shit does happen around here. Like a lot. You should watch yourself Liu." Vanessa says. I really don't have to watch myself, I have a protective younger brother with murderous tendencies. I'm fine.

"Yo, we should go cryptid hunting!" Scott suddenly exclaims.

"WHAT-" BAD IDEA BAD IDEA BAD IDEA AND THEY'RE LOOKING AT ME AGAIN SHIT- "That- that sounds like a bad idea!" I quickly say.

"What're you scared, Liu?" Vanessa leans in close, grinning at me. I gulp.

"Aw c'mon man you can't be scared!" Scott says. "You said they weren't real!"

"I-I just- think that being in the woods at night is asking for trouble, is all."

"Who said anything about night?" Vanessa smirks at me. God I shot myself in the foot there huh? 

"Night is a great idea!" Scott exclaims. I cringe. "How about...eight pm, this Sunday?" 

"I'm free." Vanessa leans back and smirks. "Sounds like a good way to kill an evening. I'll bring booze."

"Well Liu?" Scott has very bright eyes. Which is bad. Because he's staring at me very intensely.

"...Sure, I guess." 

This is all going to end so badly...

[amandaray-nature-vs-nurture]

Take a Mosey on Down the Diagnosis Trail

Was I depressed? How depressed? Was it “clinical” or “seasonal” or “major”? From what I remember, at first I was clinically depressed. Sprinkle some Zoloft on it.

I didn’t like taking the Zoloft and whatever else I was prescribed; didn’t like the notion of having to take pills to be “normal”. As I know now, that is not an uncommon sentiment. I am pretty sure I was diagnosed within those same few years as having some anxiety disorder, but it was not an “official” diagnosis at first. I remember going back and forth with trying to accept this diagnosis and take my medication when I was supposed to. I had access to the internet back then, but it wasn’t like it is now. Not for most of us, anyway. We didn’t think of searching for things online and definitely couldn’t just type a vague idea in the web address bar and get anything other than an error message. Back then, free AOL CD’s were everywhere by the thousands and I began collecting them by the pounds in my bag and would just hide them in random places all over any house or place of business I found myself at.

Within the same year of being released after my first committal, my sister got arrested after snitching on her own damn self and my mom and I moved to a one road, one grocery store, no red-light town. We lived in an itty-bitty house, my window looking out onto a massive lot for semi-trucks to back up and turn around in (at least, that’s all they ever did right there) at the cotton factory. I could jump out of my window and be in said lot before I even completed taking a single step. There were adventures to be had there many intoxicated nights (one more serious than the rest), of the infinite types of adventures that would have resulted in death in most other instances. I’m lucky to be alive. “Lucky” doesn’t even begin to describe it. I hear stories about young women or men just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or making risky decisions, and not making it out alive -- and I feel like absolute shit knowing that I dodged so many bullets and they did not.

So, as I was saying, my mom and I lived in this house -- just us -- and things steadily devolved. Meaning: there was absolutely zero psychiatric care during that time. Loads and loads of self-medication, and lots of Live LiveJournal-ing (I have tried to recover the account, to no avail). Our house was the house for getting fucked up. It makes my heart palpitate and my guts twist to write this, so I am lucky (there’s that word again) that this is not a story detailing many of the happenings of that wretched place, or any of the wretched places that came after. This house is where my addict tendencies became known to me in a way, and where I developed an eating disorder.

I was never diagnosed with an eating disorder, but my best friend at the time Meghan and I would see who could go the longest without eating while taking fists full of diet pills (I always gravitated toward Metabolife) that we’d stolen up the street. We lived for the Pro-Ana sites/blogs that were around back then and used their tips and tricks and thin-spiration images daily. We ended up purging together after eating anything. We’d drink hot water and punch each other in the gut after jumping around for a while. We were competitive regarding things like who could get the next bone to be more pronounced, and how much we were able to purge vs how much we ate/drank, clothing size, weight, measurements, our side-effect symptoms of whatever we were taking or doing or just the whole mess in general, who bruised easier, who cut the most, the deepest -- who cut the most fucked up saying into which area of skin and using what -- and even our stools (speaks incredible volumes about your diet).

Meghan and I were extremely codependent. I spent those years with her cycling through an infinite amount of possible diagnoses, but I was never helped in any way. I remember a few episodes of psychosis or mania or whatever it was that are mixed with significant chunks of amnesia in my memory. When I think back on the few close friendships I had as an undiagnosed and untreated (or wrongly diagnosed and wrongly treated) person, I imagine that to the people who found themselves stuck in my orbit -- the people who found themselves hypnotized by my incredible vulnerability mixed with utter recklessness and abandon… it must have been awful for them. Especially when they eventually snapped out of their trance and saw what was happening to them because of my disastrous and dangerous ways. My willingness to go as low as one could imagine, at the blink of an eye. I annihilated souls one at a time -- but, for the very clear record, they were always willing participants. I never forced anyone’s hand. Maybe I obliterated the very essence of people, but by that point, they all chose their fates to be intertwined with my own.

In that itty-bitty house next to the cotton factory, my mom ended up abandoning me with a guy I had been dating for a couple of weeks, at most, and his mother ended up taking me in. I only have a few solid memories of that traumatic experience, as well as for the years that ensued at Robert’s house. I lived there, hurting myself in secret and having panic attacks and floating through the world only kind of remembering getting from one year to the next. There was more self-medicating and spiraling. Some cock fights. What I am saying is, there were a whole lot of years that I went untreated.

The next diagnosis that I remember is a Bipolar Disorder diagnosis. I have no idea if I was allegedly Bipolar I or II, but there were other diagnoses such as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety, Panic Disorder, and PTSD. Everyone uses OCD so loosely, “Omg, I know; I’m (or someone else they know is) so OCD about…” That, or they think that everything I do is going to be immaculate and organized;  perfect. They don’t talk about the intrusive thoughts or the weird obsessions that no one can know about or the compulsive rituals we do that often have nothing to do with anything but if they don’t get done, something awful will happen and it will be all our fault. I remember when I was young I had the literal Fear of God in me. I was obsessed with death and Heaven and Hell. Thought about it all the time. I was told that God heard our thoughts and that he could always see us. Every night when I would lay down to go to bed, I forced myself to think of every single possible infraction I made that day and to beg God’s forgiveness for it while clutching my Precious Moments Bible. I lost a lot of sleep due to this and so it became increasingly more difficult to stay awake each night. I would pinch and scratch and slap myself to stay awake and beg for forgiveness. At some point I also began praying for the health and safety of every single family member I could think of and then for the health and safety of every person I could recall in my memory from being out and about during the day. I spent entire nights probing my memories for every possible soul who needed my prayers in order to be safe. I had to cycle through them, imagining God cupping his hand down around their home like a shield to keep bad guys from breaking in and to keep fires from happening or violent weather or someone from inside the home from hurting them or aliens from abducting and probing them (Fire in the Sky ruined my life that extra layer) or just whatever else my mind could come up with to be terrified of happening. I had to do this, and I had to do it as many times as humanly possible every night. I would, of course, pass out sometimes. I’d awake with a jolt and grab for my Bible. But, wait… what if it is upside down?! I would think. Surely there are crosses and other things within this Bible that would only invite evil and ensure my spot in Hell if inverted?!  And so I would get up, turn the light on, and check. Getting out of bed every time I was unsure whether or not the Bible was facing the correct way was exhausting -- more exhausting than this whole thing already was. I came up with a solution: tie a cord from the string on my light to the rail of my daybed. That barely lasted a night because I was convinced -- despite the cord being nowhere near slack enough -- that the shit would get wrapped around my neck and kill me (and I would likely die with an inverted Bible in my hands, before I could finish my prayers). Solution? Super-glue a penny into the top left corner inside the front cover of the Bible so that I could just feel in the dark which way the hateful thing was facing. Problem solved (still have the thing).

The next diagnosis I had was Bipolar with Rapid Cycling (maybe some of the readers can see where this is going at this point). Also, the PTSD was bumped up to C (complex)-PTSD. I was put on mood stabilizers, lithium, some new anti-psychotic that was promoted as something else through the commercials on television and anxiety medications. I was in my early twenties at this time. Maybe mid. No later than mid. I had lost my mind after the death of a loved one and uprooted my life with Aidyn to move to Savannah at the petitioning of a couple I had met while I worked at Taco Mac. The wife worked there with me, and the husband came up to see her a few times. He was a tattoo artist and had found work in Savannah. They had outed themselves as swingers to me and requested my presence in their bed more than once. Oh, and they were also the most intensely religious people I’d ever met in real life. I was told that I’d have a job in the tattoo shop so I talked a coworker, Christine, into going down there with me to scout an apartment and “interview” at the shop. Fast forward to meeting my husband and a while with him, having Shane -- There’s a whole lot of dirty and dangerous detail in there, with another couple of stints in hospitals, and a whole lot of Ambien being used for everything but sleeping before this point, but they’re not important to this story.

I have just brushed over something here that is a big issue: skin picking. Excoriation. That has been a daily habit ever since I can remember. I think I have glossed over it so far now because it is not an issue which we are currently dealing with and focused on, but it has gotten so bad on a number of occasions that we couldn’t even go in public. That is not specifically my thing and so I am not very familiar with it, but I do have access to some of the memories we have about it. 

After a couple of stays in jail and yet another hospital stay, I had the diagnosis of Schizoaffective Bipolar Disorder with Psychotic episodes. That one got me to the medications I am currently taking. All of my previous diagnoses still stand. I hit one of my bottoms during this time. There’s a whole lot more that I don’t remember than I do.

A few more stays in jail and a few years of sobriety later, and I had a diagnosis of DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder. I am still navigating that one. I’ve definitely been back forth and all around with this. I have mapped out a timeline of sorts in a journal, and it’s astounding how much sense this diagnosis makes. Finally: A diagnosis that actually fits all the way around. It is still quite alarming, and I am still trying to establish good communication between alters within my inner world and be more okay with referring to us as us or we or a system. We know now that the path we took could have never led us anywhere but here. We understand that only due to our most recent move to a place where we are safe with the kids, were we able to come forward and be known.

DID is a disorder rooted in trauma, and usually only makes itself known after the system has moved away from the direct influence or vicinity of the family member, caregiver, or other person (or people) who make it unsafe for parts of the system to be known. They were birthed by severe trauma and have existed for strictly covert missions to protect the other parts. Walls of amnesia are typically built up around the fractured pieces of personalities (this is always done at a young age -- usually sometime before seven to nine years old -- before personalities integrate into one personality), and stay up and operational in order to keep awareness of the trauma from reaching certain parts. When there’s no longer present and persistent perceived danger, these alters are often left with not knowing what to do with themselves and questioning their own validity and justification for living in an environment where no one needs to be protected. They have been operating within the system for so long in their own way of doing so, and the reactions of parts and systems to no longer being actively life-saving vary widely. They will reach out knowingly or not, and sometimes a system will even break down. 

My story is not atypical. It is a classic story of a journey down Diagnosis Trail through the mental healthcare system. The average amount of time for people to get to a correct diagnosis of DID is seven years after initially becoming a patient  within the mental healthcare system. Finding professionals who are willing to diagnose and treat dissociative disorders is a challenge, because despite the presence of the diagnostic criteria in the DSM-5 and clear cut texts on the treatment of DID, there are many people out there who have so little experience and knowledge of our disorder that they don’t “believe” in it.

This was my diagnosis journey, made intelligible and digestible as I could manage. I know that I touched on several different stories, and I definitely had to skip over so many significant times that came up as I was writing. I mean, I summed up multiple years at a time with just a couple of sentences, some of the time without even one actual meaningful memory to go with them. That’s what this blog is going to be for, in part; though, most of the details of my life are going to be published in my Memoirs. Thank you for reading and feel free to email me with or comment below any questions, comments, or concerns. 

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Me

Link to song : Me by the 1975

Synopsis: Time jump, pre-wedding jitters. 

TW: depictions of violence (flashbacks)

Ao3 Link

Chapter 9: Me

“Please,” moaned the young man on his knees, “you can’t. Please.”

The metal rattled between my fingers. Sweat coated my palms, and I had to force a breath out through my mouth. To my ears, it sounded like a sob.

“Shut up you little shit,” barked the older man beside him. Both of their hands were bound. Beads of sweat poured down Isaac’s face, yet James was indifferent beside him. It was as though the older man could see right through me. “She won’t do it.”

Nonetheless, Isaac continued to murmur, “Please, please, please.”

Each uttering of the word pierced my heart. It only added to the blood already covering my chest. The storage room walls were closing in on me, and the smell of coffee grounds and blood met my nose, only adding to the pungent smell of death that lingered just around the corner.

“What are you waiting for, then?” James yelled. An animalistic, unearthly madness danced in the brown irises.

Butcher. Killer. Murderer of innocence.

Please.

Suddenly, James’s hands came unbound, and there was a gun staring me right in the face. I didn’t hesitate this time as I raised my hands and fire twice. James slumped over.

I shifted my grip to Isaac, who only let out a moaning scream as I fired twice more, right through his forehead. Isaac slumped forehead into the pool of James’s blood that was already collecting densely between the two of them. They were bleeding. Profusely.

“Help!” I shouted as I dove to my knees, applying pressure over James’s wound. I knew in my heart he was already dead, but I had to try something. “Help!” I screamed louder, but I knew nobody could hear me.

Blood began to fill the storage room. Hot, repulsive and noxious, it covered both men’s bodies and continued rising until it was up to my hips. I couldn’t move, lest I be splashed with it all over my torso.

“HELP!” I pleaded at the top of my lungs.“Please,” I whispered, my voice finally breaking. Only something had grabbed me by the leg: a hand. One, then another.

I did the only thing I thought of. I reached into the waistband of my pants within the sea of blood and brought the barrel of the gun to my head.

I didn’t hesitate this time when I pulled the trigger.

Over and over again, I puked what little dinner I’d eaten that night. Tamlin had come home late an so I only had left-over stew Alis had made yesterday. Each bite had been a struggle, but I’d managed to get a bowl down. All for nothing, though, as most of it found itself in the porcelain toilet.

I blinked, and three months had gone by.

It’s like reality is warped. Some days there was a film over my eyes. Some days it was clouds and fog, like dirty glasses.

I spent the first week laying in bed, unable to do anything but eat and sleep and try not to think. My chest had been killing me anyways, and Tamlin had taken time off to take care of me with Alis. There was no mention of what’d happened in the shop. No mention of the people I’d killed or the injuries I’d sustained because of it, only care and affection and attention. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed Tamlin and I being just… Tamlin and I, not fiancees, not CEO and barista. Just us.

Inevitably, Tamlin had to go back to work. And I was alone in the apartment, once again. I couldn’t go back to work. I just couldn’t.

Fall had quickly receded for winter to hit full force. My birthday had come and gone—with minimal celebration due to the suffocating apathy that’d swallowed me whole—and Christmas seemed like a joke at this point. There were a few office parties here and there I’d forced myself to attend for Tamlin’s sake, but they seemed to pass by in a haze of smoke. Ever since the incident, Tamlin had tried to keep work separate from our lives, as it was before. Yet it still ate away at me that I was no longer informed on the ins and outs of the operations going on under my nose.

Since Tamlin and Hybern had fired Rhysand, I hadn’t heard a word of the man since, and he was one of my sole informants. I hadn’t heard from either dark-haired men—Cassian had gone radio silent as well. At first, I understood: we’d fought. There were dangerous hanging precariously between us (matters that would get catch me in an utter shit storm if others were to find out) and I was too injured to touch my toes, never mind boxing together.

I’d find myself missing them. Too much. Because no matter what had surpassed between us, Rhys and Cassian were there for me when there was no one else. In some ways, I considered them friends. Cassian definitely.

Rhys…he was a creature of his own, with a force and darkness that constantly awed me. Friend was a loose term, but yes, I guess that’s what I’d call him. Well, not anymore, anyways.

After what I’d done, it was a relief to still have people in my life that cared. Now that I was a butcherer, no more than slaughterer of innocents…

The feeling of swimming in that pool of blood hit me, and I clutched the porcelain as I heaved once more.

Once the sleeplessness had receded, the nightmares kicked in again. Full force. Most nights I’d find myself racing to the washroom, hands shaking with the phantom blood that dripped from them. The first time it’d happened, Tamlin rushed in and held my hair back, then gently tried to coax me back to sleep. That stopped shortly after the third time. Now I wondered if it even disturbed him in sleep whenever I was stooped over the toilet sick to my stomach.

I laid there, slumped over against the shower door looking out the window. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, surrounded by the pockets of starlight illuminating the darkness beyond. Something about the image calmed me, and I closed my eyes, curled up on the cold bathroom tile. Rhys had said that the pain would fade eventually, but all I felt everyday was the constant, aching bite of the memories that’d tattooed themselves onto my mind.

In two days, I was to be married, bound to him for life.

How could I live the rest of my life, constantly falling apart? How could Tamlin continually put up with me once he realized that this wasn’t temporary, but events that’d poisoned my soul forevermore?

All the preparations we’d been trying to settle for months were finally coming into fruition, yet I still couldn’t even sleep through the night. Not when I had James and Isaac’s faces haunting me every day. Whenever I stepped out of the apartment, went to the grocery store—the only outings I could withstand, always accompanied by Alis or Lucien—I saw them and stopped dead in my tracks. Only it was just another man with pale skin and brown, sandy hair, and not the men in which my bullets buried themselves in.

No missing persons reports had been filed. No inquiry into their sudden disappearances, no cries of outrage from sorrowed family members. At least, not to my knowledge—Tamlin hadn’t spoken a word of what’d surpassed since it had all gone down. And for the life of me, I couldn’t voice the turmoil within me that I’d been facing since the incident. Not to him anyways.

Not to anyone. Besides…

As his name came to mind, I heard my phone buzz from back inside our room. Quietly, I closed the door to the bathroom behind me than crept back into bed, pulling my phone along with me. My breath caught in my throat as I read the name on the screen.

Rhysand.

I told myself my fingers were shaking from the sickness, not the well of anxiety that’d bubbled within me upon seeing his name. I opened the message and held my breath.

We need to talk. 11 am at the gym tomorrow.

+

The one good thing to have happened to me since the incident was the fact that people left me alone.

There was nobody to question my whereabouts as I left the empty apartment the next morning. Alis was only coming two days out of five now, spending the rest of the time at the office to work reception. Which meant I was free to go wherever I pleased—mostly because Tamlin assumed I wouldn’t go anywhere at all, as I’d done for the last six months.

As I approached the gym, nervousness bubbled within me each passing step. I couldn’t stand the anticipation as I traipsed up to the front door and heaved it open. Rhys was already there, leaning over the front counter and speaking quietly with the receptionist, who let out an airy laugh. At the sound of the door hinges squeaking, Rhys turned around. I swallowed hard as I took in appearance.

He looked exactly as I’d last seen him—dark hair carefully combed to look perfectly messy, sharp jaw free of any facial hair to enhance his sharp features. His eyes, though…

They lacked their usual lustre. Like somebody had found the night sky’s options menu and dimmed the brightness of the stars.

As he looked me up and down, something changed in his expression. Like disappointment. Or sorrow. I couldn’t tell.

“Feyre, darling,” he said smoothly. He waltzed towards me, almost as though he were gliding. The air bent around hi, as he stood before me, his signature smirk replacing his down-turned lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I’ve been busy.” I had to be curt, keep this short. I knew Tamlin would be seething if he’d found out that the two of us had been in contact once again, and I honestly couldn’t blame him. Last time we’d been together was one of the darkest moments in both of our lives. I didn’t want a repeater.

“Yes, the wedding preparations. When is it now? Next week?”

“Tomorrow.”

Rhys took a sharp breath through his nose and slowly nodded his head. “So it’s your bachelorette party tonight.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Gods, no.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not celebrating your last night as a free woman.”

“Not enough party spirit within me, unfortunately.”

“Really? I pegged you as a tequila kind of girl.” He raised one plucked eyebrow. “If you needed my services, I could’ve been your nightly entertainment.”

“Nightly entertainment,” I scoffed skeptically.

“You know. Policeman who shows up to the party. Well, ex-policeman. Partially clothed. I make a great stripper, darling.”

“Gods, now I know why we haven’t spoken in months.”

“Yes, darling, the silence between us really has offended me.”

“And who’s fault is that?” I said, crossing my arms in front of me.

His brows lifted, pleasantly surprised. “You blame me?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m very hard to find.” He must’ve known that I wouldn’t have moved from that dreaded place.

He slid his hands into his pockets. “A phone works both ways, you know. And I didn’t know you were so aching to see me.”

“And I didn’t know that Hybern firing you meant radio silence on your behalf.”

Rhys swallowed hard. “I had to take a step back from the operation. He would’ve been very angered if I kept around, with the information I knew.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways. Why did you want to see me?”

At that, Rhys’s eyes hardened, and he cocked his head towards the back of the building. “Let’s go talk in Cass’s office.”

+

“Is he here today?”

“No. Which is why I wanted to meet here. I couldn’t think of anywhere else that would’ve been safe.”

A bubble of nervousness arose in my stomach as we walked through the familiar hallways leading back to Cassian’s office. “What do you mean, safe?”

A sigh heaved from the man as we took a seat in the two chairs before Cassian’s desk. We turned them so we could face each other, and I kicked my boots off so I could curl myself into the plush chair. For a few silent moments, all we did was stare.

“Somebody’s targeting you.”

The words were enough to send a bolt of panic into my chest. I choked, “What? Who?”

“We’re not sure yet. All we know is that there’ve been multiple occurrences of hackers trying to break into both the security footage from the storage room and the override panel for the elevator in your building. One of my men has been trying to trace the IP address but so far they’ve been able to cover their tracks seamlessly.”

I closed my eyes. Here I was, thinking that everything had blown over so perfectly and I’d never have to face what I’d done again. But this time wasn’t a car accident. Lies couldn’t be twisted so easily when it came to guns and bodies. Cars and mangled metal, maybe. I’d gotten away with it. But this time…

“You said you were fired. That you had to stay away.”

“From the operation. Not from you.” He stared at me then, his mouth set in a firm, determined line. “After I left, Hybern and Tamlin never replaced me. Your fiancée has been trying to handle everything on his own, and it’s worked for him so far—but not anymore. Because somebody is deliberately seeking you out and trying to dig up what happened in the storage room. For revenge, to bring Tamlin or Hybern down, I don’t know. But that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Why?” The word was defiant and quiet.

Rhys didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “Feyre, the second I stepped into that storage room and saw the pure fear you felt, the moment we sat in my house together and I saw the guilt eating away at you, I knew I couldn’t walk away. So this is me. Not walking away.”

Something about the way he said it or the expression in his face made my heart bleed. Here he was, a friend—possibly one of my only, true and good friends, who cared about me, cared about me safety—and yet all I could think about was Tamlin’s voice at the back of my head, warning me to stay away from him. That I couldn’t trust him.

Once again, caught between the person I loved, and my own safety.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Rhys. I really do.” I pushed off the stool and pulled my boots back on, then quickly zipped my coat up. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Feyre,” he begged, rising himself, “don’t do this. Listen to me for once. This is your life at stake.”

I shrugged my shoulders and felt my lips tilt into a small, sad smile. “I know.”

[redhoodssweetheart]

3 AM

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Angst, like a buttload of it, swearing, happy ending (y’all I can’t write full-on angst like it hurts too much).

Description: You and Bucky broke up almost a year ago, but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him.

A/N: I had my playlist on shuffle and 3 AM by Meghan Trainor came on and this idea came to me.  

I can't believe I'm still doing this

I told myself a month ago that I'd be through with this

I'm looking at my phone, and wondering if you're home

I'm kinda tipsy, I ain't tryna sleep alone

Somebody told me that some other girl was hugging you

Baby you know I'm the one that should be loving you

You know we had a thing baby it's such a shame

I still get crazy every time I hear your name

I know it's complicated

But you know I'm impatient

Ten months.

That was how long it had been since you had broken up with Bucky.  

Ten months since you had told him you couldn’t do this anymore and had walked out the door.  That had been the hardest decision of your life, but it had to be done.  You had to get out before you got hurt.

You had left because you were scared, not because you didn’t love Bucky anymore.  He had come back from a mission that could have ended a lot differently than it had and you just… couldn’t do it anymore.  That night you told Bucky you couldn’t take it anymore and that you needed to get out before it was too late.  Before he died and you were left alone with a broken heart and shattered memories.

He had begged you to stay, had called after you as you rushed from the room with tears running down your face.  This was how it had to be, you had told yourself.  You needed to protect yourself.

Now you were sitting on your bed with your second martini and you were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.  Your phone was in your other hand and you were going through the photos of you and Bucky together.  Smiling and laughing.  There was one you had taken right as Bucky had kissed your cheek.

Then the one from your birthday where the two of you had been dancing and Steve had taken that photo of the two of you.  The way he looked at you like you were his whole world.  And then the one that really killed you was the one you had taken of Bucky while he was asleep.  You couldn’t help it, he looked so peaceful and you wanted to capture the moment forever.

It had been two days since your friend had come to you and told you that they had seen Bucky out with someone new.  They had been getting ice cream together and he looked happy.

Before you could think about it you pulled up his number and sent him a text.

3am, yep I'm texting you once again

Even though I'm hanging with my friends

I can't help it, I can't help myself, no

3am, I might be looking for a late night friend

And baby I can't get you out my head

I can't help it, I can't help myself, no

Bucky glanced down at his phone when he felt it vibrate and looked to see your name appear.  Sarah was asleep beside him.  It had been almost a year since he had heard anything from you and he was shocked to see your name now.

Y/N: I hope you’re happy Buck.

He stared at the message for the longest time wondering if he should respond to you and if he did what he should even say.  It had taken him months to move past you walking out on him.  Months of becoming despondent.

Then Steve had taken him to that pizza shop where he had met Sarah and the world became a little less grey until he worked up the courage to ask her out.

That had been three months ago.

He liked Sarah, but his heart still belonged to you if he were being honest.  It always would.  But he knew why you had left, his job was dangerous and he knew you would never ask him to stop doing it, so the only other option was to leave before things went any further.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch cushion wondering what he should do.

Kinda stressed like I'm gonna have a heart attack

It's been an hour and you haven't even hit me back

Baby keep it real, tell me what's the deal

'Cause I miss you, you don't know how this feels

I know it's complicated

This always happens when I'm wasted

You hadn’t expected an answer, but in your heart you wished he would say something, let you know he was.  Hell, you would even take him telling you to fuck off at this point, just to hear something from him again.  One last time.

When your phone buzzed your heart stopped in your chest.

Bucky: I am, I hope you’re happy too, Y/N.

And there went the waterworks.  He had moved on, but you were still wallowing over him, missing him.  You had tried dating other men, you had tried being happy, but on nights like these you severely questioned your choice of leaving him if it made you this unhappy.

You set your phone off to the side and curled up in a ball letting the tears flow freely.

3am, yep I'm texting you once again

Even though I'm hanging with my friends

An I can't help it, I can't help myself, no

3am, I might be looking for a late night friend

And baby I can't get you out my head

I can't help it, I can't help myself, no

A week later is when you officially see Bucky and his new girlfriend together.  You’re in a coffee shop doing some things on your computer when you hear the bell on the door jingle followed by his familiar laugh.  You look up to see him with a beautiful dark haired woman.  She’s smiling at him like you used to.

Your breath catches and you force yourself to look back at your computer screen, quickly typing away trying to block out the sounds of his voice.  Forcing the tears back, you won’t cry here, not when he can see it.

You’re almost in the clear, they’re leaving, but he must have glanced back and seen you because he asks, “Y/N?”

You look up and see the two of them have paused, their eyes trained on you.  You force a smile on your face, “Buck, hey.”

He was looking at you with a worried expression, he could always read you better than anyone.  “How’ve you been?”

Lie.  That’s the only thing you can do.  “Good, great actually.  I got that promotion at work.”  That was about the only good thing that had happened to you since your break up.

Bucky smiled at you, “Congratulations, I know how hard you worked to get there.”

You nodded, your face hurting from the fake smile, “Thanks, it was great.  I have a nice office, an assistant.  Livin’ the dream.”  Your eyes cut to the woman beside you, “I’m sorry, we’re being rude.  I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sarah Fisher,” she smiled, but you could tell she already knew who you were and she wasn’t sure how to feel about you.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”  You looked back at Bucky, “How have you been, Buck?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, “Great, everything has been going really well lately.”

“I’m glad,” you say a bit awkwardly.

The three of you stand in silence before Sarah says that they need to run and Bucky tells you goodbye.  When they’re out of sight you sink on your chair and stare blankly at your computer screen.

I know, I know, I know

It's so wrong

Somebody take away my phone

'Cause I've been drinking all night long

All night long

All night long

I know, I know, I know

It's so wrong

Somebody take away my phone

'Cause I've been drinking all night long

All night long

All night long

A month later you run into Bucky at the grocery store, he’s alone this time.

“How have you really been, Y/N?”  He had been wondering since he had seen you at the coffee shop.  He had Tony check up on you and he hadn’t liked what Tony had told him.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’m okay, Buck.”

“Have you been eating?”  He glances at the TV dinners and ice cream in your carry basket.  “Real food,” he says as his eyes look back up at yours.

“Sometimes, I’ve just been busy is all.”

“Bullshit,” he says, he’s angry now.  He’s angry because you’re hurting and he knows he’s the reason why, but he can’t do a damn thing about it.  “You need to eat.”

“I’m not your responsibility anymore,” you spit at him.  

“No, you made that decision for me,” he fires back.  “Damn it, Y/N.  Why? Why leave if you were just going to cause yourself more pain?”

The tears you had artfully held back before were now falling down your cheeks, “Because I was scared, and so I ran.  I’ve regretted that decision from the moment that I did it, but I told myself that it would be better this way.  Then I found out you had a girlfriend and I regretted it even more, but you’re happy now, and that’s all I want for you, Buck.  I want you to be happy and if you find it without me in your life then so be it.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, you left him standing in the aisle.

3 am

Yep, I'm texting you once again

Even though I'm hanging with my friends

I can't help it, I can't help myself, no

3 am

I might be looking for a late night friend

And baby I can't get you out my head

I can't help it, I can't help myself, no

It was three in the morning when the knock on your door came.  You grabbed a baseball bat and looked out the peephole to see Bucky standing there.  His hair was wet from the rain outside and he was breathing heavily.

You opened the door and before you could ask him what he was doing there his lips were on yours and he backed you up against the wall.  Your fingers tangled with his wet locks and you melted into his embrace.  His soapy clean scent mixed with fresh rain was intoxicating.

He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, “Please, don’t leave me.”

You lightly ran your fingers over his cheeks, “What about Sarah?”

“Ever since we saw you in the coffee shop that day she knew that I was still in love with you.  She left.  Told me that if the way you looked at me that day was any indication then you were still in love with me and that I had better win you back.”  He kissed you gently again, he had decided that if you turned him down he wanted to get in as many kisses as he could before you shut him out again.

“Bucky,” you sighed.  “I do.  I do still love you, but I can’t watch you die.”

“I quit,” he said.

That startled you.  “What?”

“I quit field work.  I’m still an Avenger, I just won’t be going into the field anymore.”  He kissed your forehead, “I’ve been fighting since 1943, was a prisoner of war twice, and I’m still fighting.  I think it’s time I stopped.”  He looked at you, and you noted how vulnerable he looked in that moment, “So doll, will you take me back?”

“God yes,” you said before crashing your lips against his.

That night you fell asleep with Bucky beside you, a content smile on your face as he held you gently in his arms.  Both of you finally getting a good night’s rest for the first time in almost a year.

[philjacobsen-blog]

Antarctica. How I learned to stop worrying and love the isolation.

I put on my gloves and face mask like I had done every day for the past six months. I wanted to protect myself, be safe and I wanted to be healthy. No, I wasn’t a prepper preparing for the end of the world and/or the coronavirus, I lived in Antarctica.

From 2002 to 2018, I spent over six years of my life working and living in Antarctica. Math might tell you that looks like “16 years,” but Antarctica works on a different schedule.

Scientists and contract laborers (like myself) have been limited to work a maximum of 14 months straight in Antarctica. Because, after 14 months of isolation, it has been said, “You might lose your mind.” Therefore, four weeks, six weeks, or eight weeks of coronavirus quarantine is like a walk on the frozen ocean.

Everyone loves Top 10 lists, but first, here is the background of life in Antarctica.

There are two different seasons in Antarctica: summer and Winter. For the laymen, that’s when it’s light 24 hours a day (summer) and then when it’s dark 24 hours a night (Winter). It’s not by accident that “Winter” is capitalized and “summer” is in lowercase. This is because you need to respect Winter.

I have spent four Winters in Antarctica. While there have been changes to the Winter schedule, when I Wintered in Antarctica at McMurdo Station, the largest of the three American bases on the 7th Continent, a plane with all of our friends, hopes, dreams and escape plans left in February. The next time we would see the lights of a plane in the sky would be in August.

In other words, shit got real when that last plane left. We had to trust we had enough food, talent and toilet paper to last us until the end of August. This is because, as the saying goes, “If we don’t have it, then you don’t need it. And, you don’t need it, because we don’t have it.”

If you run out of chicken, then you eat pork. When you run out of pork, you eat lamb, when you run out of lamb, you eat hamsters--hamsters are, what we called, microwavable breaded (or deep fried) ham and cheese Hot Pockets™®.

In other words, the grocery stores are open; quit panicking. When you’re outside, hoping your squirrel trap has been bountiful today, this is the time to panic. However, today, it’s not minus 45 degrees outside. Walmart will be restocked soon, put on your mask and gloves and purchase only what you need. Then go home.

And, if Walmart is out of toilet paper, hook a garden hose to your faucet and clean your ass, and be happy your water supply doesn’t give you frostbite.

It’s going to be fine.

In Antarctica, we were living like it was Gilligan’s Island, “No phone, no lights, no motorcar, not a single luxury.” The only difference was we had phones, lights and motorcars, but when we went outside it was minus 45 –degrees—not a luxury. Stay inside on your couch and be happy that when you do go outside to take out the trash, walk the dog or mow your lawn, you’re not getting third degree frostbite and having your toes cut off.

This little piggy went to the market. This little piggy watches Netflix. This little piggy stays home.

Speaking of movies and TV shows, my good God, we would have loved to have had Netflix, bootlegged versions of Game of Thrones, YouTube or Facebook in Antarctica. Instead, the entirety of McMurdo’s bandwidth is mostly for Science.

Rarely could I “LOL” with my friends on Facebook or “YOLO” with spring breakers at the beach. Nope, Science is the priority in Antarctica.

Science, I tell you. A bunch of people, who we called “Beakers,” is the entire reason McMurdo Station exists. These Scientist are in Antarctica to prove or disprove Global Warming and/or can penguins fly and/or are penguins cute. Generally, they proved it, but why listen to scientists?

Scientists went to school and studied stuff, but have they ever studied the “economy” or “Facebook?” Can you imagine an entire community who listens to scientists? Oh wait, you can? Possibly because we’re in a global pandemic? Yeah, listen to scientists?

During my Winters in Antarctica, I could go days and only see the one person who I worked with, and guess what? I hated him.

In the community, we called him “Skin Suit.” This was his nickname because, even though he passed his battery of psychological examinations, which are required in order to Winter-Over in Antarctica, he said to Suzy—a la “Silence of the Lambs.”

“I wish I could wear your skin, so I could touch you all day.”

So, there I was, working at the bottom of the world, with Jame “Buffalo Bill” Gume as my coworker for six months, in total darkness, and do you want to know how I got along with him (aside from the one time I threw hot coffee in his face)? I complimented his outfits. I tried to look for the positive in the people who surround me.

My first job in Antarctica, I was a dishwasher. I left my home, friends and a girlfriend to seek this adventure. I’m still happy with two out of three of those decisions.

The first year I spent in Antarctica there was a “Dishwasher Emergency” at the South Pole (850 miles from the sea level solitude of McMurdo). Just like we need grocery store employees, drive through food and universal health care, the South Pole needed a dishwasher—and they chose me.

The South Pole is located at 9,301 feet above sea level. That’s not very high. When I live my life in my hometown of Salt Lake City, I live at 4,327 feet above sea level. I have climbed high mountains in Utah, like Mt. Timpanogos that is 11,752 feet and Mt. Nebo that is 11,928 ft. I’m not healthy, but I’m also not fat.

When I was asked to work at the “high altitude” of 9,301 feet of the South Pole, I said, “Okay. I’ve done that.”

However, what I didn’t know, was that because the South Pole is at “The South Fucking Pole” it’s not just about the altitude. The South Pole has a variance of altitude because of the Earth’s centrifugal force which makes the South Pole seem much higher than the actual 9,301 feet. At times it can feel, because of lack of oxygen, as though you are over 12 or 13 thousand feet.

Before going to the South Pole, the doctors and scientists said I should take “prophylactic acetazolamide” to combat the feelings of high altitude sickness. However, my friend Donald said, “You’ll be ‘okay.’” He said that since he was from Colorado and I was from Utah, that I would be fine, because I was “use to the high altitude.”

I was at the South Pole for eight days. I quit taking prophylactic acetazolamide on day four, because I was feeling great. I listened to Donald.

On day eight, I nearly died. This wasn’t Utah. Because I’d lived at sea level for four months at McMurdo Station, and Donald didn’t know shit, my pulse oximeter (the amount of oxygen which should be in my blood and close to 100) was 52. I was failing breathing.

Pulmonary edema cut the oxygen supply to my brain making me think 3 + 7 = Cat. The South Pole doctor said, “Phil, you are two to four hours from death.”

All flights to the South Pole were canceled on this day, due to weather, but, due to “2 to 4 hours of death,” a C130 National Guard Airplane risked their lives and flew from McMurdo Station to rescue me at the South Pole. If not for universal Antarctica Health Care, I could be dead.

On this day, I learned I needed to listen to the scientists, and not to Donald.

This story ended up being too long. I’m sorry. I’ve lived through isolation, listened to friends, instead of the medical community, and somehow I’m still alive. How did Antarctica prepare me for the isolation of the coronavirus?

1: Do something today better than you did yesterday. Did you go to bed sooner? Wake up earlier? Brush your cat?

2: Exercise. In Antarctica my exercise routine was called, “Brushing the Dust Off of David.” There is no reason to take a hammer and chisel to David. All you need to do is to take a wet cloth and brush off the dust. Do 10 sit ups, pushups, or jog in place. Be happy with who you are, and barely maintain. If you set higher expectations, you might fail. Simply, brush the dust off of your personal David.

3: Do something better today than you did yesterday. There were many times in Antarctica I got more drunk on Friday than I did on Thursday. I’m not advocating alcoholism, but lower your expectations. Don’t look for perfection when a glass of wine might do.

4: Did you make your bed after you woke up? Some days you will go to bed and your biggest accomplishment will be, “I made that bed today.” Congratulations.

5: Groundhog Day. Every day may seem like yesterday, but, how did you make it different? In Antarctica, after six months of Winter the trash shelves are lined with “Learn ‘This Language’ in 30 Days” DVDs. Nobody accomplishes a lot during the isolation of Winter. But, if we do little, then that is a lot.

6: Communication. Does your phone work? In Antarctica, no one can call us, so we have to call out. Instead of waiting for ‘that phone call.’ Make it.

7: Don’t go outside. It’s too cold. In the Covid-19 case, it’s too dangerous. My dad goes to dialysis three times a week; please don’t kill him. Don’t go outside.

8: Appreciate your pets. In Antarctica we are not allowed to have pets. I started the “Antarctica Cat Club.” All we did was share photos of our cats from home that we wished to be with. Now, we get to live a cat’s life. Nap. Eat. Shit. Nap. Clean. Nap. Eat. Repeat.

Love your pets you lucky sons of bitches.

9: Art. Be creative. Rather you’re by yourself or preferably, with only yourself. Do something artistic. For instance, today, I chose to write this Manifesto. In Antarctica a group of us recreated the (drunk) history of the race to South Pole by Roald Amundsen and Robert Scott (https://vimeo.com/35084075). What will you or your isolated group create?

10: Know that it ends. A plane will come and take you away or scientists will tell you it’s safe to go outside. And then, it’s over. You take off your mask and gloves. You shop at a grocery store, you go to a movie, you hug your parents or, you love being able to hold those who you love.

Stay warm. Stay isolated. And, stay indoors.

[noradarhkpalmer]

Darhkatom + Ray feeling guilty/them moving into his apartment

“So...” Ray asked after they laid on her bed for a while, just soaking up each other’s company, Ray especially soaking up each and every movement he could feel from their daughter growing inside Nora’s belly.

“So...?” Nora lifted her head off his shoulder.

“Do we wanna start packing your stuff?”

Nora shook her head. “No need.” She pulled a duffle bag from the floor on her side of the bed and smiled. “Other than my toiletries, this is everything I have. I keep it packed in case I need to run and run fast.”

Ray hated that moving her out was so expedited because she had lived in fear the past five months. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “I’ll help you get your toiletries together.”

Within ten minutes they had cleaned up her room and he held Nora’s entire life for the past five months in his arms. They exited her room and he made his way down the steps first, heading over to, to Nora’s surprise, a truck, and put them in the back seat and then met her back at the top of the stairs to help her down them.

“I’m not an invalid. I can walk by myself, you know.”

“These stairs do not look safe and I’m not risking either of you. I just got you,” Ray replied when they reached the bottom of the steps. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and she held on tight, not used to, yet craving this kind of closeness.

Ray kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. He guided her over to the truck and opened the passenger door.

“I never really imagined you to own a truck...”

Ray shrugged. “Height of Palmer Tech me was kind of an overcompensating asshole.”

Nora flashed him a coy smile and glanced down at his crotch. “Overcompensating for what, though?”

Ray coughed and his cheeks flushed red. “Oh well... umm... confidence I guess.”

Nora climbed into the passenger’s side and Ray rounded the truck. She buckled herself in and turned to look at him. “If we hadn’t met because I was trying to kill you and take over the world with my dad you don’t think you would’ve been able to grab my attention or something?”

Ray shrugged. “Something like that, I’ve always ended up second to someone else regardless so it’s not like...”

Nora pulled Ray in by the collar of his shirt and kissed him firmly. She pulled back with sadness and determination in her eyes. “You’re my first choice, always. I’d pick you out of a group of complete strangers every time, in any time, in any universe.”

Ray swallowed hard and pulled her in for another kiss. He threaded his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss, which Nora gladly reciprocated.

They finally broke for a bit of air and Nora pressed their foreheads together. Out of breath, she murmured, “if we don’t stop, I’m going to ask you to take me in the back seat.”

Ray let out a soft groan and pulled back, trying to shift to a comfortable seated position in his seat, and adjusted his pants. “You’re right. Later?”

Nora nodded, trying not to stare directly at his crotch, and pulled down the mirror above her to check herself over, hair mussed, lips now thoroughly kissed. “Later.” 

xxxx

They ended up at grocery store first. They had finally got to Star City when Nora’s stomach rumbled, Ray’s too. He said he would need to go on a grocery run eventually and he would love nothing more than to cook her dinner when they got home.

Home.

The thought filled Nora’s belly with a pleasant feeling that made her shiver when it occurred at the same time as a comforting kick from their daughter. She knew they would eventually buy a house to move into, to raise their family in, but Ray was still referring to his apartment as their home. She had a home now. With him.

It turned out that going grocery shopping with a still slightly horny and definitely hungry pregnant woman was more dangerous than a hungry college student grocery shopping with their financial aid refund burning a hole in their pocket.

They loaded up the backseat of Ray’s truck with probably more groceries than they would need (Nora cited that after eating ramen noodles for five months her pregnant ass would eat anything and probably crave it in all sorts of combinations) and they were headed to his apartment. 

A probably too helpful doorman to a very fancy looking apartment building helped Ray and Nora carry all the groceries up (Ray wanting Nora to only carry the lightest dry goods, which made her roll her eyes). When Nora entered his apartment, she gasped. It was huge.

“Welcome home!” He grinned as they sat the groceries on a spacious kitchen island. He tipped the doorman for helping and the man shut the door behind him.

“It’s...”

“I know that it’s definitely the size of a bachelor pad, I definitely don’t have a spare bedroom big enough for an adequate nursery but hopefully it’ll give us a good transitional space before we move into a house.” He came to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “How do you like it?”

Nora placed a hand over her mouth and blinked back the tears. “It’s perfect. It’s a home. A home for you and me and our baby girl. I don’t even care if we get a house at this point. I feel pretty well cared for right here.”

“I still want for us to have a much quieter place. The building is safe and is very nice and everything, but the city is still too loud for my liking. I don’t want you or our baby girl to have a worse sleep schedule than you already will because she’ll be a baby up at all hours of the night.”

Nora looked up at him and pulled him in for a loving kiss. “This is more than I ever could’ve dreamed of.”

xxxx

Nora Darhk sat at their kitchen island (she loved that she could call it that) and watched Ray cook enchiladas. There were a myriad of other Latin American side dishes also being prepared simultaneously. She had offered to help, but Ray said to just sit back and snack.

For once she didn’t want to argue.

So she snacked on a large platter of cheese and crackers and grapes and watched her man (now clad in a tight fitting black crewneck t-shirt and sweatpants that hugged his ass, to her advantage, closer than most) cook her dinner. When all was said and done, Ray plated her food with everything she had requested and they sat next to each other at the island, gratefully digging into their meals.

Nora finally took a break from stuffing her face and smiled up at him. “This is really good, thank you for dinner, Ray.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Nora smiled against his lips. “I never thought I’d be anyone’s love of their life.”

“I could both go on and not really articulate very well what you mean to me, Nora. I just feel so drawn to you, always have. You weren’t dealt a fair card in your life and something deep inside me just wanted to be there for you, as you finally gained the freedom to explore who you were always meant to be. You’re funny, beautiful, I know how caring and loving you are deep down. You’re going to be an amazing mother. You’re already an amazing woman.”

Nora threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“It is I who is undeserving of you.” He pulled her in for another kiss.

xxxx

That night after dinner was cleaned up, Nora changed into some pajamas, which she would admit, were on their last days of fitting in any capacity. Ray frowned and offered her some of his but she turned him down. She wanted her clothes.

Ray understood, more than understood.

But as they laid in bed that night it was almost as if they had gone backwards. When they were in his truck, they had nearly torn each other’s clothes off. Now Ray was laying stiff as a board and quiet as a mouse. What was going on in that head of his?

Nora was facing him, trying to insinuate she wanted to be close, but Ray never made eye contact with her. She tried to fight the tears back. Maybe he didn’t actually want to build this life with her as much as she thought he did.

Ray felt the sleeve of his shirt dampen and looked down at Nora, who was trying to hold back the tears but because of the way she was laying, a single tear slipped from her right eye. 

“Nora? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

Nora shook her head. “No... I just... maybe I read too much into earlier...”

“What do you mean?”

“About how much you want this life with me... maybe I should go sleep on the couch. To keep our boundaries clear.”

Ray’s brows furrowed. “What? Wait, Nora, no. I’m sorry. I just... realized how much I’ve missed out on. I don’t deserve this, Nora. I’ve already messed this up by having you go through this alone for the last five months. It’s not fair of me to swoop in and start playing family with you.”

Nora sat up and shook her head. “No. Oh my god, Ray, that is all I want from you. We are a family. I want you to hold me and our daughter and for us to fall asleep together. Wrapped around each other. I know that you not showing up until today wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry that guilt is eating at you, but I promise you deserve this just as much as I do.”

Ray didn’t meet her eyes during Nora’s speech and he felt a small hand press against his cheek and force his eyes to meet hers. 

“Ray, promise me you’re going to try and realize that I just want you and you don’t have to feel guilty for what you missed.”

Ray solemnly nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

“Okay. Now will you please hold me? She’s really kicking so you’ll be able to feel her too.”

Ray smiled and pulled Nora into his arms and placed a hand on her belly where their daughter was kicking. He kissed her slowly and Nora eagerly reciprocated. His hand started moving her shirt up her belly until it was exposed as they laid there kissing. Ray realized what was happening and pulled back to see Nora’s eyes, now a dark smoke grey.

“Are you sure we should.”

“Please.” Nora nodded into another kiss.

xxxx

When they curled up together after, Nora immediately fetched his shirt. Ray remained naked (not that Nora was about to complain) and she curled further into his embrace.

“You’re gonna be here when I wake up? Just like this?”

Ray nodded. “Unless you kick me out and hog the bed.” He chuckled and tickled her sides. “And don’t think I don’t realize what game you’re playing at. You rejected my offer to get you pajamas earlier just so you could sleep in my shirt and me be shirtless.”

Nora blushed. “Well it does smell the most like you since you just wore it and it fits me perfectly with my little bump. See?” Nora pulled the shirt taut and showed off her bump under his shirt proudly.

Ray’s throat went dry. She continued to show him things that topped his definition of beauty every minute. Nora laying there, pulling his shirt that she wore taut to show off her baby belly, where she was carrying their baby, with the biggest grin on her face was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I do see. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“What my naked body not do it for you?”

Ray tickled her sides again. “You know it more than does it for me. And you know what I mean.” Ray kissed her and pulled the covers over them. He pulled her close and rested his hand on her belly. “Goodnight, Nora, I love you.”

Nora curled into his chest and let his heartbeat sooth her to sleep. “Night, Ray, I love you too.”

[gwaciechang]

Love Run (4/10?)

“Welcome to my table, bring your hunger”

Yes, I know that line’s from The Horror and the Wild. Deal with it.

Once again, trigger warnings for Bobby Hayes’ life and everything involved in it. This chapter also involves a character with OCD whose rituals lead to an argument with the POV character, the discovery that an addict is keeping drugs in a recovering addict’s living space (a brief line that will be discussed later), and a heavy discussion of the POV character’s past drug abuse and recovery. Read at your own risk below the cut.

“Home sweet home,” you breathe a sigh of relief. Behind you, Bobby is tense and unhappy. That doesn’t change when he steps inside. You wince when you notice the mess. God, why didn’t you clean up before?

Well, missing the bus, making a friend, and killing a hitman might have had something to do with it. You shake yourself out of the memory before it can overwhelm you. You're literally too tired to have a panic attack, how sad is that?

You start scrubbing the dishes you left from breakfast that last morning into the sink. The handle falls off the mug, and you curse. That had been your favorite, too, because it’s the only one your ex didn’t give you when you two moved into this place. The only glue you have in the house is a children’s gluestick that couldn’t hold two pieces of paper together, assuming you could even find it. You resign yourself to a trip to the store. Bobby would probably insist on his own set of dishes anyway, and you do’'t blame him, you're the one who let this place become a sty, after all.

“D-do you mind if I help?” Bobby asks shyly.

“No, of course not. Just, um, just let me know where you put things later, and, uh, try to keep similar things in the same place. That’s dish soap in the handsoap dispenser next to the faucet, by the way. I have a gallon jug of dish soap under the sink next to the trashcan that I refill it with, it’s just easier.” When you realize you’re babbling, you shut your mouth with a click.

“That's smart,” Bobby’s smile is pained. “That’s normal person smart.”

“Normal?” you hold up your hands, which are still covered by his gloves.

Oddly enough, this actually makes him smile, and he gets to washing the dishes with his bare hands, even though it means having to touch four-day-old egg, or whatever that yellow crusty thing is. You go to your bedroom and try to organize your clothes, or at least get them off the floor. And that’s when you realize.

“Shit!”

“What is it?”

You poke your head out to say, “I don’t have a couch, and there’s only one bed.”

His face is grim and he fidgets when he says, “If you don’t mind, I could take a spare blanket and sleep on the floor.”

”I can’t let you sleep on the floor, Bobby, shit.” You take out your thickest blanket anyway, and go to the gaming room your ex set up to dump on the reclining chair. “I’ve fallen asleep here before,” you lie, you’d never used this room before. Bobby’s not paying attention, he’s too busy staring at your ex’s computer.

Right, he’s a fucking computer expert, and your ex, for all his uselessness, was very much into getting the latest technology for League of Warcraft or whatever it was he played.

“Yes, it is most likely whatever model of computer you’re thinking of. I don’t know exactly, since I’ve never used it,” you roll eyes and busy yourself with trying to figure out how to get the reclining chair to actually recline.

“I thought you said you’ve fallen asleep here before.”

Ah shit, you need to be more careful. “Um, yeah,” you hide your face carefully. “When my ex would fall asleep here, I’d usually come join him.” That actually isn’t a lie. “I hate sleeping by myself in that big bed.”

Bobby makes a sound, and for a second your heart beats fast with the hope he’s going to offer to sleep in the bed with you. But then he opens his mouth. “Have you considered getting a large stuffed animal?”

The idea is appealing. You hadn’t held a stuffed animal even close to your size since you were maybe five, but you’d be damned if you let Bobby knew that.

“I will throw this chair at you,” you threaten.

He honest-to-god smirks. “You can’t even lift it.”

You do your best and succeed at tipping the chair over right into the window. The headrest smashes into the blinds and starts to go through the glass as well, but Bobby catches it at the last second and very carefully tips it back.

“Well, fuck,” you say, examining the crack in the glass.

“I don’t usually sleep at night,” Bobby says suddenly. His fingers are tapping that nervous pattern against his elbows again. “We could take turns sleeping in the bed?”

“Actually, that might be a good idea,” you remember what Harry said. “One of us should be on alert, just in case somebody tries to break down my door, too.”

Bobby tenses at the reminder, and his eyes flick toward the door like somebody’s about to jump out right now. “I will,” he promises, rubbing the sores on his arms. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I can stay awake for a long time.”

“Well, so can I,” you think ruefully of being so high on meth you wouldn’t even realize a week passed by until the high ran out and you crashed, starving, hallucinating, for days.

“Don’t take anything, please. Don’t take anything that’ll keep you awake, and I promise I won’t take anything,” Bobby’s eyes are fierce.

“I won’t,” you promise. “I’d rather die. I’m not joking, I’d rather die.”

He gets closer to you, one inch at a time. “Well, don’t do that either,” he lays a reluctant hand on your shoulder.

“I think I’ve done a pretty good job of not doing that,” you try to force some levity into the situation. “Now come on, you barely have any clothes, and my groceries have probably gone bad.”

It turns out to be a mistake, because you forgot it was Friday and not Monday, and the shop is crowded.

“I don’t need anything,” Bobby says sullenly. He flinches every time someone brushes past him.

“Is it because the police took your money? That’s fine. I can afford it for a couple days,” you walk in front of him so you’ll deal with the crowd and he can avoid people in your wake. You also fail at trying not to think about work. You’re missing almost a week’s worth of income, and you don’t even know if Bobby has a job.

“No, I brought the box. I don’t like it here. It’s too loud.”

“Okay, let’s go home, and then you can make a list for me of things you need, and I’ll get it,” you start to turn him to the exit.

“No,” he takes your hand. “I’m not leaving you alone.” Does he realize he’s humming to his usual six beats?

That gives you an idea. “Here,” you take his gloves off and hold them under his face so he can see them.

“They’re yours,” he still doesn’t meet your eyes. “They keep you from scratching.”

“I’m not scratching, they worked. Now put them on.”

He does, and with his hands covered, he doesn’t stop tapping, but nor is he flinching when people pass by him. You’re not arrogant enough to believe it’s because you’re holding his hand now.

He closes all the blinds once you get home, then opens them to close them again.

You leave him to it, opening up the refrigerator door to toss the rotten carrots and a bag of things that could be kiwis or apples out. The cherries are a little soft, but they look edible, and so do the wrinkly oranges, so you put the green bananas in between them to help them ripen faster.

“I’ll do it,” Bobby yanks the groceries out of your hands and starts rearranging your food.

“Can you leave the fruit where it is? I want the bananas to ripen faster.”

“You could’ve just bought ripe bananas,” he says.

“Yes, but I don’t eat them that fast,” you try to keep your temper in check.

He takes the bag of cherries. “These are old.”

“They’re still good,” you argue, trying to keep him from throwing them out.

“They’re old,” he insists.

“You’re not the one who’s eating them!” your voice is getting higher now.

“I don’t want them in the refrigerator. They get old and they become breeding grounds for bacteria.”

“It’s my refrigerator!”

He throws the cherries at you before storming out of the room, and you just barely catch them. He’s tapping his fingers so hard against the wall that you’re afraid he'll break them.

“Bobby-”

“SHUT UP! STOP TALKING!” he screams. His eyes are clenched shut and he’s doubled over. You wonder if his injuries are still bothering him, and all your anger drains out.

You drop the cherries behind the bananas so they’re hidden from view. “I’ll leave the groceries to put away how you want,” you say as you walk off to your room. You close the door quietly to avoid disturbing his rituals, turn around, and find his box at the top of his dresser.

You know this is invasive, but you need to know. You of all people know how tentative the hold on sobriety is, and if someone has hard drugs that you know is triggering for you, you have to protect yourself. Still, knowing that doesn’t make you feel any less awful to start singing Bonnie Tyler again to hide the sounds of you opening the box.

Well, that’s a lot of cash and not a lot of heroin, maybe. You can’t smell it like this, but you know what it looks like.

You leave everything where it is and close the box in favor of something you can control: sorting the laundry. That’s how Bobby finds you, and he lets out a little sigh of relief when he sees his box hasn’t been disturbed.

“There was so much noise,” he says harshly, and then he winces.

“I understand,” you try to reassure him. “Your life just got turned upside down, you lost your apartment, you’re in a whole new living situation with another person, your life is in danger by people you don’t know, and shopping in big crowds can be stressful. You’re trying to get your control back.”

“So are you,” Bobby insists. “You’ve got a new roommate, that roommate’s reminding you of the worst time of your life, and you’ve still got nightmares of that man you killed for me. I should let you have your comfort food, it’s not my comfort food.”

“Which is why I put the cherries somewhere harder to see,” you say. “And if there’s anything else I can do, let me know, alright? We can compromise as long as we talk to each other.” You take tentative steps toward him. “Thank you for being honest with me. Thank you for not hiding or getting high to avoid having this conversation.”

“You shouldn’t be proud. I'm just doing something you’ve been doing for years.”

“Well, too bad, because it's my feelings and I get to feel whatever I want,” you say, standing up. “Now, I’m going to make myself some food. Coming?”

He does, like you hoped. Honestly, that boy needs some meat on his bones.

“What do you like?” you ask, getting your cooking utensils out and leaving the doors open so he can rearrange them the way he likes. He’s doing you a favor, really, you don’t have any organizational system for most of your kitchen.

“I want to know how to make your favorite.”

You can’t help yourself from clutching your chest. “Lu mian it is,” you say, taking out the yellow bean sprouts from the fridge so you could snap the roots off. “Could you take the shredded beef out of the freezer and put it in the microwave to thaw?”

He obeys immediately, the sweetheart.

“Great. Now get me the big metal bowl and a plate from the dishwasher. The bowl’s on the top shelf, the plates are on the bottom, and you can organize it however you like after that.”

“Okay, you see that big three-layered pot in the corner? Take the top two pots off, fill the bottom pot about halfway with water, and then put it on any of the stoves and turn the heat to medium.”

The water turns on, then off, and the pot clinks against the stovepot. Only once.

“What else?”

“Get a porcelain bowl from the dishwasher, top shelf. And then you see the sauces next to the stove? One of them says ‘light soy sauce.’ Pour about a tablespoon of it into a bowl. When you're done with that, there's garlic in the fridge in the same place you keep your butter in your refrigerator. Dice five or six. The cutting board is next to the sink. Then mix the garlic in with the sauce, and when the beef’s thawed, pour it into the bowl and mix it again.”

The microwave dings, and he pours the beef into the bowl. “Like this?” he asks.

“Exactly, perfect.”

Is that a blush?

“Alright, what’s next?” he asks when he finishes.

“Next? Next you listen to me thank you for following my directions perfectly.”

Bobby blushes. He’s so beautiful.

“Is the water boiling yet?” you ask as you wash the sprouts.

“Um, it’s getting close, it’s bubbling.”

“Okay, take two chunks of noodles out of the freezer and put them on the plate. 30 seconds in the microwave should thaw them out enough for you to separate them.” The microwave dings right as you pour the water out of the sprouts. You leave the sprouts next to the sink, separate the top two pots, and walk up to Bobby as he takes out the noodles. “Okay, do exactly as I do,” you say, taking one chunk of noodle from him to unravel into one of the pots. He, of course, follows your instructions perfectly and his pot is much neater than yours, the show-off.

“The water’s boiling," he says, looking at the stove.

“Perfect,” you put your pot over his and put them over the pot already on the stove. Then you grab a pot and pour about two tablespoons of vegetable oil into it, and crank it up to high. “Okay, pour the beef and garlic in here,” you point.

He’s already brushed the mixture into the pot by the time you realize you didn’t give him the spatula, so rinse it out quickly before stirring the mixture with it. Steam hisses, and you roll up your sleeves.

That was a mistake.

You cover the scars as soon as you can, but Bobby is already horrified.

“It’s not that bad,” you focus on making sure the garlic doesn’t stick to the pot. “They were uglier before they healed,” you try to joke.

Bobby rolls up his sleeves, too, so you can see his bruised injection sites. He makes eye contact the whole time, daring you to call yourself ugly again. You nod in acquiescence, and he takes over stirring for you. “How long do I do this for?” he asks.

“Until the meat turns brown,” you say, grabbing the bowl of sprouts. “Move over, I'm going pour this in.”

“Do I mix it in?” he asks. You’re so close to him that you can feel his warmth.

“Yes,” you squeak with a dry mouth. You don’t want to move. “A little more than that,” you say, peering at the pot. “A little more,” and technically this is good enough, but you don’t want to move. “A little more.”

The dry hiss of the noddle pot tells you that it needs more water, snapping you out of your stupor.

“Take the top two pots off,” you say, filling the metal bowl with water to pour into the bottom pot. Then you take the top pot off and put it on the bottom pot. “Now put yours on top of mine.” Man, you would love to say that in a different context.

When the noodles are done, you mix them into the meat and sprouts, and then you both sit down to enjoy your meal. Neither of you have rolled down your sleeves.

“I can’t remember when the noise really started getting to me,” Bobby says suddenly. “I remember the first time I lost my tooth, I kept counting my teeth. I don’t think anybody knew what I was doing yet. And then I had to do more and more. At some point, whenever I went out, I had to count all the trees, and if they weren’t in six, I couldn’t go to where I need unless I counted enough trees to fit six. So I stopped going out, things were just too scary. I broke my fingers one day, to try to keep myself from counting, and the doctor gave me Valium. It made me feel like I was floating, and when it wore off, I had to feel it again. When I’m on heroin, the world isn’t so scary anymore. But the noise always gets through again.”

You reach halfway across the table and lay your open hand down. “When I was thirteen, one of my friends had expired pills they let me take, because I was tired all the time and I didn’t know why. And I still don’t know. I just had to keep taking more and more of it to just stay awake, and then I started mixing other amphetamines. And then when I was fifteen, one of the people I used to buy from said he had something better than expired pills. He gave me crystal meth. He told me he’d inherited this mansion from his uncle, and it was full of the stuff. It was probably just an abandoned building, but it was always full of people using everything he sold.”

Bobby’s eyes are wet, but they’re looking right at yours, and he takes your hand. “How did you stop?”

You chuckle. “Honestly, my sister. My entire family stopped talking to me after they found out I was a tweaker. And one day, when I was too tired to care how much I took, I ended up having a heart attack. I still don’t know how she found me, but she did, and she called an ambulance and kept me alive until it got there. When I woke up, she was next to my hospital bed. She didn’t speak to me, but she locked me in her apartment while fluids poured out of me from both ends, and you have to really love somebody to do that while they’re screaming about how much they hate you.”

Bobby swallows. “Does your family talk to you now?”

“Yeah, eventually. It took a while to get my dad to come around. But having Chloe around to vouch for me really helped,” your eyes are blurring. You rub the tears away roughly, but they’re soon replaced by many more.

Bobby lifts his fingers and wipes them away.

“Thanks,” you say into your noodles.

“I’m sorry you were alone,” he says with way too much feeling.

“Well, once you get past the ‘Holy shit I almost died’ thing, you stop being so scared of things that aren't likely to kill you right this second,” you try to smile. It feels wrong on your face.

Your ex’s chair squeaks when Bobby stands up. You’re not sure what he's doing as he walks around the table, but his face is determined, so you don't say anything as he opens his arms and covers you in a hug.

[pixie-unger]

The Inheritance

For @ban23.  18+  ILike this work?  Consider buying me a coffee or sponsoring my work.  Check out the Master List here.

Look, devil worship in just a thing I grew up with, OK?  Some kids have church and vacation bible school, I had sabbats and black mass.  It was just a thing my family did.  Instead of leaving our stockings out for Santa, we would all go down to the basement of Granny’s house at midnight on the darkest night of the year and make demands from the demon she kept imprisoned there.

Abrxz had been in the family for generations.  He just wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. Ten feet tall, horns, had to stoop to fit in the cellar.  The book described him as muscular, but he looked fairly rangy to me.  He still had the scaly skin, the crown of horns, the mouth full of sharp teeth and the long claws, but he was looking pretty moth eaten by the time I met him.

Then I became an angsty, rebellious teenager and I started just hanging out down there, writing bad poetry and worse love spells to get that cute football player to ask me out.

He did.

He gave me the clap.

Abrxz helped me curse him with herpes.

I was already finished college when Aunt Baal got pissed at Gran and shipped her off to a catholic nursing home.  The house and, by extension Abrxz, ended up being pillaged by the family.

It turned out I was the only one paying attention to the pronounciation all those years.  No one but me and Gran could command him.  He had been good to me when I was young and had no friends, the overly religious zealot that I was.  But growing up in a strict fundamentalist family, no wonder the other kids thought I was nuts.

At any rate, I thought ‘What the hell?’ and I broke the binding spell, effectively setting him free into the world.  He vanished and I thought that was the end of it.

Until I got home and found him standing sheepishly in the kitchen of my apartment.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Abrxz flinched, “You don’t have a basement.  You didn’t give me permission to terrorize your downstairs neighbours, Master.”

I blinked.  My downstairs neighbours were a family of Syrian refugees.  “You stay out of their way. They have enough problems without having a demon move in with them.” I commanded.

“Oh. I’ll just go over here, then,” he said awkwardly, and start making a nest in my broom closet.

I just shook my head and moved my towels.  I ordered delivery chinese and sat down to watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch on Netflix.  The new one, where they got all of the demonology wrong.  As compared to the old one, where they still got it all wrong but Salem the cat was awesome.

I could feel him watching me.  I didn’t even turn around, but between mouthfuls of chow mein, said, “I took a philosophy class in college.  They talked about how people aren’t fully good or fully evil.  Most of us are pretty mediocre.  This is me, enjoying my Tuesday night, being mediocre.”  At that I could feel him leave.  I finish my dinner, spend some time looking at porn on Tumblr before brushing my teeth and heading to bed.

I took a moment to listen if Abrxz was still here.  There was no sign of him.  I spent a few minutes with a vibe and a dildo to take the edge off so I can sleep.

That night I dreamed Abrxz was standing over me, watching me sleep.  You would expect something like that to be creepy, but it was strangely comforting instead.

In the morning, the apartment was cleaner than it had been when I moved in and the kitchen was stocked with food.  I ignored it and grabbed a travel mug and bolted to my favourite coffee shop.  Work was the usual petty bullshit.  The office bitch had called parking enforcement on anyone who had a car in the lot that was a grey zone between worker and client use, but most used by staff.

I had a protection spell on my car so it got missed, but I still had to listen to everyone bitch about it.  I thought about hexing her, but the attraction of spell casting weares off when you know that there is a literal hell waiting for you.  Whatever darkness you call on, is there waiting to take payment when you die.   Abrxz had been valuable because we could bend him to the families will without fear because while he was trapped in this realm, he could not get his revenge after our deaths.

Yeah, that loophole had closed.

It started to rain on the way home.

Great.

I came home to the smell of roast in the oven and Abrxz wearing my “Kill the Cook” apron and looking nervous.

“What did you do?” I demanded, as though he were a dog that had knocked over a lamp.

“I cooked.  So you don’t have to order mediocre food.”

I swallowed.  This was not how this was supposed to go.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Please, I want to.”

Now I narrowed my eyes, “I am not trading part of my soul for dinner.”

He hung his head, “I am not asking you to, Master.  I choose to do this, you have not commanded me.”

I pursed my lips and considered this.

Then I sat down and looked at him.  At the beautifully laid out table set for one.  “Aren’t you going to join me?”  He shook his head.  “Because the food is poisoned?” I asked, always suspicious of free gifts.  He shook his head again.  “Then why won’t you eat?”

“Do you invite me to eat with you?”

I trying to think about the consequences of that, then I nodded.  

We ate the best meal of my life.  “Where did you get the groceries?” I asked.

“The grocer down the street rigged his scales and overcharges everyone.  I took what was owed.”

I shrugged, then washed the dishes while he hovered.  Once I had a few done, he dried them using bursts of hellfire.  It didn’t work so great on the tupperware.

“Netflix and -“ I stopped before I said chill and just headed silently to the couch.  

“That show is terrible.”

I grinned, “I know.”

TV, bath, bed.  I lay there in the dark and thought about my day.  Pitch black smoke billowed up from under my bed and caught my wrists and ankles, pulling me spread eagled on the bed.

“Let me,” Abrxz whispered.

I swallowed nervously, “What are you doing?”  I wanted to sound commanding, but it came out like a squeak.

“It has been a while, but I assure you I am better than those toys,” he purred.

“I am not trading part of my soul for an orgasm.”

The dim light through the blinds glinted off his teeth, “I am not asking you to, Master.  I choose to do this, you have not commanded me.”  The blankets rose off the bed as Abrxz materialized between them and me.  He snarled at my pyjamas and the melted like liquid and ran off my body, off the bed and onto the floor.

“Need trick,” I said.  

His grin widened and a long, wet, forked tongue fell from his lips.  He licked my cheek, then my throat, then my nipples.   My wrists were still bound tightly to the corners of my bed.  His warm hands ran up and down my sides before forcefully grabbing my hips tightly enough that his claws pricked at my skin.  His head dipped between my legs and his nostrils flared as he sniffed.

“You have been wasting your treasure on mortals who do not appreciate it,” he snarled, saliva dripping from his teeth.”

That made me snort.  Abrxz was naked and in all the years I had know him, my whole life, the only thing between his legs was a tangled fringe of skin strips.  The were only as thick as my little finger and they hung more than a foot looking like he was wearing a tasseled loin cloth.  But that tongue had potential.

I smirked up at him, “Oh?  Are you going to kiss me with that mouth full of teeth?”

He leaned in and used the tip of his tongue to lick my lips before growling softly, “Your toys did not kiss you last night.”

I tried to shrug.  It didn’t really work.  “You said you would be better then they were.  Come on.  Stop playing around and let me up.”

The grin he gave me was pure evil.  “You have a safe word and that is not it.”  Then his head dipped and he bit my breast enough to break the skin in a couple of places as his tongue coiled around the tip of my nipple.

I shrieked.   My mind was racing.  What safe word?

He lapped at the wounds, his tongue traveling lower as I forced myself to say as calmly as I could under the circumstances, “What safe word?”

“The one to make me stop,” he purred, then his tongue was between my legs and I didn’t want him too.

Until I remembered the teeth and my body tensed with fear.

“Mmmm.  That tastes nice,” it was almost a coo.  His clawed hands grabbed my hips and lifted so that he could push his tongue into me.  It was scratchy against my sensitive skin and I got scared.  As soon as I whimpered, he withdrew and put his face right up to mine.  With eyes that are dark, like holes into the void, it is impossible to say what he was focused on but he was watching me.

His body bunched up so that his hips were between mine.

That’s when I felt it.

The fringe wasn’t just fringe.  It started to move like dozens of little tentacles, swirling over me, exploring every surface.

“Are you going to make me stop?”

I closed my eyes and thought about it.  I still didn’t know what safe word he meant, but this was strangely nice.  It was like many wet and sticky fingers gently caressing me.  I sighed a little and that’s when they became more insistent.  They started pulling on me, tugging on any piece of skin they could coil around.  Occasionally one or two would poke inside of me.  Some of it was nice, but it was too random to be errotic.

“Ok,” I said, “good try.  Now let me up, my shoulders are starting to -” I stopped as they started to pour into my body.   One or two at a time, filling me ever fuller.  More and more pouring into me, filling me so full my body felt like I was going to burst.  I couldn’t even find words.  I was keening and helpless to stop.

He smirked down looking into my wide eyes.  “Want me to move now?”

I nodded.

I could feel the tendrils wrapping around themselves.  Tying themselves into one thick knot. His head bowed and he ran his tongue over my neck and down my chest.  It was scratchy like a cats and incredibly prehensile.  His hips weren’t moving at all, but I could feel his tendrils burrowing into me.  He licked up my chest and neck, the lapped at my cheek.  “I wanted to taste you.”  He was still looking into my eyes, into my very soul.

Then he began to move and my eyes rolled back into my head before falling shut.

The restraints on my ankles pushed up forcing my knees to bend and my legs to open was wide as they could and he slammed into me like he was trying to split me in two.  My body writhed and my back arched and he licked me again from nave to lips before sliding his tongue into my mouth until I choked on it.  As he pulled back, I coughed and gasped for air my body spasming and clenching around him.  “Good,” he purred.  “Now this time, suck.”

I was impossibly, painfully full, being spit roasted by a single mostrous being.  Then he pulled away from my mouth and reared up.  “Cum!” he roared.

And, with a splash, I did, screaming his name, ”ABRXZ!”

WIth a flash and a whiff of brimstone, he was gone.

Demons are shit at aftercare.

[inyournightmares97]

Antipathy, part three

In which Park Jinyoung, a possibly murderous cat hybrid, makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Warnings: Possible strong language and hybrid!Jinyoung.

Word Count: 2.9k

part one  part two  part four  part five  part six

“What possessed you to adopt a hybrid like that?” you demanded hotly. It was only after you’d written your exam and attended all your classes for the day that you could manage to get hold of Nari. You had a sneaking feeling that she had been avoiding you, but you eventually cornered her in the cafeteria at lunch. She blinked at you innocently while biting into her sandwich.

“Hey there,” she greeted you. “Is something wrong with Jinyoung?”

You opened your mouth and hesitated. Where did you even begin? “He’s extremely rude!” you burst out. “He’s ungrateful, he constantly looks at me like I’m trash and I’m starting to believe that he did try to kill Yugyeom! Are hybrids supposed to be like that? I thought they were more sweet and innocent!”

“Well, they are part human so they all have different personalities-“

“And you stuck me with the one that has the shittiest personality possible?” you demanded.

Nari sighed, putting her sandwich down. She scooted her chair closer to you and you noticed that her face had suddenly become serious. “I expected you to be a little more understanding about this,” Nari said firmly. “I told you, Jinyoung’s owner was an old man who died recently. He’s probably grieving and he’s been carted around unfamiliar places since then. Sure, he’s not as happy and cheerful as Jackson and Yugyeom but that’s because he’s going through a hard time. Would you resent a human for not being perfectly amicable after they’d lost someone? There’s no need to set different standards to hybrids.”

You pouted at her. “I wouldn’t have had to take care of a random human for a week.”

“He hasn’t caused any trouble, has he?”  

You bit your lip. Well, technically now, Jinyoung hadn’t caused any problems as such, you just didn’t like having him around. You valued your privacy and alone time so it was frustrating to have a hostile presence in your home.

“No, he hasn’t caused any trouble,” you admitted reluctantly.

“Good. I’m asking around at the shelter and some other people I know, we’ll find him a home soon.”

You left campus feeling a little disappointed with yourself. Nari was right. It wasn’t like you to be so uncaring. You had no idea what struggles Jinyoung had been going through recently and it hadn’t even occurred to you to ask. Despite the fact that Jinyoung had been dumped on you unceremoniously, it wouldn’t kill you to show some compassion. Maybe you should try being a little nicer to him. He might even open up to you.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

You stopped by the hybrid shelter on the way home and explained to the nice lady near the desk that you’d recently adopted a cat hybrid and needed some help. She was only too happy to write you out a list of foods that cat hybrids typically enjoyed and even explained to you that cat hybrids liked to keep themselves well-groomed. You had no idea what that meant, but she just told you to keep some nice-smelling shower gels and other toiletries around.

It took you forever to finish buying all the stuff on the list. You finally trudged up the stairs to your apartment in the afternoon, struggling to carry the bags and forcing a smile on your face. You were going to be nicer to Jinyoung and not let his behavior get to you.

“Jinyoung!” you called out lightly.

Jinyoung was sitting in your living room, curled up on the sofa with a blanket draped across his legs while he watched television. His eyes flickered to yours calmly. He merely raised an eyebrow at you before his gaze turned meaningfully to the clock on the wall. You grunted as you put all your bags on the dining table and straightened up.

“I know I said I’d be back by noon, but I went shopping for some stuff,” you explained. Jinyoung didn’t move from the couch but he was eyeing the shopping bags with interest. You opened the one closest to you and pulled out some things you’d picked up at the bakery. “I got tuna sandwiches! I stopped by the shelter and found out what cat hybrids generally like but it would be nice if you told me your personal preferences too,” you explained as you unwrapped the tuna sandwiches.

You turned around to go get plates from the kitchen, but froze when you realized that Jinyoung was already standing right behind you. When did he even get up from the sofa? Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked up at him; wow, he was a lot taller than you. Jinyoung was biting his plump lips, eyes fixed on the sandwich in your hands. His eyes flickered up to yours, looking slightly hopeful.

“Or you can just… here,” you muttered, handing him the sandwich without a plate.

Jinyoung’s tongue darted out to lick his lips lightly before he grabbed the sandwich from you and took an enormous bite. You couldn’t help but smile; he looked rather adorable and harmless when he was eating. The bites he was taking were too big for his mouth and his cheeks bulged out as he chewed quickly. He kept glancing at you nervously and you folded your arms across your chest. Why did Jinyoung eat like that? Was it normal for hybrids to stuff everything into their mouths in a matter of seconds or was there a reason he ate so quickly?

Jinyoung seemed uncomfortable with you watching so you decided to turn away and go into the kitchen to get a plate for yourself. You’d just put your own sandwich on it and returned to the dining table when you realized that his hands were empty. Was he done already? You gaped at him for a few seconds and blinked.

“Did you just… did you just finish that sandwich in ten seconds?” you asked, eyes wide.

Jinyoung blinked. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were on the plate in your hands. You looked down at the plate and without thinking, handed it to him. He took it warily and you forced a smile at him. “It’s yours,” you told him quickly. “I, uh, I had a bite to eat after class so I’m not hungry.”

He took the plate from you and sat down at the dining table to eat the second sandwich more slowly. You sat down across from him and watched him carefully. Why was Jinyoung so mysterious? You wished he would open up to you but you had a feeling that he would shy away if you tried to speak to him. “Jinyoung…” you said quietly. His eyes flickered up to yours. “You have eaten something since morning, right?”

He blinked at you and shook his head lightly.

You gaped at him. It was almost 2 pm, how could he not have eaten anything all day? You suddenly felt guilty for leaving for classes early in the morning without saying anything to him. Why wouldn’t he eat when he was so hungry? “I know my fridge isn’t fully stocked, exactly, but there’s plenty of cereal and milk and eggs. I’m pretty sure there’s some bread too. Why wouldn’t you eat breakfast?”

Jinyoung looked at you calmly. “You weren’t here,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I had an exam.”

He blinked at you, his head cocked slightly. “Exactly, you weren’t here to feed me.”

What is he saying? Am I supposed to serve him his meals every day?  You cleared your throat and wondered why it was so difficult to communicate with someone who was speaking the same language as you. You ran your fingers through your hair and sighed in frustration. “Jinyoung, I’m not always going to be here. I have classes to attend and a lot of other stuff going on. I understand if you can’t cook but you need to at least open the fridge and eat something even if I’m not here. I mean, I’ll feed you as long as I’m here but at mealtimes, you need to feed yourself.”

Jinyoung watched you with wide eyes. “Feed myself?” he repeated, confused.

You were getting frustrated now. “Look, I don’t know what kind of royal treatment you’re used to, but I can’t wait on you hand and foot!” you told him firmly. “There’s food in the fridge, if I’m not around then eat it yourself. See that jar on the counter? I always keep some change in that so you can order takeout even if there’s nothing at home. Takeout menus are under the coffee table. Okay? Can you do that much?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Good. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. I’m not going to sit and feed you every meal so don’t expect that from me,” you repeated firmly. You sighed and dragged the other shopping bags towards you, starting to take out the other groceries. Jinyoung sat quietly at the dining table and finished his sandwich while you unpacked the rest of the groceries. You were almost done when you heard the doorbell ring. Who was here in the middle of the afternoon? You trudged over to the front door and opened it.

Your next-door neighbor, Ilsung, stood in front of you. He was a large man who was about five or six years older than you and had been extremely sweet about helping you move in when you came here a year ago. He’d even helped you fix a leak in your shower once and you were eternally grateful that he’d saved you from having to call a plumber.

“Oh, Ilsung-oppa,” you greeted pleasantly. “How are you- oh my god. What happened to your face?”

Ilsung’s usually smiling face was marred by a line of thin scratches along the side. They weren’t very deep but they were bright red, and looked extremely fresh. You looked at him with big eyes and noticed that he was frowning.

“Your hybrid did this to me about an hour ago.”

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you looked at your scratches. It was certainly very likely that the scratches were made by nails. “Jinyoung?” you repeated, shocked. He’d scratched Ilsung across the face? You opened and closed your mouth for a moment, and then opened your door wider. “Oh God. Oppa, please come in, you should put some antiseptic cream on these scratches or you’ll get an infection. I’ll get my first aid kit…”

Ilsung followed you into the living room. Jinyoung was still sitting there and the moment he saw Ilsung, he stood up and let out a low growl. His entire body was tensed up and you glared at him. Is he really dangerous? How could he scratch my neighbor? You were extremely irritated. Not only did Jinyoung treat you like shit but he was even hurting people now?

“Jinyoung, go inside,” you said firmly.

He turned and glared at you, his fists clenched at his side. His back was slightly arched and you could tell that he was trembling. “No. I won’t go inside, tell him to leave the house-“ Jinyoung began in a low voice, but you’d had enough.

“Jinyoung, go inside,” you snapped.

He gave you a long, torn look but he couldn’t speak. Hybrids had no choice but to obey their owners when clear orders were given, it was their natural instinct. Jinyoung clearly didn’t want to leave but he turned around and walked into the study, slamming the door shut behind him. You let out a breath of relief and then hurried into the kitchen to grab your first aid kit. You sat Ilsung down on the sofa and helped him clean the scratch, worried.

Ilsung sighed and gave you a forced smile. “Yah, it’s okay, you don’t have to do this-“

“No, he’s my hybrid. I’m so sorry about Jinyoung, I’m taking care of him as a favor and I don’t know why he’s behaving this way,” you admitted, embarrassed. Ilsung had always been an extremely sweet and helpful neighbor, you felt terrible that this had happened because of you. “What happened? Why did he attack you out of nowhere?”

Ilsung sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d just stepped out of my apartment to head out for a walk with Youngjae. Jinyoung came out of your apartment and tried to attack Youngjae in the hallway; he’s a rabbit hybrid so he was obviously terrified. I tried to get in between them to protect Youngjae and I got scratched.”

You felt your heart sink. “Oh my God. Is Youngjae all right?”

Ilsung chuckled. “A little startled, but he’s fine. Rabbit hybrids are extremely sensitive, they get nervous around other predatory hybrids. But I hope you know that your hybrid is unusually aggressive. I’ve never seen a cat hybrid that just leaps at people like that.”

You bit your lip. “Jinyoung just doesn’t socialize very well with other hybrids, that’s why I brought him here-“

Ilsung hissed as you gently dabbed antiseptic on his scratches and then looked up at you reluctantly. “You know, I hate to say this to you because you’ve always been a great neighbor, but… hybrids with behavioral problems and aggression aren’t allowed to stay in communal spaces like apartment buildings. You’re lucky that it’s me he attacked. Anybody else could make a complaint to the building manager and both you and Jinyoung would be evicted.”

You froze. “That’s not… really?”

“He’s hurting people.”

Ilsung was right. You dropped your hands at your sides, feeling awful. You certainly would have made a complaint to the building manager if somebody’s hybrid had attacked you out of nowhere. Hybrids had all the strength of human beings and the instincts of an animal, they could be dangerous when they were out of control. “I’m so sorry about this,” you whispered. “I promise he’ll be out of here soon. My friend’s looking for another home for him soon, I don’t plan on keeping him. Please don’t tell anyone? If you want to go to the hospital for your scratches then I’ll take care of the medical bill-“

Ilsung chuckled and placed his hands on your arms gently. “Hey, hey, don’t worry about it. This wasn’t a major incident. But you should be careful. That he doesn’t hurt anyone else, and that he doesn’t hurt you. Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Okay. I’m going to get going. Thanks for cleaning me up.”

“No problem. I hope Youngjae’s not too shaken up.”

“He gets shaken up by the birds pecking at the window, there’s not much anyone can do about that,” Ilsung chuckled as he stood up to leave. “Bye.”

You walked him to the door and let out a deep breath as you closed the front door after him. Your heartbeat was thudding and you leaned against the door for a moment to collect your thoughts. This wasn’t working. Jinyoung’s behavior was out of control. How could he attack your neighbor? You had taken him in as a favor and this is the sort of chaos he was creating in your life?

You walked over to the study and opened the door. Jinyoung was sitting on the floor in the corner, his knees pulled up against his chest. His sharp eyes glared at you when you entered and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What is wrong with you?” you demanded loudly.

Jinyoung remained silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. His arms were wrapped around his legs tightly and he avoided looking at you. You felt your anger increase. Wasn’t he even going to apologize, didn’t he realize that he’d caused a lot of trouble? You folded your arms across your chest and frowned at him.

“Jinyoung. You could have gotten me evicted from my apartment today. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? It’s bad enough that you treat me like shit and glare at me all the time, I’ll put up with it but you can’t go around hurting other people without a reason!” you cried. Jinyoung remained unmoving, he wasn’t even looking at you. “You’re twenty-three years old, how can you be so immature?”

Jinyoung eyes flickered up to you angrily. “Who said I didn’t have a reason?” he hissed.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Is there a reason why you attacked the innocent rabbit hybrid next door? Youngjae’s literally afraid of ordinary pigeons, am I supposed to believe he did something to provoke you? Tell me what your reason is, I’d love to hear it.”

“No, you clearly don’t want to hear it at all,” Jinyoung replied firmly.

You stared at him for a long moment. His soft black ears were pressed flat against his head and you could see his hands trembling. There was something wrong with him, you knew it, but you weren’t equipped to deal with it. What does he want? Grieving or not, you couldn’t afford to take care of a hybrid that could possible get you thrown out onto the streets with his behavior. He would just get sent to another shelter but you would have to deal with the consequences in your life.

“If you’re going to behave like this… then it’s going to be hard for me to take care of you,” you told him firmly.

Jinyoung let out a small scoff and his eyes were cold when he looked up at you.

“You never intended to keep me around for long anyway.”

[imagine-loki]

Irked

Title: Irked

Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal.

Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #15 Rating: Teen

While continuing to grocery shop, Loki was piling things into their cart so quickly, he was able to devise a plan. Each time Shandi tossed in something unhealthy, he’d sneak it out, replacing it with an alternative. To her, it simply appeared he’d shuffled things about. Then once in line, he suggested she wait in the car, while he took care of the rest.

“I can stay and help.” She replied.

“Wouldn’t you rather relax in the air-conditioned car?”

“Its air conditioned in here too, I don’t mind.”

The moment the person ahead finished up, Loki ushered her past the cashier. “We’ve a lot of meat, darling. The cooler the car, the better.”

“It’s not ‘that’ long of a drive.”

“Elizabeth.” His penetrating gaze and kind, yet insistent tone, left no room for further discussion.

“Okay, I’m going. Sheesh.”

Loki came out shortly after, stuffed all the bags into the trunk and they started back to the house.

“What was that about?” She asked.

“I thought you’d prefer being off your feet while making the car cooler.”

“And for the sake of all that meat?”

“Exactly.”

Her brow crinkled. “Then why is everything in the trunk?”

“Well…what’s your point, Lizzy? Is there an actual point to all this?”

Once arriving, she went to use the washroom and when done, Loki was waiting at the door.

“Where’s all the food?” She asked.

“I put it away already.”

“That fast?”

He smiled. “Didn’t I say magic was a wondrous thing?”

On the return ride, they discussed a few things.

“Alice must be using the ovens of a local Bakery to prepare for the fair.” Said Loki. “It makes sense. One home oven could never prepare enough baked goods for a large, three day event.”

Shandi couldn’t help but find his comment rather amusing and it showed on her face.

“Still finding it difficult to comprehend a prince of Asgard, cooks?”

“Yep and bakes.”

“Of which I’m pleased you’re no longer concerned to eat. You still haven’t revealed what all the fuss was about?”

Shandi glanced out the window. “I’m not discussing that with you Loki.”

He stifled a smirk. “As you wish, but I’m not the only Alien Prince that does. Upon returning here, I was a buffoon in the kitchen. Thor took me shopping and once showing me some basics of cooking, left me to myself. After the appliances and I had some..disagreements, which Tony took delight in critiquing following his initial panic, I resorted to a diet similar to yours.”

“Why was he panicked?”

“He was passing by my apartment one morning at the exact moment I set something ablaze in the kitchen, heard the fire alarm and demanded entrance. Fortunately, magic saved the Tower from a visit by the fire department, as I hadn’t learned how to use the extinguisher yet.”

Her brows rose. “What happened with the appliances?”

Loki then mocked Tony’s voice. “So, tell me Cactus. How does one who can teleport and make clones of himself, fuck up two toaster ovens, then a top of the line microwave, a high end coffee maker and today, simultaneously set two pans of bacon and omelet on fire?”

She chuckled. “You did all that?”

“I did. Had he have had some patience, I might’ve dressed before answering, too.”

“Did you answer the door in your underwear?”

“I’m certain he would have preferred that.” Shandis mouth fell open and Loki smirked. “I told you the day we arrived here, I sleep naked.”

“But you were cooking.”

“I had been wearing a robe, but overheated and removed it.”

She chuckled, again. “Poor Tony. What did he say?”

“He was banging away as I casually approached, ignoring his flare for dramatics.”… “What the hell’s going on in there Cactus? Open the…MOTHER OF GOD!!! HAVE YOU NO SCRUPLES?”

That did it. Between envisioning Tony’s expression and the way Loki mocked his mannerisms, Shandi was in stitches. “What happened then?”

“He scurried past me, inspecting things while I sauntered towards my robe and nonchalantly re adorned it. Since then, he has Jarvis inform me when he’s coming to assure I’m ‘decent.’”

“I fully believe that. Didn’t you read any of the instructions for those appliances, or extinguisher?”

“Pshh, whatever for? I came from an advanced realm, a God no less. Certainly without aid, I wouldn’t encounter difficulty operating Midgardian gadgets.”

“Oh. Is that why you put too much liquid into the blender at the staff kitchen, then?”

Loki recalled the incident. “I hadn’t put the lid on tight enough, was all.”

“Well, there’s always duct tape if Mr. Preston has one you’d like to use.” She cackled at his eyes rolling. “So, you were saying about your diet?”

“It was atrocious, much like yours.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Shandi, as a God, I’ve the strength no human could fathom and as you know, a large appetite. The amount of processed foods I was consuming, with all their chemicals, was negatively affecting ‘my’ energy levels. I can’t imagine how it’s affecting you.”

“I guess having eaten like a Prince, you wouldn’t be used to such things. Most average people, are.”

“And in the process, you’re subjecting yourself to a slow poisoning.”

‘Man.’ She thought. ‘He gets weirder by the hour.’ “Loki, what’s with the big interest in my diet all of a sudden?”

“Alright.” He coolly replied. “Seeing you so ill the other day, I was reminded of my own unpleasant plight. If you wish, perhaps I can help you prevent that from reoccurring. It’s up to you.”

Shandi was baffled by his recent behavior and the troublesome wish it were sincere. More than she cared to admit. She recalled Nat revealing his actions towards the family of a boy killed by the Chitauri, along with Thor and Steve’s conversation about how upset he was after an incident with a little girl in a restaurant. Was there a warmer side of himself, purposely kept concealed? Why? Another thought secretly pondered came to mind. One she’d soon get an opportunity to ask.

“Thank you for your concern.” She kindly replied. “I’ll consider it, okay? I was thinking about Laura being so outspoken. If we keep interacting with her, she may inadvertently teach us more about the family.”

Loki noted how quickly the subject was changed and let it go. “Possibly, but regarding Alice. If Nat doesn’t report seeing her at Beth’s shop today and we don’t during lunch hours at the park, I think it unwise to visit that Bakery just yet. It would imply traipsing around town the entire day with a car full of food and one who’s quite pregnant. Not a likely scenario.”

“True.” Shandi replied. “Alice may not be inclined to socialize either, being so busy.”

“She may. According to Laura, we made an impression. If we miss her at both places today and tomorrow, then we’ll go. It’s still another window of opportunity, we hadn’t known existed.”

By the time they re entered town, it was close to lunch and Loki stopped at a small Deli, before heading to the park. Shandi claimed not to be hungry and waited in the car. Upon returning, he plunked a medium sized bag and two large drinks into her lap.

“We may be there a while, so I bought you a veggie Pita and frozen fruit, smoothie.”

Shandi eyed everything. ‘Yep. Definitely getting stranger by the hour.’

After seeking out the same shaded bench as before, they ate while Loki kept a close eye out from behind dark shades. People slowly began entering the park, but there was no sign of the ladies. In case they did appear, he advised Shandi to start enacting the exercises he’d thought of. The idea was, he’d remain on the bench, or follow her from a short distance, while she walked nervously, throughout the park. Should Alice witness this, it would hopefully open an opportunity to explain Shandis actions. He suggested she start by buying more birdseed and after briefly chatting with the kid who sells it, she returned.

“This town gets smaller all the time. His name is Dylan and guess who his grandmother is?”

“Who?” Loki asked.

“Mrs. Carter. He mentioned witnessing our interaction with Beth and Alice and you were right. The two use her ovens every year for the fair.”

“How did you learn that?”

“I mentioned they were nice and hoped to see them around again. Then he recommended Beth’s shop and said Alice is usually at the Bakery every day, from now until the fair.”

“How kind of him.” Loki approvingly remarked. After a brief walk, Shandi began feeding the birds and kept glancing in his direction. “Something on your mind, oh pot bellied one?”

“Very funny, Clifford. I was thinking of how I’m still trying to comprehend, that humans aren’t alone in the universe.”

“That was unexpected, yet I imagine most of your people feel the same. Did 'you’ think you were?” He politely asked.

“I hadn’t any definite proof otherwise, until you and Thor. The universe is a massive place though and I’ve always considered it naive, assuming ourselves it’s only tenants.”

“And to your benefit, you’re not.”

The compliment overshadowed a building knot in her stomach of what response the next question may elicit. ‘It’s only going to keep bugging you. Dammit girl, where’s your gonads? Just ask him!’ “As a race, do you guys think us inferior?” Loki froze, concealing a scrutinizing gaze behind his glasses. Unable to escape the weight of it, Shandi returned to the birds. ‘Great. Of all times to lack the ability to teleport.’

Loki wondered if this related to his previous actions against her realm. “You’re certainly behind in many aspects, but no. Why would you ask such a thing, Shandi?”

It wasn’t really Thor’s opinion she’d grown concerned about, but including him had made the question easier to ask. Confident she could never care for one who thought himself above her own kind, the hope was to gain an inkling into Lokis true opinion, by catching him off guard. The reasons behind not asking them both sooner, were true.

“Curiosity. I would’ve felt awkward asking Thor.”

'Interesting.’ He thought. “Why? I thought you liked him.”

“I do. He’s kind, gentlemanly and funny, but I hardly see him unless it’s work related. I haven’t had a chance to really ‘talk’ with him.”

Loki recalled the times she’d remained in her apartment, after seeing him about the Tower. "Between us both, who have you seen around more?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask, if it didn’t.”

“Okay, you.” She replied.

“At any point until now, had you wanted to ask me such things?”

She shifted awkwardly, in her seat. “Look, why don’t we forget it Loki? I hadn’t meant for my question to make you feel uncomfortable.”

How she could even consider his feelings about anything, remained astounding to him. “You didn’t. It surprised me, was all. Had you ever wanted to?” He politely, persisted.

“Yes, but…” 'Damn.’ She suddenly thought. 'I shouldn’t have started this.’

Loki asked again. “But what Shandi, I’d really like to know?”

"Whenever possible I, avoided you.”

And Loki thought he felt like a dick, before. She’d really wished to talk to him and he’d senselessly, pushed her away. “Shandi, I…” His sentence was interrupted by a text. “We’re up Lizzy. Alice just parked and took food into Beth’s shop.”

All they discussed on route, was encountering Nat and Clint and upon entering, were greeted by an unsuspecting Beth, pricing items with her mouth half full. “Oh, hello. Please excuse me, it’s normally quiet this time of day and I was indulging. How are you?”

“Good thanks.” Said Shandi. “Don’t let us stop you.”

Beth smiled. “Goodness, if you sampled what I am, you’d understand. Wait, do you like strawberries?”

Shandi was about to respond, when Loki did. “She loves them. Blueberries, even more.” Her brow arched.

“Then you must try something.” Beth headed for the back room and moments later, returned holding open a plastic container. Inside were mini strawberry and blueberry tarts. The fruit sat amidst a rich, creamy custard with just the right sweetness and the pastry, practically melted in their mouths.

“Those are delicious.” They stated.

Alice spoke up from the doorway. “Why, thank you.” After greeting each other with pleasantries, she continued. “Those are only a sample of what will be at the fair. You really must come.”

Shandi lowered her eyes and Loki stroked her hair. “We’re thinking about it, aren’t we Lizzy?”

She nodded and uncertain what to make of their interaction, Beth retreated. “Very good. Let me know if you need any help.” She’d almost reached Alice when Shandi whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lizzy, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

Beth then raised her brows at Alice when seeing Nat notice Shandi, through the shop window. Seconds later, she entered and Clint remained near the door. Loki took a double take, then protective stance, towards Shandi and Nat froze, about five feet away.

“I won’t come any closer. I saw you and…” Her shoulders slumped as Loki and Shandi, remained stoic. “We’ve an only daughter. She lives far away and is about to have a baby and…”

“Ella.” Clint, kindly interrupted.

Nat sighed. "It’s no excuse and I shouldn’t have touched you.” She stretched out her arm, holding a small gift bag towards Shandi. “This is for your baby. I hope you like it and I’m sorry.”

Loki and Shandis expressions softened as she slowly took the bag. “Thank you.”

Nat nodded, then headed towards Clint and once outside, they hugged. Shandi pulled a small teddy bear from the bag, that played a lullaby and glanced up at Loki.

“I know what your thinking, darling. You don’t need to consult me, go on.” When Shandi went outside, he turned to see Beth and Alice with their eyes glossed over and winked. “It’s good to see her make a friend. We haven’t any here.” Moments later, she re entered. “I gather that went well?” He asked.

Shandi smiled. “It did. They’re vacationing here for the summer at a nearby cottage and suggested we meet for drinks.”

“Sounds like a plan. Did they say when?”

"No, but I got her number.”

“Perfect, yet you’re prohibited.“ He teased. "If you recall, one too many is how we ended up in this predicament in the first place?”

Shandi looked to see the ladies, smirking. “How thoughtful of you to remind me, Clifford.” ‘Brat.’ She thought.

Alice chuckled. “I’ve seven children, four of whom were conceived under the same circumstances.”

“Speaking of.” Said Loki. “We met your daughters at the grocery store, earlier. Laura, our first day in town. Both are lovely.”

The ladies thanked him.

“We understand you met one who isn’t so lovely, as well.” Beth commented.

“According to Laura, that’s correct.” Said Loki.

"Only Laura?” ‘Shit woman, what’s wrong with you?’

Loki almost cackled. “She was entertaining to say the least, darling. Perhaps you’d like a basket to shop with?”

“Yes, please.”

After retrieving one, he feigned interest in a crib display, hoping the three would talk more. It worked and once the ladies stopped within a respectable distance of Shandi, he heard their whispers, perfectly.

“Laura said Tanya failed at flirting with your husband?” Asked Beth.

Shandi nodded.

“Good, but take heed.“ Said Alice. "The first opportunity that arises, she 'will’ try again.”

Being such strangers, Shandi found their openness amusing, yet wanted to learn more about this woman. "Even though…”

Beth slowly shook her head. “She doesn’t care if your married, pregnant, or both, so keep him close.”

“Clifford’s a good man. He doesn’t get much time away from me.” Shandi solemnly, stated.

“Trust us.” Said Alice. “Whatever his reasons, consider them a blessing. Tanya is well known for her 'slutty’ tactics and has gotten to the best of them.” She smiled at Shandis widened eyes. “Bet you never expected to hear that from an old lady.”

Beth offered her another tart. “At least you know one to avoid, if you’re looking to make friends in this town.”

“I am.” Shandi replied. “And we’ll ‘both’ be avoiding her.”

Loki smirked at the sarcasm in her tone.

“Good.” Said Alice. “What about making friends with a couple of seniors? “We’re busy preparing for the fair right now, but once it’s over, you’re welcome to join us for tea. Or coffee, which ever you prefer.”

Beth gave her a look. "If you like referring to yourself as ancient, be my guest. I, for one, am still a spring chicken.”

Alice sighed. “Whose days of laying eggs, have long ceased.”

Shandi chuckled at their teasing banter, while startled by her luck and gave Alice her number. “I look forward to that very much.“ Then she noticed Loki inspecting different boxes of mobiles. "I’d best get over there, before he gets too curious.”

“Would he open something again?” Asked Beth.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, if he liked it enough.”

‘I resent that.’ Thought Loki. Seeing her approach, he purposely held up a model with what appeared to have miniature, hairy Teletubbies on it.

“You can put that back now, Clifford.”

He tisked. "Party pooper.”

[the-rawl]

my imaginary friend saves my life on the regular

I lived in an unpleasantly run-down house in a third-world country with my younger brother, and my parents, who were missionaries. My entire peer group had moved away in the space of six months, leaving me the only fifteen-year-old in our community.

Since only seven children between the ages of thirteen and seventeen remained, the co-op school neglected to hire a teacher to cover our grades, leaving our parents to negotiate their own means. Mine enrolled me in an online school, conducted via online chat and screensharing -- I never saw my classmates' or my teachers' faces. My parents were quite preoccupied with their mutual work, so that the family rarely ate together or spoke except for purely practical reasons. I was terrifically lonely.

No one noticed how late I stayed up, or how late I slept in, or whether I did my homework or attended class or ate regularly. I ate a lot of chocolate -- a bar of dark chocolate a day, sometimes -- and read every book in my collection over and over again, trying to become the characters, and have their problems, which were always solved by the end of the series. I ate toast when I was hungry, because when the power was on it was easy to make. I cried a lot. Some nights, about two in the morning, I'd walk around the silent house and the courtyard in the dark, too miserable to sit still or to sleep or to read. I remember looking up at the sky through the grapevines on the arbor and wondering if this was rock bottom, if I could possibly feel worse.

Well, I could.

long text post under the cut

My mom and I went to the shop down the street for groceries. It was probably a fifteen minute walk, both ways. Early on the way back, some young local man made an inappropriate gesture at me, and after we passed him, followed us for a short way. My mom told me I needed to walk with more confidence, that I looked like a target. I was afraid.

After that, getting home seemed to take forever. It was like I existed in dark fog with the consistency of cotton candy, thick, and cloying. Sound seemed muffled, like being underwater. I was cold.

I got to my room on autopilot. I laid down. I was at the bottom of a well, knee-deep in cold water. I couldn't see day at the top, just some specs of light, stars maybe. I couldn't get out. I had something living in my chest, thick and black, stinking like tar, or like rotten vegetation. If you cut me open it would seep out without depleting, like an infection. I had a hood over my head that smelled like dust from a closet that hasn't been opened in years. There was a pain in the back of my throat, like I needed to cough, or scream, but I couldn't make a sound. My bedroom light, a bare bulb, had a fuzzy halo around it when I looked up, so I knew it was on. But the corners of the room were dark.

That was the first time I thought about killing myself. Eventually I fell asleep.

When I woke up it was morning, and I was hungry. Emotionally, there was nothing. I'd been pressed flat between two slabs of concrete. I was a single grain of sand on a tile floor. I got up and made toast. Then I cleaned the rabbit hutches, and pulled down hay for them.

When I'd finished my chores I went to my laptop and plugged in the usb stick for accessing the satellite internet. I was only supposed to use it for school, but last night had told me that I wasn't just sad all the time -- there was something wrong with me, and if I didn't do something, I was probably going to die. That didn't sound all that bad, except that me dying would be a terrible burden on my family.

That's how I learned I was depressed, that it was a legitimate medical condition, and that I had no access to any of the resources the websites recommended -- not therapy, not medication, not social support (I didn’t feel like I could approach my parents at the time, although I eventually did, which lead to some major life changes later on).

I also learned that the way I was feeling and the things I told myself weren't normally-calibrated responses to my environment. That I couldn't trust my own brain to interpret what was happening to me without applying a false negative patina. This would have been quite alarming if I had been able to muster any emotional response at all. What do you do, when you can't trust your own brain?

I needed someone or something that could be with me. That could tell me the truth, serve as a reality check, remind me of my options and the reasons I had chosen not to pursue some of them, and that could be available at any time of the day or night.

So I made myself an imaginary friend. Her name was Ka, and she was shaped like a little dragon, small enough to sit on my shoulder. She was green, and the edges of her scales were soft, and the tips of her talons were blunted -- she wasn't there to protect me from things around me. She was there to protect me from myself.

I knew that making a construct of this kind was dangerous, that I was relying on my own faulty brain to regulate what amounted to a second personality. But I was at the point where having an alternate personality or a voice in my head could hardly make anything worse. I put in some safeguards, choosing to trust in my ability to create and maintain them.

Ka could only ever tell the entire, unbiased truth, and she couldn't force me to do anything. I wasn't allowed to give her the driver's seat. She couldn't interact with the physical world in any way, not as herself, and not through me. When I was very lonely, I would pretend she was sitting or walking next to me, but she only ever existed in my head.

I would wake up, and it would be two in the afternoon, and I would feel bad about wasting most of the day. But Ka would say, you are up now, and you didn't sleep for twelve hours this time, which is an improvement over yesterday. You have enough time to eat and to log in for your English class. Oatmeal would be a healthy alternative to toast. You could put honey in it.

I would forget to do my chores, and someone else would feed and sweep up after the rabbits. And I felt terrible about neglecting my animals, and I felt like I had been neglected, too, because whichever of my parents had done the work never brought it up, and I was desperate for some accountability. Then Ka would tell me that feeling bad about forgetting the rabbits was a good, reasonable thing, because it meant I recognised I had failed to maintain my responsibility to them. That before I look to my parents for accountability I needed to look to myself. That my parents had made sure my animals wouldn't suffer. That I had another chance not to make the same mistake. That possibly my parents hadn't failed to discipline me, but rather decided I had too much on my plate, and tried to be kind by not mentioning my lapse. That symptoms of depression include sleeping too much, tiredness, trouble thinking, concentrating, deciding, remembering, and so forgetting the animals was not entirely my fault. That I could forgive myself.

I would skip my most hated class, Biblical Worldview, and feel both guilty about doing it, and pleased with getting away with it, and confused and sad because while I was skiving I wasn't doing anything I enjoyed more, because I couldn't think of anything I would actually enjoy doing. Ka said, you're old and mature enough to decide for yourself whether attending lecture is necessary for you to understand the material in this unit. That if you made the wrong decision by not attending, the consequences will occur when you struggle with the homework. That some consequences will occur regardless in the form of your participation grade. That loss of interest in normal activities is a symptom. That choosing to do nothing rather than participating in an unpleasant activity is still an improved experience, and therefore a reasonable, if mildly hedonistic, decision.

When I thought about hurting myself, about hurting myself more than just digging fingernails into my arm without breaking the skin, Ka said that doing so was risky. I might experience a brief emotional relief by doing so, but the risk of infection or accident was considerable. That self-harm was noticeable, and as she reminded me, above all I didn't want to be noticed. That in all the stories or accounts I ever read about self harm, not one person failed to regret it later. That however much I might hate another person, I wouldn't take a knife to them. Why should my own body be an exception?

When I wanted to die... Ka said that by killing myself, I would abandon everything that would happen to me, and everything that I would do, and everything that I was responsible for. Yes, the pain would stop. Wanting to escape pain is normal. But the depression could ease, and that would also stop this particular suffering. If I died, who would finish the stories I wrote? If I died, our wandering outdoor cat might decide never to come home again -- I was her favorite. If I died, my parents would be very upset, and surprised (I don't think they understood the depth of my affliction until many years afterward). She said, even if you hate yourself, hate being yourself, there are creatures left who rely on your existence for their physical and emotional wellbeing. She said, cutting your ties to this place in that way means cutting all of them, even the good ones, even if there aren't many good ones left.

Ka wasn't all about dispensing sensible thoughts into my unbalanced brain. I would tell her stories, on my good days, and she would contribute to the plot. When I had a positive emotion (positive emotions were usually muted, when I felt them at all), she would echo that feeling back at me, so it was like hanging out with a friend who enjoys the same things you do. It was incredibly reassuring to be able to fall back onto her sensible, even-tempered presence when I felt anything but.

About a year later, motivated by my persistent mental health issues and my brother’s own health problems, my family moved back to the States, and I got some real psychiatric care, including counseling and a prescription. As my depression eased, I needed Ka less often, and eventually she retreated. She said I didn't need her anymore, and after a while, I didn't miss her. I made a few new friends. The sky seemed so much clearer for my last three years of high school. I rediscovered what it was like to enjoy life.

For many people, depression is a chronic condition. When I went to college, mine came back. Not quite as strong as before, because I recognised the symptoms early and started deploying coping mechanisms sooner. But it was there, that blackness welling from deep in my chest, creeping up my throat till eating made me feel sick. My dorm room was a poor refuge, because my roommate loved people, but not cleanliness. I had no support system, because I attended college out of state, and no one came with me.

I missed a lot of meals. I lost about fifteen pounds, and I was never heavy. I slept fourteen hours a day on weekends, and four hours on weekdays. I got all As, my first two years, with a full class load, in the engineering track.

At the end of one bad day, first semester of freshman year, I came back to a blessedly-empty dorm room, locked the door behind me, and had a panic attack on the floor. When that finished, I wanted something to make me feel better. Getting chocolate would mean leaving the room -- not an option. I had no comfort foods, my bedding was stale, the bathroom was grimy. No one I trusted lived within eight hundred miles. My betta fish swam to the surface when I lifted the tank cover, but it was not in their nature to be cuddly.

I remembered Ka. I wished she were there. I pulled at the spot where she used to be, wondering if I could recreate her, or something like her.

She uncurled, lifted her head, and said, "I'd hoped you'd look for me soon. I couldn't come back to help until you asked for me."

This depressive episode has lasted for four years, prolonged, I think, by my pigheaded stubbornness in pursuing a degree far past when the cost to my health exceeded the benefit higher education could bring me. And also by my parents' divorce precipitated by my dad's gender transition. I'm only recently starting to emerge from it, an improvement brought on mostly by my decision to drop out of college.

I haven't called on Ka as often as I did as a teenager. I have more access to external resources, these days, including finances, medication and trusted friends. But even now, if I tap at the part of my mind where she is, she'll uncurl and sleepily ask, "What is it?"

I think, "Just checking you're still there. Go back to sleep. I'm okay right now."

I'm not writing this down as advice; I'm not saying, if you're depressed, make yourself an imaginary friend. Don't do that, or if you must, make sure you know what you're doing, and the risks. What I wrote up there about constructs like Ka having the potential to be dangerous is real. I was careful, but I was also lucky.

I wrote this on the off chance that someone already has their own Ka, in the unlikely event that that person reads this, to let them know that they aren't the only one. And I'm hoping, a little, to learn I'm not the only one.