#my coach broke her toe right before a performance when she was in high school and had to be carried off the field

[lynsstrange]

Color guard/winter guard people, what is the worst injury you’ve ever sustained from it?

[briggsz]

* LUCY BOYNTON, CIS WOMAN + SHE/HER  | you know DECIMA MARNIE BRIGGS, right? they’re TWENTY-SIX, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, THEIR WHOLE LIFE ON & OFF? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to STARS ARE BLIND by PARIS HILTON like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole MUFFLED SCREAMS INTO SILK PILLOWS, GOING NUMB AFTER ICE BATHS & THE BELLYACHE YOU FEEL COMING IN SECOND PLACE thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is SEPTEMBER 15TH, so they’re a VIRGO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( b, twenty-two, gmt +3, she/her )

hellur...im back with My second baby . do i hav the brain cells 2 write them both ? no <3 bt im delusional n sexy like tht . here’s her . awful pinterest board ! hmu here or on discord if you’d like to plot . u want to plot bc u love me n decima so much . ( gentle godmod )

the much needed update: basically decima is an ex Olympic athlete tryna change her whole life n become an influencer / youtuber bc it’s all she cn do at the moment. everything she does, she gives her 110% .. doesn’t mean she succeeds either. struggles w the change bc shes so used to Living one way ( waking up @ 4 am , practicing fr 8 hrs a day , etc. ) 

ok so decima’s a new muse n if i fuck up . no i don’t <3 i’ll figure her out eventually pls dnt leave skjdhfj i lit rally tried to write this intro 3 times n i hated it each time so this is probably the Worst out of 3 bt here u go.

inspo: rachel reid (the wilds), kendall roy (succession), astrid sloan (the politician), monica geller (friends), haley keller (crawl), kat baker (spinning out), gracie hart (miss congeniality)

ok mr briggs is an ex pro-athlete n he’s the coach fr the town’s .. sports team i dont know Shit abt sports so u nod n look away 

he n his wife, alana adopted decima when she was 13 . she has two younger siblings . always felt like she cldn’t be the Responsible older sister bc had Hard time adjusting to the briggs household. not because she wasn’t welcomed, no, because she was simply trying Too damn hard. 

her life before briggs fam .. she never talks abt it , involves a deadbeat father n a teenage mother. cried for three hrs when she first called alana mom . 

thought sports would be the best way to connect with her dad, so she joined every sports club until she settled on skating . 

juggling school work n such a consuming , competitive activity .. yea ... she started to crumble under the Pressure bt asking for help ? with Tht much virgo on her chart ? nt happening </3

isolated herself from her friends n peers bc the path 2 glory is lonely .. so she thot .. 

channelled her 110% to figure skating, but something was .. missing. she no longer enjoyed skating, only did it to prove herself she cld, because her family expected her to be perfect . delusional . her parents only wanted her to be happy bt she was blinded by her ambition rip .

21, no uni degree, still skating, she met archie while on nationals.

they hit it off , for a while decima ws doing really good bc it was healthy , she had a life outside her practices , made new friends .. didn’t last for long : ) 

the highs were high n the lows .. they were . bad . ABUSE TW: he was mentally n physically abusive , decima started 2 skate more bc she just needed an escape and didn’t think of breaking up . why wld she ? she loved him , and he loved her .  : /

stayed with archie for almost 3 years, on & off. anyone cld see the damage except her .. until their last argument before The most important night of her life . TW END

she made a rookie mistake and fell while performing a quad toe loop, which was her way to the olympics. 

ironically, the death of her dream opened her eyes. she broke up with archie while she was still at the hospital, recovering from her fall

still skates , got her teaching certificate bt irving isn’t the best place to do so sdhjfk

is an influencer / youtuber . posts abt literally nothing important bt she’s using her pretty priviledge so shush

UhMMmM high pitched screams i cnt write it anymore i hate it here This makes no sense im so sorry

PERSONALITY WISE.....ok so . shes the Opposite of frederica </3 hard 2 please. finicky. aloof bt like ??? actually really warm n welcoming jst doesn’t know how to Present herself the best way .

v disciplined n sometimes feels weird abt it . as a skater it ws necessary bt now she’s only vlogging herself n posting shit online so ?? ?? cant balance idk . omg miss congeniality vibes . 

volatile .. i think .. tries 2 be nice n calm bt one off remark n she loses her shit

extremely ambitious n feels like a failure 99.9% the time rip

wears elaborate make up looks .

my body is my temple <3 vibes .... my ass

the Mom friend

cnt hold her drink . one beer n shes out

has her schedule n doesn’t like being late .

p much in l*ve with the idea of l*ve

uhm

ok so basically shes a mixture of babydoll n the jock if tht makes any sense if it doesnt . same

i hate it here

bt love her song and yes she listens to it regularly . paris follows on her insta . her biggest achievement .

[apparitionism]

Run

This is a pointless AU, a little idea from elsewhere that’s in the process of turning into a story-esque thing, not a comedy or a drama as such, just a “here’s another way two people might find their way to each other” tale. Also I’ve never deployed a Giselle character, really, and I figured I might as well try. She’s not a bad guy, mind you, nor even an obstacle; the only obstacles, at base, are misunderstandings and circumstances. Conventional ones. They might accurately be called clichéd. Anyway, this is some kind of starting line. Bang. (That’s meant to be a starter’s pistol, by the way; don’t be getting any ideas.)

Run

At four in the morning, Myka Bering sat three steps from the bottom of the dark staircase in her apartment’s foyer and pushed her feet into new running shoes. They looked like nothing special: a standard navy blue faux leather, with their manufacturer’s stylized “Z” logo embossed in silver on the sides. The pristine white of both the slim soles and the no-tie laces pleased her, despite the fact that their just-out-of-the-box luster would of course start graying at the first exposure to the city.

Myka stood up in the shoes and bounced on her toes, her ritual commencement of every day’s run.

The instant her heels left the ground, she understood just how difficult her life was about to become.

For this decidedly unspecial-seeming shoe—the Deceit—represented the latest attempt by the Zelus athletic corporation to gain an insurmountable advantage in the sport of running.

Myka’s job was to stop them.

*

At her desk at work later that morning, Myka revised, for accuracy, her overly dramatic thought of the morning: a small part of her job was to help stop them. Her actual job was to co-direct certification and compliance for Athletics Authority International, the globe-spanning organization that governed running, jumping, and throwing events. The organization regularly dealt with issues of equipment inappropriately boosting performance; thus Deceits, understood one way—nondramatically—were just the latest technological challenge to the idea of a level playing field.

But based on her morning’s run, Myka did not think Deceits could be understood nondramatically.

“Did you try the Deceits yet?” she asked Pete Lattimer, her co-directing partner. They had taken to joking that in their area, he was the “athletics”—an Olympic-team-alternate decathlete—while she was the “international,” for she’d got her job based largely on her wide-ranging language fluency. Myka suspected that today, athletics aside, his answer would be “no”; they’d received the shipment of test shoes only a few days ago, and Pete was focusing more on language than sports lately anyway, Duolingo-ing his heart out in Spanish so as to one day be able to impress Kelly Hernandez, head of Latin American outreach, such that she would first agree to go to lunch with him and then, swayed partially by his language skills but mostly by his charm, acknowledge that they were destined to spend their lives together. Myka wasn’t at all sure Kelly was going to persuaded by Pete’s bilingual (or “bilingual”) flirting... though he was also concentrating heavily on vocabulary related to sandwiches, so he’d probably end up with at least a food-related happy ending.

“Nah,” he said, confirming her prediction about the shoes. “I’m guessing you must’ve, though. They as crazy as those trials records make ’em seem?”

“Crazier,” Myka said. “To me. But I want to know how they really feel. To a real athlete.”

“Somebody needs a real athlete? I see why Lattimer’s not up to it,” remarked a tall woman as she approached Myka’s desk. Myka looked up and smiled.

“Same goes for you, Giselle,” Pete said, but with cheer. “How’s communications?”

“Turn those children over my knee if I could,” Giselle replied, equally cheerful. “That’s where you can help: how’s your javelin these days?”

“Why don’t you just run away? I thought you were supposed to be fast or something.”

Giselle Wade was fast—Myka knew it, and she knew Pete knew it too. Giselle was a legend in East Texas, where she had shattered high school track records, particularly at the longer distances. She’d done the same to NCAA times, placing some out of reach for what would probably be generations. U.S. bests had fallen to her too, though worlds had been elusive... but she had some impressive Olympic hardware all the same.

“Outran you,” Giselle said, which was true; her 1500-meter times were faster than Pete’s had ever been.

They would have gone on for a while before they wound down, but their jabs gave Myka the opening she needed. “Speaking of running,” she said to Giselle, “did you try the Deceits?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And exactly what you think,” Giselle said. Before Myka could get her to clarify, she went on, “And this very morning I heard Zelus wants to push a version with spikes for sprinters.”

Myka objected, “But the thin soles!” Sole height was a major issue. The Deceit’s predecessor shoe, the Zelus Induct—which had also given runners a clear advantage—had been recognizable due to its oversized sole, packed with lightweight foam, that effectively lengthened a runner’s legs. The sole contained within the foam a carbon plate that acted as a spring, enabling a stride that used less leg energy and thus translated into distance runners having more kick over an entire race. AAI had rapidly banned that shoe, but the Deceit upped the ante because it somehow managed to do all the Induct’s dirty work, and apparently even more, in a standard-sized sole. Sprinters’ soles were basically flat, though, so how could the foam and plates fit? Not to mention: “Why would Zelus want to start a fight on another front?”

“Some other company rolls out skinny little cheat spikes first if Zelus doesn’t get on it? Old story about the toothpaste and the tube? You know.” Giselle shrugged. “All we can do is try to slow it down.”

“Ha!” Pete barked. “I see what you did there! Slow it down! Fast shoes!”

Giselle shook her head and murmured “that man” mostly to herself, but a little bit to Myka, who nodded in sympathy a commensurate little bit. Then Giselle said, “Thank sweet Jesus I don’t have to run in Deceits or against them. Glad I’m out of that part of it now.”

“I’m glad I was never in it,” Myka said.

“You know you got the discipline,” Giselle said. She’d told Myka this before.

It was a real compliment, but: “I don’t have the gift,” Myka responded, as she had in the past.

“Discipline counts. Makes up for a lot.”

“Those Deceits do too,” Myka said. “I barely even broke a sweat this morning.”

“That’s a shame.”

Myka offered a “huh?” expression, though she was pretty sure she knew what was coming.

“You, all hot and sweaty?” And Giselle sighed, a parody of infatuation. “Yes indeed...”

Myka rolled her eyes, and then they both laughed. It was a ritual: Giselle “flirted,” Myka “suffered,” they laughed.

*

Some months ago, not long after Giselle had been brought on board by AAI, she’d asked Myka out.

“I have a boyfriend,” Myka had said, because that was what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that.

“Well,” Giselle said. “Look at me, getting the wrong impression. Sorry, Myka. Guess we’ll keep it professional.”

Giselle tended to put a drag on the last word of every sentence, a vocal habit that kept a listener hanging: would she say more? It might or might not have been intentional, but it was effective, particularly when combined with her linger of a Texas drawl. Thus her “professional” came out “pro... fess... io... nal.” Myka half-expected her to follow up with “or not.”

“Well,” Myka said back, when it became apparent that no more was in fact forthcoming, “not totally professional. We can still get coffee, right?” Because she did like Giselle.

Ah, there it was: Giselle gave her a still-flirty head toss and said, “Not to make the same mistake twice, but I did ‘get coffee’ with a lady one time and it turned into three days in Monaco. So we’ll see...”

Myka rolled her eyes, but then she laughed, and Giselle did too: the start of the ritual.

That should have been that.

But an international athletic governing body was apparently like every other semi-hermetically sealed social environment: a school, a team, a lab. Things got around. Mere hours after that conversation—which, granted, had taken place in the 40th-floor elevator lobby, the transit funnel for every employee of AAI, which occupied the entirety of that skyscraper level—Pete had marched back into their area from lunch and confronted Myka with, “I heard Giselle asked you out.”

Myka had tried not to respond, because really, what was there to say?

He went on, “And I heard you told her you have a boyfriend, which is what you said way back in history when I asked you out.”

“History? That was less than two years ago.”

“Anyway, I heard she believed you. Just like I did.”

“That was the idea. With her and with you.”

“I still don’t see why you didn’t just say ‘Pete, I don’t want to go out with you.’ It would’ve been fine.”

“I’d barely met you. I had no idea if you’d be a decent guy about it.”

“But I am a decent guy. About everything! So it would’ve been fine.”

“But I didn’t know you were a decent guy.” She had barely started at AAI; all she’d known about Pete Lattimer was that he’d been a decent decathlete. And that was no help at all, for every new coworker she met was a former Olympian or member of some national team or at least a famous ex-coach. It all made her feel as if she had no business working for the organization in the first place. They should have said that “athletic” was a requirement... each successive introduction seemed to drum with more force into her that a law degree and several languages were nothing against a sub-four mile.

Given that insecurity, she hadn’t needed any additional inputs or variables, so when Pete had said, “We should get dinner after work sometime,” she’d said what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that. It had become a reflex because regardless of any other complicating circumstances—such as a new job where her body itself didn’t belong—it was easier. It was almost always easier than whatever might follow her saying anything else.

Pete said, “You didn’t know I was a decent guy, so you lied about having a boyfriend. And now you’ve lied about it again.”

She’d winced at the word “lied.” It was accurate, but she didn’t like it. Then you probably shouldn’t do it, her conscience told her. She told it to shut up. Then she told Pete, “I know that and you know that. Giselle doesn’t need to know that.”

“But you already like her better than you would’ve ever liked me.” At that, Myka started to protest, but he waved her off. “You know I mean because she’s a lady. Why didn’t you say you have a girlfriend?”

Speaking of what was easier: “boyfriend” was easier than “girlfriend.” It raised fewer questions, and it raised fewer... thoughts. And that was easier too.

It was supposed to raise fewer thoughts, anyway.

Fortunately, Pete hadn’t waited for an answer, or for Myka to start thinking any thoughts, instead moving on to what he clearly found most important: “And lady-wise, don’t you think she’s hot? I think she’s hot.”

Myka sighed. “Yes, I think she’s hot. In fact I know she’s hot. I have eyes.”

“So go out with her. She’s hot, you’re hot. Sizzle!”

“I just don’t want to.”

“Then why didn’t you go ahead and tell her that? Do you think she isn’t a decent guy?”

“Pretty sure she’s not a guy at all,” Myka had said, trying to joke him into just... stopping.

She didn’t want to get into the complicated conversation that would have ensued if she’d admitted to having genuinely, if fleetingly, regretted her reflex—because he certainly wasn’t wrong about Giselle being a woman, and he double-certainly wasn’t wrong about her looks. She was stunning; she’d had that wildly successful athletic career, then transitioned with seemingly no friction at all into modeling, at which she was even more wildly successful. Her legs were as long as the miles she used to run, and Myka was certainly, in that sense, human.

But Giselle had already developed a reputation at AAI, despite her brief tenure, for what could charitably be called a... short attention span. Maybe it was the inevitable result of her having been able to have just about anything—and anyone—she wanted, in not one but two elevated realms, or maybe it had always been Giselle’s personality as a romantic socializer, but while Myka had no trouble observing it from the outside, as a characteristic of her friend Giselle, she didn’t particularly want to be subjected to it. What if she slipped and overinvested? Exactly the kind of difficulty she didn’t need, regardless of any other complicating circumstances. Exactly the kind of difficulty she had never needed, and if she had slipped and fallen into it in the past? Well, that was the past, and she certainly didn’t need to revisit any part of that, much less repeat it.

These months later, however, some days Myka had a vague sense that a day should come when she should talk herself into telling Giselle she didn’t have a (nonexistent) boyfriend anymore. A day, that was to say, when she should ask for Giselle’s attention, if only for a short span. It seemed normal, human, to think that a short span of time, even if it led to a complicating slip and overinvestment, might—should?—be better than nothing, and so some days, Myka tried to want to talk herself into that.

But on different days, she’d think, definitively, I don’t want to. Because talking herself into it felt dishonest. Even if Giselle subscribed solely to Pete’s “she’s hot, you’re hot; sizzle” theory of the case, even if both of them might have enjoyed much of that short span of time: dishonest. Inauthentic. Deceitful.

“You’re not very good at having fun, are you?” Pete had asked her once, when she’d told him, in response to his sincere inquiry, that she had never actually dreamed of having Disneyland all to herself for a day. She’d agreed that no, she really wasn’t very good at having fun, and he’d said, “You need to get out more. Maybe not to Disney, but you need to get out more.”

You need to get out more. She’d laughed at him, because the most out she ever got, away from work, was for her 4am run. That, she could talk herself into without feeling dishonest at all. Far from it: she reveled in the discipline required for that strict self-persuasion every day, which was probably why she’d found that she could, ultimately, work well—reasonably well—with athletes. Athletics at its highest level was discipline, and Giselle and Pete and most of the others could see that Myka got that, even had that, as Giselle kept telling her.

But as Myka always told Giselle in return (not that Giselle needed telling), for real athletes, that discipline had to be kissed by the divine, and Myka had no access to such physical divinity. None at all. She was an exercise runner, lowest of the low in terms of athletic esteem. She knew because that was how the athletes said it, with a twist of pity: exercise runner. That was what she was, and she knew it.

Until she ran in the Deceits.

They were named, of course, for their unassuming look and for the illicit advantage they gave the world-class athletes. But for Myka-the-unesteemed, they were differently deceptive: they made her feel like A Runner. Giselle and her peers had been born with the kind of legs these shoes changed Myka’s into, springing from the ground with power, creating a feeling of “this is my body; this is what it can do, and if I push, still more,” and miraculously—deceptively—there was still more it could be pushed to do. Myka felt like her body before the Deceits had been Clark Kent, like it had been waiting for the chance to reveal that it wore the suit and had superpowers, like this had always been how she could run.

It wasn’t real. But it felt real.

So she understood why Deceits were breaking records—speed records now, but eventually, they would break sales records, too.

She also understood, very clearly, that they should be banned.

Even for exercise runners like her: deceiving oneself, Myka felt, was worse than deceiving others, regardless of whether they were fellow competitors or the outside world in general. Just as she didn’t want to talk herself into Giselle, she didn’t want to run every morning in those shoes. If she did, that self-deception would become a habit of mind, and Myka deep-knew that being clear-eyed about oneself was essential. A moral duty, her inner rector told her, and even though she would probably have been happier to not live her life quite that ramrod-straight (to, for example, be better at having fun), it had been her thought as she’d begun that first run in the Deceits. She’d kept on thinking it, throughout her entire route, as she devoured the miles with her newly athletic strides. Clear-eyed, mor-al, du-ty. Right-left, right-left, right-left.

*

Administratively, the world of athletics moved at a speed inverse to that of the track. The relatively “rapid” ban of the Deceit’s predecessor had taken six months to work out and implement, so it was no surprise that several weeks elapsed before AAI even scheduled negotiations with Zelus reps over the new shoes. They would be delicate, the negotiations, for Zelus money was essential to the sport. It was imperative not to make any penalties too prohibitive or too “insulting” to the company or its affiliates. Could already-ratified world records set in Deceits be voided? Would that lead to Zelus-sponsored athletes boycotting competitions? Could Deceits be banned? Would that be at all enforceable?

Myka knew that Dan Badger, the president and CEO of AAI, would be scrutinizing everything she and Pete and their team proposed. Newly appointed to show that AAI was turning a regulatory corner, he had made clear that his watchword was “integrity,” and that applied not only to the sport as a whole, but to every athlete who participated in it, every piece of equipment they touched, every employee under his purview, every official action they took. Unofficial actions, too: there was, as far as Myka could tell, no ethical give in Badger’s worldview. Where prior heads might have made a handshake deal of some sort with Zelus’s own CEO with regard to the Deceits—and Myka suspected something along those lines had occurred for the Inducts, most likely involving a wink-nod to the already-in-the-pipelines Deceits—Badger would have considered the mere suggestion of such a thing a personal affront.

“Why doesn’t Badge like you more?” Pete once asked Myka. “You’re exactly like him.” Myka wasn’t, in fact, exactly like him, for Badger was an athlete’s athlete, a hurdling champion from a decades-ago golden age of British track and field. That gilded aura was a carapace around him, deflecting whatever might have been directed his way from beings he considered lesser, including nonathletes like Myka. It wasn’t actively insulting or cruel, just... clear. The athletes called him “Badge,” among themselves and to his face, while Myka had the sense that if she uttered that collegial syllable, no one, and certainly not the man himself, would even perceive that any sound had escaped her lips.

Pete wasn’t entirely wrong, though; Myka had enough consonance with Badger that she couldn’t quite bring herself to resent him. His absolutely unimpeachable reputation was supplemented by the fact that he looked exactly as an athletic lion of his age and era should: face appropriately tanned for health and creased for character, hair silver and full, height calibrated as if to the millimeter to be imposing but not incongruous. He was the ideal figurehead for an organization that wanted to burnish its standing as a virtuous guardian of all that was competitively good in athletics.

In the end, Myka’s own inclinations aligned with her need to fulfill Badger’s expectations, yet neither she nor he could change the underlying economics of the sport. She might have been moved, under other circumstances, to restore her single-run-sullied Deceits to their silver Zelus box and push that box to the back of her closet, but instead she spent an inordinate amount of time looking at them. Was there any way at all to tell, just by looking, that they could do what they did?

Enforcement was a matter of measurement and testing, but these shoes were a drug for which no test existed. AAI had hired a group of materials engineers to take them apart, so Myka now knew how they did what they did: even newer foam, plus two carbon plates, set at angles to each other. They really might as well have been springs—invisible to the outside-shoe naked eye, but springs all the same.

AAI could nominally ban double-plate soles, but it couldn’t possibly dismantle every Zelus runner’s footwear at every event to ensure that the ban was being respected. Myka saw no way out other than to ban Zelus shoes across the board (for she’d been thinking, too, of what Giselle had said about spikes), but that brought her back to financial impossibility. And around she went again. And again. And again.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the rest of athletics administration proceeded without heed for Deceits, no matter how long Myka stared at them, no matter how many negotiating scenarios she tried, unfruitfully, to game out. Meets and championships and trials all continued, requiring level upon level of authorization and accompanying paperwork...

One morning, Myka was concentrating, squint-eyed, on a spreadsheet when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Pete,” she began, still squinting at her screen, “I told you if I don’t approve the new certification tables for posting this morning—”

“I’m so sorry,” said an English-accented female voice, “but I’m not Pete. And I seem to be lost.”

Myka looked up. No, you’re not, was her first thought, which resolved into: You’re not Pete, and you’re not lost. You belong right here.

TBC

*

A few notes, just because:

I made up the governing body; it’s intended to be vaguely like the real organization World Athletics (formerly IAAF), which determines what’s allowable in track and field competition, but I’m not trying to replicate its structure at all. Further, the actual organization maintains that it doesn’t consult with shoe companies before making regulatory decisions... whether you believe that claim is of course entirely up to you.

Two passages from Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents are in some sense guiding my thinking here (because I’m like that). The first is this: “Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs he is truly magnificent; but these organs have not grown on to him and they still give him much trouble at times.” He’s talking about cars and eyeglasses and such things, but obviously the idea is applicable to athletic tech. An idea from a little earlier in the book seems relevant as well: “What we call happiness in the strictest sense comes from the (preferably sudden) satisfaction of needs which have been dammed up to a high degree, and it is from its nature only possible as an episodic phenomenon.” Right? We’ll see about that latter part though, Dr. Freud.

Finally, as that rude anon suggested some months ago, I’m obviously speaking to a community that’s mostly inactive now. But I’m a keeper of faith: one of the things I do best is wait. So one point of this story is that it exists. I’m waiting. C’mon and wait with me, if you like.

[murkymuse]

Title: Having The Faith To Soar

Fandom: Yuri On Ice

Ships: Gen

AO3, Previous

Chapter Two - Practice, Practice, Practice

Hello! I’m Vera Kotova, a self-taught amateur skater. Through an unlikely twist of chance, THE Yuri Plisetsky saw me skating and was impressed enough to call his coach! Now I’ve been whisked away to St. Petersburg so I can train under one of Coach Feltsman’s associates. Meanwhile, the Grand Prix Series continues with the Cup of China! I can’t wait to see Yuri skate again! 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Vera groaned and rolled over to reach for her noisy phone on the nightstand. The screen glared with a notification: Ballet Practice. Vera practically rolled out of bed and turned the alarm off.

Ever since moving to St. Petersburg, she had a very strict schedule to keep. Six mornings a week she had alternating physical training and ballet practice. Of course, she had school after morning practice five days a week. Her favorite time of day was the afternoon when she was able to practice ice skating.

“You might have some potential but you currently lack a solid foundation to build on,” Coach Feltsman had told her, “If you want to seriously compete, training needs to become your life.”

What else did she have in life anyway? A dead father and a mother that barely paid attention to her. Vera would gladly throw her body and soul into the only thing she did have: ice skating.  

So, while her sore body longed to sleep another hour or two, Vera quickly got ready and left for the ballet studio. As she exited the apartment building, the sounds of the city – cars, people, seagulls – invaded her ears. The tall buildings and crowded streets were vastly different from the sparse town she’d lived in up until now. It was still a little overwhelming; she hadn’t yet felt comfortable wandering outside her bubble of apartment-gym-ballet studio-school-ice rink.

Maybe if she asked nicely when the season was over Yuri would go with her to explore the city? He did say he’d check in on her progress, even if he hadn’t been specific on when. But with the Cup of China quickly approaching and then the Grand Prix Finals after that… Then Nationals and then World’s… Vera wasn’t expecting to see Yuri Plisetsky again any time soon.

That was okay. She’d work really hard so that next time saw him, he wouldn’t regret giving her this chance.

Vera’s drifting thoughts cut off as she pushed the door open and entered the ballet studio.

The rink was strangely empty and quiet when Vera got there. She checked her phone and realized that she’d somehow managed to arrive a good fifteen minutes early. It was still unusual because this rink was typically open to the public right before the skating class. Maybe someone had booked it earlier?

Vera shrugged, not caring about the specifics, and went to put on her skates (that they were truly hers and not rentals still made her grin). She hadn’t gotten a chance to skate alone in weeks. There was no way she wasn’t going to take advantage of the empty rink.

As she skated out onto the ice, she put her earbuds in and stuffed her phone in her pocket.

Sic mea vita est temporaria, cupit ardenter caritatem aeternam

Vera hadn’t attempted skating Agape since moving to the city. Now she felt a difference in her skating. Her balance was even more stable; her motions were both more fluid and precise. She smiled softly before going into her first jump.

The sound and feel of blades against the ice as she made a perfect landing was beautiful and thrilling. Feeling even more confident, she continued to flow with the music.

Once she and the music came to a still, Vera blinked and realized that she’d gathered a small audience. Coach Lebedeva was standing rinkside with a bemused expression. A few of Vera’s rinkmates were there as well; their faces filled with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. One girl, who had her hair in a high ponytail, had her phone held up to take a video.

“Um…”

Vera’s cheeks felt a little warm; and, she wasn’t sure what to say. However, her rinkmates broke the silence for her.

“That was so cool!”

“I didn’t know you could land an axel!”

“How long did it take you to learn that?”

“Thanks. I first managed it about six months ago. And a few years,” she managed to answer.  

Before anyone could say more, Coach Lebedeva clapped her hands to get their attention. “Alright everyone, stretch and get your stakes on. And, Anya, don’t post that video online without Vera’s permission.”

Anya guiltily put her phone down, shooting an apologetic smile, and then went to get her skates on.

Once the rest of her rinkmates joined Vera on the ice, Anya skated up to her, “Some of us are watching the Cup of China at my house later. Do you want to come?”

Vera wanted to say that she’d go but the words got stuck in her throat.

“…I can’t. I have to finish a project for school,” she lied.

“Oh, maybe next time.”

“Yeah.”

The awkward pause was broken as Coach Lebedeva instructed them into edge drills. As it could be expected from a group of pre-teens, the class was an organized chaos. Students laughed and joked while skating in every direction; and, the coach would call out corrections or glide over to help when someone was struggling. Despite all that, practice always seemed to go by quickly to Vera. Soon enough her rinkmates were heading off the ice. When Vera didn’t follow them, the coach gave her a look but said nothing. Vera took that as permission to continue and stretched into the Biellmann position again.

As parents arrived to pick up her rinkmates, she tried not to pay them any attention. However, it was impossible to completely block out the drifting chatter.  

“Anya,” the voice was soft and sweet, “How many of your friends are coming?”

Anya listed off half the class. Excited giggles echoed across the room as Anya’s mother began ushering the group toward the door. Vera frowned as she switched the positions of her legs and went into a spin.

It was only after all her rinkmates had left that Coach Lebedeva’s called out, “That’s enough for today. If you practice much longer, you’ll miss the men’s short programs.”

Since the Cup of China didn’t start for another hour, Vera figured the coach was just saying that because she wanted to leave but couldn’t with a student still on the ice.

“I’m coming,” she replied as she skated off the rink.

That Seung-gil guy was about finished with his short program; the crowd cheering as the commentators exclaimed in excitement over the flawless combination he just landed. It was at that exact moment reality suddenly hit Yuri like a freight train.

“Yuri,” Yakov’s voice was distant, “Come on. You’re up next.”

He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. The ground seemed oddly distant and blurred as well.

“Yuri?” A hand lightly placed on his shoulder. Lilia. “What’s wrong?”

Wrong?

Grandpa had rarely been able to come to his competitions but he always watched them on tv. Now, for the first time since Yuri moved up to the Senior division, Grandpa wasn’t sitting at home with the tv on to watch him skate.

A sob was building in the back of his throat. Yuri bit it back as a kernel of molten anger settled in the pit of his stomach. He absolutely refused to breakdown here and now! He could get through this! He could get out there and give one hell of a performance!

He just needed to move.

“Yura.”

He glanced around until his eyes found Otabek. His friend’s expression was as stoic as ever but Yuri knew him well enough read between the lines. There was no pity found in Otabek’s gaze, just the certainty that no matter what Yuri would give it his all. That he would soldier through.

“Davai.”

Yuri took a deep breath and then gave Otabek a thumbs up.

“It’s time,” Yakov said.

Yuri nodded and began walking toward the rink. He had a medal to win.  

The next night found Yuri kicking the locker room wall and muttering insults under his breath. He honestly didn’t mind losing gold to Otabek but he lost silver to Seung-gil?! What the hell?!

“Between the gold from France and this bronze, your spot at the finals is secure,” Yakov stated from behind him, “You’ll do better there.”

Yuri glared at an invisible point. “I will.”

Hours later Yuri knocked on a hotel door. It took a minute for it to open and reveal Otabek. Seeing Yuri, he opened the door wider and shifted aside. Yuri walked right in and immediately sprawled on the couch.

“I’ve sat on more comfortable benches.”

Otabek simply nodded before nudging Yuri so that he’d make room. Yuri grumbled but complied. Then Otabek just waited for the rant he knew was coming.

“Yakov didn’t even lecture me! He always lectures me after I skate!”

“He’s trying to be sensitive.”

“Well, it’s weird! I don’t want him tip-toeing around me!”

Otabek hummed in response.

“It’s bad enough that Katsudon and Viktor keep calling to check on me,” he continued with a grimace, “Bleh! I swear if Lilia goes easy on me when we get back to St. Petersburg I’ll kick someone.”

Otabek’s mouth tugged up ever so slightly, unnoticeable to everyone but those that knew him best.

“Not Lilia,” he said.

Yuri gave him an incredulous look. “Hell no! I don’t have a death wish!”

There was a beat of quiet as his word choice sank in. Then Yuri rolled off the couch and ended up face down on the floor.

“The carpet is more comfortable than that stupid couch. Someone should complain to the hotel.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it,” Otabek replied, his voice so flat that it was impossible to tell if he were joking or not.

“Good.” Yuri pushed himself back up and leaned against the couch. “We’re still going to Beijing Zoo before the exhibition show tomorrow, right.”

Otabek nodded. “You’d disown me if I tried to back out.”

“Damn right I would.” His eyes suddenly went wide like he remembered something important. “Oh! Watch this.”    

Yuri then pulled out his phone and swiped until he found the video he wanted. Otabek leaned over Yuri’s shoulder as he started the video. It was of a young girl skating with familiar movements.

“The kid you mentioned?”

“Yeah. Yakov’s friend sent the video yesterday,” Yuri answered, “Would you believe she’s only been formally training for less than two months?”

Otabek watched to the end before replying, “Then she has overwhelming natural talent.”

“Right!”

The students were gathering their things and trailing out the door when Vera’s phone started playing Allegro Appassionato in B minor. The teacher gave her a disapproving look but couldn’t say anything since it was time to leave. Vera stuck her tongue out once the teacher glanced away. She then unlocked her phone to see a text:

Vera let out an excited noise that earned her a few odd looks from her classmates. She didn’t notice though as she quickly gathered her stuff and zipped up her coat. Then she was out the door.

The air outside was chill; and, the ground was damp from it drizzling earlier in the day. Vera’s breath turned to mist as she glanced around. It didn’t take long to spot Yuri. He was leaning against the fence with his hoodie pulled over his head and scrolling through his phone.

“Yuri!”

He looked up as she sprinted over to him.

“Didn’t you just get back from China? I watched your programs!”

“We got back a few days ago,” he replied, “Come on. Yakov will yell if we’re late.”

Yuri began walking down the sidewalk; and, Vera had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides. She filled the walk with questions about his trip. While Yuri was happy to answer general questions about China, his replies about the competition itself were short and sharp. Vera fell silent after a few minutes.

It didn’t take much longer for the building to come into sight; its sign had ‘Sports Champions Club’ spelled out around the flag. There were a few people milling outside the entrance but they weren’t dressed to skate or workout. Yuri suddenly stopped in his tracks. Vera stopped a step later and looked back at him questioningly.

“Da-” He glanced at Vera and made an annoyed sound. “Tch. Can’t the reporters let me train in peace.”

Since they had yet to notice him, Yuri grabbed Vera’s hand and started walking.

“We’ll sneak past them and go through the back.”

He led her around the side of the building to an ‘employees only’ door. Either someone had left it unlocked or it’d been purposely left that way for this situation. Whichever reason, they were able to get inside without any issues.

Once they’d passed through a storage area, they entered the main lobby. Vera blinked as she took everything in. It was large but not overly crowded; just a few employees going about their work and a group of men with hockey shirts talking to each other. An employee greeted Yuri and gave Vera a curious look but everyone else ignored them.

They entered the rink then. Only Mila (THE Mila Babicheva!) was on the ice, spinning and jumping as she practiced what Vera recognized as her short program for the season.

“Woah.”

“There you are!” Coach Feltsman shouted.

Yuri joined his coach by the ice, while Vera trailed behind him. He began stretching as he replied, “There are reporters out front again.”

“It’s because you refused interviews after the Cup of China.”

“They can stay out of it,” he replied darkly.

“You won’t be able to dodge them forever.”

Vera, feeling a little lost by their argument, went back to watching Mila skate. How cool was it that she would be sharing a rink with both Yuri Plisetsky AND Mila Babicheva, if only for a day?

Mila’s short program practice run soon ended. She glided over and grabbed a water bottle, listening while Coach Feltsman critiqued. However, she soon spotted Vera and leaned over the rink wall.

“So this is the little kitten you’ve adopted, Yuri,” she said with a wide grin.

Vera blinked. “Kitten?”

“Shut up, hag!”

“I can still lift you.”

Yuri groaned in annoyance. Mila turned back to Vera.

“What’s your name?”

“Vera Kotova.”

“Kotova, huh?” She laughed. “See, she is a kitten.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and went to put on his skates, grumbling all the while. Mila continued smiling after him.

“…Um,” Vera said as she tapped Mila’s arm to get her attention, “You’re my favorite female skater.”

Mila stared at her a moment before shouting, “Yuri! Yakov! We’re keeping her!”  

Yakov just shook his head at his students’ antics. “Mila, work on that step sequence again. Yuri, warm up.”

Mila returned to skating, while Yuri finished lacing his skates and went to the opposite side of the rink. Vera stood there not sure what she should do until Coach Feltsman snapped at her.

“What are you waiting for? Stretch and then get your skates on.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

It wasn’t long before she too was on the ice, working on basic drills before she moved on to practicing her jumps. Maybe it was because she had been watching Yuri and Mila practice out of the corner of her eye but a thought suddenly popped into her mind: What if she tried a double?

With that idea urging her on, Vera jumped higher and spun faster. A full rotation… 540 degrees… a full 720 degrees! Vera’s heart leapt in excitement for a split second. Then her blade landed wrong. She tried to counter-balance but it was too late. She hit the ice with a solid thump.

“Ow.”

The sound of blades gliding to a stop echoed in her ear. When Vera looked up, both Yuri and Mila were staring down at her in mild concern.

“I’m okay,” she said as she scrambled up.

“Vera!” Coach Feltsmen yelled from the side of the rink, “Have you been given permission to start practicing doubles yet?”

Vera glanced down guilty. “…No.”

The coach’s frown deepened, while Mila snickered.

“You fit right in.”

Vera blushed at the compliment.

“You botched the landing because your foot was angled sloppily,” Yuri commented.

She nodded and then glanced back over at Coach Feltsman with pleading eyes. “Can I try again?”

He stared at her a moment before answering, “We might as well see if you can manage a half decent double salchow before practice is over.”  

[kurasmaniac-blog]

#it needed to be more violent, I’m going to burry you, you don’t have magic.

In the hospital

daddy dropped me

there are historical figures and concubine queens

they chose me as martyr for my workout regime and as reward for my honesty

little girls resemble solid black babies who try and eat your face openly

tried to fix their dented heads when they got dropped from their cribs

syringles full of things slightly acidic

they opened my trachea

i was unconcious and interrogated

i begin smacking them around

TELLING them how stupid it was to do a thing like that

still managed to tell them a few things they didn't know

at home

finger nail clipping troubles

black widow bites

white python with yellow rings

they think they can abandon me if not completely financially

put hom outside

generaly not there very much

where?

pedophile

brother

no tv

on and off one way then the other

they refuse to feed me

two faced talking to kids who would have been my frinds

i don't get hurt very much i guess

tee ball

pedophiles

dented a kids head for harassing me

coach thinks he can fuck my little butt

i knocked half his teeth out

one swing

no damage initially but as he tries to go back to get my poor little butt hole

i was three

they all talk to eachother about what a bad little shit i must be

pedophile kids in day care #1

moved on to a second

fought every kid who asked me

knocked a kids teeth out for being a little mexican and trying to give everyone HIV

teacher knew the two intruders and tried to drug me

one single cop shows up somehow tries to break one of my wrists

i can see he is full of crying and try to assist him mentally

i continue fighting kids relentlessly

residual growing from the drugs

in and out seeing it all conciously

people try to break my legs

their wish dreams begin manafesting showing me broken memories and arguing that they had done what they said

im still 100% in tact

my grandmother on each side trys to rape me

assorted shit they try and feed me

elementary school starting with kindergarten

i rip a little girls broken arm off basically

a few more kids say they have fought me

little girl tries putting paper clips in my head

i bend her jaw with two punches

she loses her mind and says "i just got that off"

my soul smiles up at them openly

first grade second grade the cops had already seen me

i loved jumping off swings

but i had hurt so many people god came down and put my face in the ground

as high as the roof landing solely and flat on my face

i bled crainially

a puddle of clear liquid on my face and desk they would have licked me

stop defending yourself you're fucking the kids up

kid thinks he is hercules and wants to help everyone by trying to break my nose

i lie to him like they had lied to me

my nose is clearly not broken

i lose more of the kids its like they're just not there

i lose the ability to run without pain

dentistry

teeth filed

suppposidly removed for breaking the coaches face

second set is given to me

i had only walked into school twice even at that point

ultra decked a kid because a girl said he was a little fucker "stop raping me" they said

more drugs for beating so many of their children

kids who had been to my house lose it and go after things pets and family

there was supposed to be a funeral at some point they tried to kill me

i broke a toe walking down to the kitchen for a drink

i was sent back home from hell and scared the shit out of everyone royaly

im no longer capable of hearing them try and explain their reasons to me

one night i woke up having to remind myself to breath

brother and girlfriend kill parents

they go after me

putting cigarettes out in my nose

trying to cut

and failing horribly

the girl was daughter of a police officer whose face i had also broken right after his daughter

at a friends house other dad and second son come hope after going to the hospital having tried teaching the boy fighting and yanking his neck breaking the spine they

they had refused treatment and his head falls off in my arms

i had still only used violence defensively

i refuse to take karate for fear of perminantly damaging a student then instructor in that order

on anotyher night the dad of the dead boy tries to fuck my poor little butt hole

my only explanation is i simply don't and can't have the fucking of my butt magically

loss of memory

cop dughter girl has doctors try and cut off my arms and legs leave a for fork in my chest and chain me to my bed

the chains are broken i manifest new arms and legs which i use a bit to grab the girls face a bit and i notice they urge me to not hurt the girl by fading in and out

there are too mny things in my list here for me to just be full of shit believe me

sixth grade camp for 2 of the 7 day week a proctor dissapears for judging me and another kid and trying to put shit on at least my ear

he dissapears

my pants and broken belt fell off in front of a girl and i notice she has trouble not noticing my nuts

jr high first new friend trys to hold me under water but i didn't like it and shattered one of his testicles he has one

at a girls party somehow i overstayed my welcome so they try and cut my face off paint it with tatoo ink burn bitch at then shun me

before i can get out i find myself inside the house and the girl freaks out she wanted me to leave because my mother followed me in and i had to bitch slap her

drugs

i make a big scene talking to my mom on a cell phone they don't like me

the girls dad carrys me outside by the shirt and puts me directly into mothers car

pipe bomb

met tiesto he lived there i guess

the girl was rape/fucked because people knew my parents thinking of them poorly

i would have to have at least one of these mentioned having this many

havent done homework since second grade

little herculese still thinks of bending one of my arms so i shove a foot right up under his girlfriends butt in a class

on an extended field trip a fat kid drugs me and i hear i defiled a sanctuary but don't have memory of crying myself to sleep much less living with it like a mistake at all actually

kids had put shit in their pockets and thought of me

i don't get to go to the girls second party

on the final days of school field trip i miss the buss call but find some kids who stayed also find myself out by a buss and rape a police officer to get myself put home

i had robbed a crain game and grabbed at least 15 stuffed toys

i was punnished for not doing the monkey bars right and dislocate a sholder but still manage to get to the top the climbing pole

teleport frisbe

a bee flies right up into my shorts and didn't seem to want to leave

im debating not going back to add in all the other things for elementary school typing this is tiresome in itself

high school

staying late after school eventually turns to my brother throwing my dad a surprise party where i had died in the bathroom party girl put magnesium on my hed and it melted its way right through me

the bathroom is a mess and my dad watched me die

i pop back up and walk out into the living room naked not having clothes some mexican kids tried to piss all over my room

there must have been something wrong with my dad for refusing reason like he did i hear i knocked teeth out of his face for my poor little butt holes honor

barbeque injector to the heart

huge trap door spider made a snack of me

people tried to kill my cat

loss of vision but there were people who tried talking to me

the police had investigated the corpse in the bathroom and say it wasn't me

i smiled

stabbing for my method of provocation

soemthing fucked me

someone cut the skin off my left arm and tried to wear it

the next day i walk back to the hangout just fine

people threw rocks at my mother i didn't make it all the way home conciously

i thuroughly haunted a school performance and broke a girls face for their indirectivity

my bend in my jaw is still there

i don't go to my fathers house anymore after that party

find myself at my mothers and know not much more than that her housband breathes heavily when hes angry

when im at another house with one of his kids i end up staying for a week strait

when they wre drinking they poison me

on another night i make it too the bathroom after drinking heavily and think of it as a victory

i wake up in the bathroom with my left hand clutched around a puking girls pony tail shes screaming WAKE UP WAKE UP don't put my head in the toilet

as i take it off my hand responds slugishly with each finger prying itself off individually starting from the left pinky

i clutch my hand and call back to sleep

residual

i have a few short visions one of a neck readjustment i enjoy pranoidly

another of my mother and her housband trying to get me to leave that house why not just put me outside

i get a car

i drift around this same turn in my city 10 times having looked at the reason and ignoring my good way out i slam one front left axel into the curb breaking it loose then take a right turn and make it to a spot to park

the tire stayed on and they cannot police me

im gifted a few dips in the road and scrape part of a plastic under carrige piece off partially but being half an inch thick it cannot have happened

i was smoking at a church and let a guy try my manual car without me i hear a loud crash but the car seems fine later i realize he must have tried to blow the transmission seeing how the car acted just after

the car now runs on me

another set of people tests me at first mostly with steroids in a single spot cutting drugging

when someone threatens me i still just tell them to hurry the fuck up

drugs

a few long trips drugs found a girl with "tongue fur" which i cant have because earlier i was given a yellow funguns that was "if you're not dead in a week that's not what this is" i lived and the fungus formed a line around the horizontal rim of my tongue

there is a tackle box on every corner and everyone is on a foreign telephone netowrk

one night i appear just in front of my drive way pull in and am followed throught the door shot up and left unconcious

earlier there had been mexican workers broght from a separate city so many that step father is shuned "you never bring them back"

if a person fails it is clearly their fault or literal mind rape possibly

i made the girl who showed interest hot and for a while she thinks of it as raping me until she gets HIV

the last mentioned group of people one night summon me with wishes to go and have a rave far away and by the end the only thing i can say is they couldn't afford what I bought them by being there

a girl of them is kidnapped and raped supposidly

i tried many times after being shot up maybe 10 times taking pills and not smoking to pull her ass back to my car but the best i can do is offer my sholder for stabbing

the brakes became clogged with sand

we were moved and i took people home

the girl is recovered by one of the group and her authority father she had jondis

the now hot rape girl and a guy had given HIV to many people including both their families

i got a job

i somehow broke the computer system at that restourant but i had been driving my car with parifanalia and a broken tail light for long enough to get the idea i should use this chance to continue my high school work of being there weather anyone liked it or not

the cop whos sons head had fallen off in my arms tied to put a harpoon slug in my left eye

one morning on the way to school my windows had been rolled up and the frost was heavy on my windshield

i back out at a point of defrosting thinking it would clear up but find myself in the same place as before looking right at the answer clearly but not able to act

i passed throught a pillar my mother having been pushed into the drive way and proctor on the corner of my mountain rode street where there were some kids waiting for a buss i had never noticed

hercules had killed one of my cats for raping his home and i end up running over a kid who was playing in the street

the proctor pulls a boi knife and puts it through my face i have a vision of POW soldiers being hydrolically injected so i say no

one of the kids starts yelling about how a little gir had started crying and i pull off to make more magic

parts of the kids body were stuck to the bottom of my car and i took all of it strait to the closest parking space at the school to the school

there were police waiting but they just shoot so i vanish again losing memory not really knowing

the puddle was hercules' little cousin and my cat was at home

i did mushrooms up in the mountains and played car pinball all the way down to a friends house

the police showed up there but i had already fallen asleep from eating too many mushrooms

at the school graduation there was a special surprise for me in the form of some guy holding my diploma who the just ran thinking i didn't have it but did

father was there and tried to rip it in half i vanish again

my year book had been handed around the whole school

i didn't see it at all i'll make some wish for that later as long as not too much is a staged story

many people have HIV at this point

one final night after work i had been drugged for a week or so by the guy who brought the HIV back from cuba

i cant do anything but hurt people

she stood there in the hall unable to call me a bitch without explanation and I finally understood psychology

that part of their face is bent, so is mine but if it actually matters i wont ever care

i don't have HIV but i like to think that maybe some had been let go

i don't know how much of that acid they gave me but i drove home parked turned the music up as my brain dried out

if anyone had an objection i didn't hear of it right then

brother and the second cop had the second cops dad take drills to my teeth at a party i was summoned to

the damage wasnt immediate but later and just some

if that kid was hercules then my tee ball coach was zues whose lack of teeth have fucked my head up for years

i went to the planned parenthood and almost was raped but found myself outside

i was taken to two 5150's where by the end one had missing people the the other had seen me inside a secret wall room

i end up in the mountains one night and a kid with heppatitis shoots me up

everyone has a fucking needle

historical figures all around along with a zues and herculese makes me think there once was an after life but they refused to take responsibility and leave it there before showing up here to rape little boys

i raped and took a walk through the rave in LA one night on invitation apparently party girl told me i was a fagot

i didn't pay but i still even got inside after tiesto himself had failed to just walk up and beat me

once inside i was split into five went everywhere then took a seat up in the top section

they asked me to leave twice played me part of a song saw my brother and floated down to a door across the crowd from where I was

ruffles?

i landed on the other side near the enterance to the VIP section but just walked out into the fog

oh

went the wrong way and found myself home turned the music up and began wrenching around my bent faw right side

finally once i headed around to the back drive way it was loud again but i had a magic barrier that kep the high school kids away and the kids kept the other people away

my head started screaming at me and i was alone with it to beat as time went on

my psichiatrist heard me once say that the human trafficing people couldn't do anything about me either so they decided t kill me

one night i was sick with the flu had a heart attack

another day i went out to mow the lawn but i had gotten so clogged by the medications there was some pain

a while after i see my drivers license picture looks just like the kid from terminator two after he beat that hooker

on walks i found things i had never seen a mushroom that reminded me of a lamp shade red fat butt spiders like a black widow and small tube scrap that looked like it had been cut

i was going to use it as a blunt crutch but thought it might be metal lit one end and held it at the other

it was hot in less than 1 second and probably cold before i dropped it

i think about it having the mark of being cut and a piece left from it being broken off but i don't think people have anything like it

i threw it away thinking nobody would ever give a fuck who cares i found it on a walk no you don't have it

i have the kings crown magnet still

on the way i had broken kids cops an fbi agent but who gives a fuck i was born in a hospital

the phich meds were good for a while and i had gone back to laughing then suddenly it turned drastically to extreme discomfort the word for which people still don't acknowlege

it was that way for at least a year of painful discomfort not being able to sit still or stand

until one day i decided to give a bit and stop taking the medication

then the drugs quietly gently turned back a few different attempts later

but the yelling i had done in my room and the music had attracted me attention again i didn't hear of any of it from a person at all

nother guy dances down my hallway uninvited bounces into my room and tries to flip the light switch but the bulb breaks and im sitting there blinded by the light of my computer screne

they cant hear me thinking

someone got the little girl at the end of the street the tongue fur right the fuck up in the top end of it

i herd some people outside my window even my land lord so i guess they cant get the fuck out of my house either

i got my new house of my own in a mobile home park and in the first few days someone had assigned a hagared lady to try and do "something"

once the pandemic hit in the first few days there was a guy in a truck and not knowing well enough to stay away i talked to him

my casual manerisms concerned the people from down the street

but after the builders tried to crack the house in half and the HIV kids spitting at my father

[evamariaax-blog]

Alice

I had watched the light flicker from his eyes about two years ago. Following Jake Green over the course of almost fourteen years was a demanding task, and now here he was, I single father- widowed- with only a Ph.D. and a daughter, living in a little stone house on top of a little sad hill. Dead. Finally. It took longer than intended to off him; I had so many opportunities to put the rope but someone always got in the way. At one point, someone finally believe them when he told them I was following him I had to go in to for almost 3 years so I wouldn’t get caught. One time, when Jake was in his last year in high school, I had the knife mere inches from his throat but his mum walked in and I had to stash the blade in my pocket. Today, however, his daughters as at a friends house spending he night and the house keeper left early. I hadn't had an opportunity this tempting in a long time, and I was unspeakably hungry. Each attempt at killing Jake began with a word. I had to speak to him casually, like an old friend. After all, after more than a decade of this, I'd like to say I knew him pretty well. Too well. “You know it's your fault she died, right?” I said gently, stepping out of the shadows to where Jake was sitting idly on the couch, staring into space. “Ella wouldn't have died. If you hadn't called her while she was driving.” Jake’s face remained emotionless; it was as if I wasn't even there. Testing the water was over, and I needed to strike. God, I was starving and I needed to get inside his head before I could get the upper hand. “But she would have left you if she hadn't died, anyways. Who'd want to be with a guy who can't even have kids if his own?” I was there when he adopted his daughter, I was everywhere that year. I couldn't go through with it, though. I felt bad for the girl. Even killers have hearts, sometimes. Who knew? Jake’s eyes remained empty, but his browns knot together the way his hands did when he was thinking too hard about something. “Why are you here?” He pondered. His voice dropped with anguish and fear, but his eyes made no change and he made no effort to look in my direction. “Why are you here? It's been almost two years, I thought I got rid of you. I thought you'd finally left me for someone else. I did everything I could. I did everything. I did everything…” His voice faded and Jake buried his face in his hands, a sure sign he'd given up. A sure sign that I’d finally won one of the longest battles I'd ever fought. He wasn't scared when I finally did it, I suppose he'd seen it coming for a long time; id followed him for what felt like moray of his life. I wasn't about to be defeated. I left his lifeless form in the middle of his living room floor. The only evidence I'd been there was in the furrow of his brows and the note on the coffee table. It was high time I got back down to business. Three days had passed since Jake died. His daughter went to live with her aunt and uncle, who made sure she knew it wasn't her fault he was gone. For a moment, I considered going after her too, but that seemed a bit cliché, so I left her after our brief conversation on the bench in the cemetery. I was sitting stiffly on the concrete of the overhang outside of a public high school when I honed in on my next target. The nice thing about finding targets was that I never had to spend that much time hunting for them: they always found me first, whether they wanted to or not. She plopped down next to me without a word, slumping against the brick wall and let out what sounded like a long-held breath before taking a stale-looking cigarette and a lighter out of her sweatshirt pocket. “I'm Alice,” she stated, wrapping her lips around the cigarette and hesitating before lighting it. Alice was wearing a cheer uniform under her oversized sweatshirt (I'm guessing it belonged to her boyfriend because she smelled strongly of cheap aftershave) and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail with a red ribbon. She wasn't bad-looking; a smattering of freckles lay across the bridge of her nose and she had round brown eyes framed with dark lashes. A stack of graded papers lay on the ground next to her: all 100%. Alice coughed thickly as she tried and failed to take her first drag and reluctantly put the cigarette out on the concrete next to her, “And you are?” She glanced in my direction with a smirk. I was in. “I think you'll know who I am soon enough,” I flirted. She made no effort to respond. “Rough day?” “Not the best.” “Stressed?” “Somewhat.” Getting inside the mind of a new victim was like picking at the knot the size of a basket ball. I had to pull out every loop and yank on every string before finding the end and unraveling it all. The first loop was pulled. I found out a lot about Alice that afternoon; some information I could tell you just from looking at her and the rest I had to pry gently out of her. She was a flier in the cheerleading squad. Her boyfriend was in an indie band that performed every Friday at a local café. Her parents were nice enough, but the university she wanted to go to only accepted 30% of applicants, so there was a lot of pressure to keep her grades in check. Her older brother was a brat. She had two best friends and a dog named Chuck. Alice was a normal girl, but not for long once I got my hands on her. When Alice was finished talking, she looked anywhere except my eyes. She knew she'd shared too much, and that was always the first mistake they made. Once I got my toe in the door, it didn't wake much more than a timely gust of wind to creak it the rest of the way open and let all the cold air in. “I shouldn't be here.” She declared, more to herself than to me. Damn right she shouldn't be. It was too late for her though, and we both knew it. She stood up tersely to leave, and I followed at her heels. No one batted an eye as I accompanied her to her house. “Good morning, Alice,” I said in a singsong voice, “lucky you, there's no one home today.” She frowned. “Damn it, why won't you just leave me alone?” Alice groaned, her voice thick from sleep, “it's been like a week. You said you'd be gone by now.” “That's the thing about me, Alice,” I say silkily, “I'm not exactly known for telling the truth. Why don't you stay in bed today? Take a break from the Uni apps. You're not going to get in to any of them anyway.” “What do you mean?” “Don't you have to be good enough to get in to university?” I pressed, willing her to give in. Take the easy route, I silently urged. “I guess,” she said hesitantly, “my parents will be really disappointed, though” “You're a big enough disappointment to them as it is. Trust me? If won't make that much of a difference.” Alice sighed and stared carefully into my eyes for a few seconds before turning onto her other shoulder and going back to sleep. I smiled. Before she had rolled over, I’d noticed a distinct brightness flicker out of those round brown eyes. Grades fell, the boyfriend was disposed of (I didn't kill him. They broke up). Friendships were ended, the parents were alienated, and soon, Alice was more alone than she'd ever been, and she couldn't even give anyone a valid reason as to why. That was always the best part for me, listening to them fumble for a reason as to why they were behaving so strangely. I fingered the blade sitting in my pocket. It meant we were close. Alice had stopped caring, and if seemed like her parents were distanced enough from the situation that it would be safe at any moment to make my move. I found a prescription and a half-dried out ballpoint pen on her seat and wrote down a half-decent note, planning out my attack for later that night. It started with a word. A phrase. Anything to give her the signal it was time. She came in to her room from school that day with no expression. Her hair was frizzy, kept up in the bun she'd slept with the night before, and she dumped her unzipped backpack on her messy floor before slumping down next to me on her bed. “You don't have to do it anymore.” I prompted. I nudged her elbow and she sighed. She sighed a lot these days. “I know.”’she replied . She eyes the note I'd written earlier that day sitting on her desk. She'd watched me write it. She knew what was coming, just as Jake had. I always make the last moments easy for them. That way, they were never scared. “It's going to be better for you after this.” I coped as she stared at the empty space in front of her. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I chuckled to myself. This was too easy. I was so hungry. She didn't really put up a fight. She was actually smiling I hadn't seen her smile since I'd met her. I think she was relieved she'd finally be rid of me. There was no other way out. The pills were down her throat in no time. I hadn't hung around to listen to her parents’ late night conversations about me. I hadn't pairs attention to the phone calls with potential therapists and concerned parents or teachers or friends or coaches. I was just so hungry, so hungry and I had way too much nothing to give to a girl that was too easy. A girl with no more to offer than grades or hobbies or boyfriends. And not everything I'd worked for was gone. I faded away fast as I heard the sirens in the distance. I felt the nothing I'd poured into Alice chase after me, devouring me, consuming me whole, leaving no trace of my existence behind other than scars and tears and notes written on the back of prescriptions on half dried out ballpoint pen.