#once before i had a dream we were in a baby blue convertible @ the beach and it was sunset then too

[tr1vialove]

.

[bffsoobin]

redamancy

↳after snagging the boy of your dreams, you walk on cloud nine around all of your friends. Life is perfect. Beomgyu is perfect. Except for one thing. When will he say I love you?

find the moodboard here

01 | 02

➤ fluff, vaguely 60s!au, Beomgyu playing guitar!

Word Count: 1,937

A/N: This is the second and final part of my collab with @bloomingjun who made the lovely moodboard you see at the top! I hope you’ve all enjoyed my vague 60s references in this fic :)

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Elizabeth sat at the foot of your bed as you rummaged through your closet. You were already clothed in a white sleeveless turtleneck top as you flipped through all of the plaid skirts you had collected. 

“Should I go with yellow, black or blue?” you pondered over the three skirts, waiting for one to jump out at you. Elizabeth approached you with a critical eye and took the skirts from your hands. She handed you each one in turn so that you could press it against your waist and simulate the look of the whole outfit. It was so quiet as she thought that you could hear your brother’s Beatles record playing in the next room over. After you tried all three and still had no answers from your best friend you became annoyed. “Elizabeth, please. I need your help.” You knew you sounded whiney but you didn’t care. She had promised to help you get ready for this date with Beomgyu and she was slacking big time. 

“Okay, in my opinion I think the yellow looks best. That way you can wear your white boots too. But honestly, Y/N. You could wear a paper bag and Beomgyu would think you look pretty.” she sighed wistfully and plopped back into your pillows. You shimmied into the yellow plaid garment and sat down next to Elizabeth on the bed, clutching the stuffed bear that Beomgyu won you on your first date. In the back of your mind, you knew she was right. Ever since your first amusement park date with Beomgyu, the two of you have been basically inseparable. 

“You don’t know that. He’s sweet, but he still hasn’t…” your voice trailed into silence as Elizabeth sighed. 

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Elizabeth heaved herself up to hug you from the side. “You got the best boy out of that group.” Her sweet voice soured and you knew she was referring to her failed date with Beomgyu’s older friend, Yeonjun. 

“‘M sorry that Yeonjun was such a bummer.” you offered loosely.

“He wasn’t just a bummer! He bugged out on me.” she whined loudly into your shoulder. 

“And he’s an idiot for it. Even Beomgyu agrees. He told me all about how he called Yeonjun and told him he was being way too much of a square to be his friend. They even didn’t talk for a few days over him bugging out on you.” Elizabeth offered a tiny smile at the knowledge. Suddenly the doorbell rang and you jumped out of your skin. Both of your parents were out of the house so you knew you had to rush down to answer the door for who you assumed was Beomgyu. Luckily, you were able to quickly slip on your shoes and grab your purse from its spot on your vanity. Elizabeth trailed behind you, planning to exit your house just after you. You bounded down exactly 12 carpeted steps to get to the living room and open the front door. The smell of freshly cut grass flooded your nose yet your primary concern was the boy standing in front of you. Every time you saw your boyfriend he made your heart flutter. Today, he was wearing a powder blue short sleeved button up and a pair of neatly pressed black slacks. 

“Hey, sugar!” His voice was bright as he held out a hand to guide you out of your home. Elizabeth emerged behind you and Beomgyu’s face split into a crooked smile as he regarded her. She offered him a polite wave and patted you on the back as she said her goodbyes. Beomgyu ushered you to the car, making sure that you didn’t have to open your own door. The sleek white convertible was the envy of all your friends and your boyfriend was not afraid to show it off; especially with you sitting inside. He slid into the driver's seat easily, a sleek metal dashboard reflecting his every move. Beomgyu began to drive. You had no idea where the two of you were going but you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. Downtown was busy this afternoon. Cars lined the streets and people filtered down the sidewalks, apparently all soaking up the sun together on this summer day. You passed the diner you worked at and noted the crowded tables, feeling grateful that you had gotten the day off. As the car came to a stop at a traffic light, you voiced that same thought to Beomgyu. 

“Hm, I’m glad you got the day off, too. D’you think you can ask them for a steady schedule? I wanna make the most of our time together. If you had a schedule like that, maybe we could plan a little road trip to the beach.” He reached a hand out to lace into yours so that you could feel the cold metal of his rings against your palm. You hummed happily at the idea of a steady schedule that would allow more concrete plans with your boyfriend. The light turned green again, and Beomgyu kept only one hand on the wheel so that he wouldn’t have to let go of you. Storefronts whirled past until Beomgyu began to slow in order to pull over to the curb. He parked the car and wiggled his hand out of yours. A loud laugh escaped him as he looked you over. 

“Your hair,” he took a beat to collect himself as well as he could. “The wind got it all messed up.” With anyone else, you would have shrieked in embarrassment, but you simply allowed Beomgyu to fuss over your hair for you. He was very particular, so you knew he would never let you down. Once he was satisfied, he clapped happily and made his way out of the car. No matter how badly you wanted to open your own car door you sat still; knowing Beomgyu was obsessed with the romantic gesture. The boy linked his hand in yours again and pulled you into a store you didn’t have time to examine. 

It was much cooler inside, and as soon as your eyes adjusted to the darker interior you recognized the music shop. Records were carefully stacked on shelves, organized in perfect alphabetical order. Along the back wall, dozens of record players were on display for customers to examine and choose from. Although he had obviously known you were going to end up here, Beomgyu was just as awed as you were. 

“Close your mouth or you’re gonna catch flies,” you poked his side in a teasing gesture. He merely faked upset by pressing his lips into a thin line and dropping your hand. Two could play at that game. “Okay, well if you’re going to be a baby I guess I’ll just...wander over there.” Your finger was pointed right at a gaggle of boys huddled together around the discount bin. Backing away slowly, you kept your gaze locked onto Beomgyu so you could see the split second his attitude changed. It didn’t take long before he was lunging toward you and wrapping his arms around your waist protectively. 

“Please don’t go over there, sugar. They’ll snatch you right up,” he was surely pouting at the idea, which only made your smile grow fonder. Turning to face him properly, you squished his full cheeks between your cupped hands. 

“Well it’s a good thing I have a big, strong boyfriend to scare them away.” Beomgyu keened at your praise and pushed into your hands, obviously thriving under your attention. 

“Let me show you what we actually came here for.” He dragged you between the shelves of records, walking in erratic directions that would have made your head spin if he hadn’t been holding your wrist. Eventually you came face to face with a wall of electric guitars in every color you could have dreamed. You traced your fingers over some of the lined up amps and knit your eyebrows together. It was still a mystery as to why Beomgyu wanted to bring you here so badly. He had wandered away a bit, but you could hear his voice talking to someone else so you simply followed the noise. Where you arrived was simply the corner of the store with padded partitions on either side of a stool, a guitar stand and an amp. Your boyfriend stood with his back to you, conversing with a middle aged man in a uniform.

“Beomgyu, what are you doing?” Curiosity got the best of you once the employee walked away. 

“I have a surprise!” His eyes were sparkling even under the harsh fluorescents of the music store. He sat down on the stool and produced a black and white electric guitar from a place you hadn’t seen before. A pair of big headphones slid over the top of his head and cushioned his ears. Slowly, you stepped closer to him. He plugged the guitar in with ease only a practiced player could have. His hands curved perfectly around the instrument as if he had placed them there thousands of times. Puzzle pieces began to click together in your brain.

“Do you play guitar?” Part of you already knew the answer already, but you had to ask. Beomgyu simply nodded but you could feel the pride radiating off of him. Your boyfriend was nothing if not confident. You watched on as his skilled fingers plucked the strings to produce a tune you didn’t quite know but enjoyed nonetheless. Beomgyu was truly in his own little world as he played guitar, head bobbing up and down with every note. There was nothing to do but look on in awe. Your heart swelled in your chest at the hidden talent of your already extraordinary boyfriend. The tune didn’t last long because Beomgyu became distracted by the wondered look on your face. He unplugged the guitar and set it aside in favor of waving you over to him. Standing between his legs, you were able to get a better look around the padded booth. 

“Can I see the guitar?” Beomgyu picked up the instrument and set it into his lap so that you could easily examine it. It curved easily beneath your fingers, slightly warm from where Beomgyu had just been holding it. The strings were wound perfectly, tightened to the perfect degree in order to produce every note you could want to pluck out. More amazing than the instrument though, was the boy who propped it up. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You weren’t offended, only truly curious as to why he decided to hide such an amazing talent from you. He hid his face behind one of his large hands. 

“I dunno. It just never came up, I guess. But that’s why I wanted to bring you here. I wanted you to know two new things about me.” He peered up at you with wide eyes before finally discarding the shiny instrument and standing to his full height. The proximity between the two of you made your eyelids flutter instinctively. 

“Two new things?” You inquired, trying to recall anything else out of the ordinary he had done. Beomgyu hummed in confirmation. 

“Yeah, two. One, I play guitar. Two,” he waited a beat, letting the general atmosphere of the store sink in on you. “Two is that I’m in love with you.” It was only then that you noticed his hands were shaking between your bodies. You encircled them with your own and brought them up to press a reassuring kiss to the flesh before speaking. 

“Hey, guess what? I love you too.”

[paradoxically-deranged-poet]

Don’t Let Them In

Addiction took our mother slowly, rocked her through it and sung her to sleep sunk deep into the mattress on her bed. When her back teeth fell out, she left them on the side of the bathtub. I was seven, and I kept them in a matchbox, the missing pieces of her kept safe so that she wouldn’t be lost forever. So maybe one day we could put her back together. Our house fell around us, and we tried our best to raise ourselves. The ceilings had water damage, the bottom stairs had dry rot, and in the winters the radiators bled rust. But it was still our house, and Annie made it a home.

My sister Annie mothered me, with lopsided Band-Aids on bruised knees and lukewarm microwave meals. She told me ghost stories and didn’t mind when I crawled into her bed later on, too scared to sleep alone. She taught me to dance, barefoot on the living room carpet, music channel on full volume on the TV shaking our pre-adolescent hips. She always let me shower first so that I could enjoy the hot water, and never complained when she had to make do with the cold. She brushed my hair every day before school, even when I screamed and hit her when she caught the tangles. Annie was dark-haired like her father, whoever he had been, but I was blonde. Annie was desperate to be blonde too, like Marilyn Monroe. Like Mom. I think she thought it would make them closer, remind Mom less of her dad. I’d give anything for her to have her hands in my hair one more time, even if it hurt. She moved to New York when I turned eighteen and never came back. I still dream about her sometimes.

Keeping up with our mother was impossible, and we learned from a young age that we would always be left behind. It didn’t make it any easier. When she was drinking light, she was radiant and would wake us up at 3 am with pancakes dripping in cherry syrup. Sometimes when the weather was right, and she’d had enough being drunk alone, she would call our school up and tell them we had both come down with summer sickness, and we’d drive to the beach instead. I remember being nine years old in the backseat of the car coming home after one of our ocean days, sucking the salt from my fingers. Annie had just dyed her hair blonde, her best friend Jane helping her bend over our kitchen sink. From behind, I couldn’t tell who was the mother and who was the daughter, radio up and windows down, blowing the sky inside.

When she was drinking heavily, she’d be out all night, hair piled up like a beauty queen, eyes glazed over and ringed with glitter and black. Sometimes she’d be gone a day or two. She would never give us advance notice; one day we’d just wake up to an empty house, with the fridge packed full and a post-it note on its door, complete with a smear of Mom’s lipstick in the outline of a kiss, telling us she’d be back soon. Sometimes she’d bring guys home, filling the table with beer cans and ashtrays, smoke up to the ceiling, Mom lost in the haze. We’d sleep with pillows over our heads, trying to drown out the music they would blast all night, and wake up to strangers at our kitchen table in the morning, asking us where we kept the coffee.

When Mom drank too little, she fell apart. She wouldn’t buy food, and the refrigerator went bare. She’d chain smoke, leaving cigarette burns on the wallpaper up by the stairs like the walls were sick and decaying. She barely slept, walking around with blue half-moons under her eyes, knuckles raw. She would scream at the slightest thing. I remember once when I spilled a glass of juice on the couch. She looked over at me with dead eyes and dragged me off onto the carpet and then took every single cushion off the couch and into the back yard and set them on fire. Annie went to watch a while from the window and then sat next to me on the floor, backs pressed against the skeleton of the seats, head resting in the crater of my collar bones.

It was the worst when Mom drank too much. She’d laugh too loudly and too long, at anything and everything, until her mouth started to shake and she began to cry into her cereal at the breakfast table. Annie shut down when Mom was like this, going somewhere deep inside herself where no one could hurt her. She’d stay up until the morning watching old black and white movies on TV, whispering the lines she knew by heart like prayers. When I was five years old, I’d cry when I’d find Mom passed out on her bed, sure she would never wake up. Annie would wipe my tears and tell me she was only sleeping, like the princesses in my storybook. We’d sit on Mom’s bed together and wait for her to wake up. When we were older, I was the one who would pick Mom up off the bathroom floor again and again, and Annie would put her to bed, smoothing her hair off her face, wiping the vomit from her mouth, and changing her clothes if she’d pissed herself. Watching them then, there was no doubt that Annie was the mother now.

It was October, and I was thirteen, Annie sixteen. It was a Wednesday night and Mom had been gone for two days. She’d called us that morning from a payphone, voice slurring, telling us she was having the best time with all her new friends, and that she hoped we were doing fine. When she asked me if I was having a good birthday, I hung up on her. My birthday had been the day before. Annie had given me a pile of presents, strawberry lip gloss and glittery nail polishes. I didn’t ask where she’d gotten the money for them. I didn’t care. We’d taken the bus to the beach with Jane and ate the birthday cake she had made for me, sand getting into the frosting. It tasted like sweetness and the sea, and I savored every bite and scrape of sugar against my teeth. We watched the sun go down, Annie snapping grainy photos on her Nokia as I blew out my candles, wishing over and over that Mom wouldn’t come home, that she’d stay gone this time.

But that Wednesday night, Annie and I weren’t speaking. Anger hung heavy between us, seeping through the floorboards. It began when she tripped at the bottom of the stairs. We’d both laughed, Annie throwing her head back, the gap between her front teeth catching the light. When I’d bent to pick her up, I felt her breath, warm against the freckles on my cheeks. I let go of her arms, and she fell again, hitting the floor and grinning, shaking her hair from her face. Her breath was heavy with whiskey. I couldn’t start picking her up too, couldn’t watch her fall again and again. Just like Mom, I knew she’d never get back up.

I’d stared down at her, blonde hair hanging over her eyes, and all I could see was our mother. Then I was running, feet slamming the hallway like heartbeats turned loose. I’d run for the kitchen and tipped every bottle we had down the sink, shoving Annie back as she fought to stop me, catching liquor on her fingers as it fell. She grabbed my shoulders and made me drop the very last bottle. It smashed between us on the floor, glass shards shining like we’d dragged the stars out of the sky and broken them, like pieces we could never put back. Outside through the open windows, the sky turned pale gold, the clouds a mess of pink and cream smeared across the horizon. I cried then, watching my sister on her knees picking up the pieces. That was Annie, always trying to fix things even when it was too late.

The smell of food dragged me from my room, my stomach turning traitor inside my rib cage. Annie was cooking pasta, real food not made in a microwave. She’d set the table, Tammy Wynette singing softly from the CD player, Annie gently swaying her hips as she stirred the tomato sauce, rich and warm. As we ate in silence, I forgave her more with every bite. Mom never cooked dinner, never remembered my favorite had been spaghetti since I was a kid, and never stayed sober long enough to sit up at a table. Annie wasn’t Mom.

We were washing the dishes when we first heard it. A moth was crawling down the inside of the pane, and I cracked the window to let it out into the dark. From the backyard came a faint sound. I tilted my head to listen as it was coming from far off. Crying. I figured it was Mika, the two-year-old next door, having a tantrum loud enough for us to catch, or maybe even Lucky Strike, the cat that belonged to the junkies down the street, begging for food like he sometimes did. I always wanted to feed him when he came around, winding over my ankles, but Annie always stopped me, saying once you started giving they never stopped taking. Looking back, I don’t think she was talking about the cat.

Annie flipped the Christmas lights strung up around the porch, and we sat on the plastic beach chairs watching the skies. When we were little, we’d sit outside, and Annie would tell me the names of all the constellations and the stories of how they came to be hung up in the night sky. I had to grow up before I realized she made them all up as she went along. It was a game we still liked to play now, making up ridiculous stories for the shapes we could pick out.

“Ah, yes, that one there is the Coors Light. It got there when God dropped it out of his convertible window and never picked it up,” she said, nodding sagely and hiding her smile.

“Of course,” I said, waving my hands and pointing up past the power lines. “Right next to The Ashtray, left there by angels on a smoke break.” “Yeah, they say if you wish on it, all your dreams will come true,” said Annie with a grin.

Then she stopped laughing, and her voice grew quiet, face tilted up to all those dead stars.

“Let’s wish, Emmy. Let’s wish.” So we did.

The sound of wailing interrupted us. It was closer this time, and definitely human. We turned to one another in confusion. Annie shrugged, and I squinted into the black. It sounded like a baby, lost, tired and alone.

“It must be Mika?” I said, slowly getting to my feet. “Maybe he walked around the back? Do you want to call Connie and tell her we’ll bring him over?” Annie didn’t reply. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Okay, I guess I’ll do everything then.”

I stepped off the porch, grass soft against my heels. The air smelled like it might rain, fresh and clean and growing. A promise unfulfilled.

“Em.” Annie’s voice was strained. I turned to her with a smile. It died on my face when I saw the look on her own. “Em, get inside now.”

She was staring out into the dark, past me, and opening the door with one hand behind her, fingers fumbling on the latch. I froze, barefoot in the dirt. I’d glimpsed what she was looking at.

In the bushes by the back fence, someone was crouching with their knees tucked up neatly under his chin, and his arms wrapped around his legs. His mouth was agape, softly opening and closing as he cried. Like a child, lost in the dark. No – not like a child. More like someone pretending, mimicking the sound under cover of darkness. Suddenly they straightened their back, snapping upright, face still obscured by shadow. They were tall and slim, extraordinarily thin by human standards.

Panic made me move, carried forward by animal instincts leftover from a time when people still lived in nature. I was faster than Annie, dragging her inside and slamming the door behind us, hearing it bounce on its hinges as I locked it. We watched as the person slowly approached the house with long, deliberate strides.

Annie reached for my hand, holding me tight, and turned me to face her, holding my shoulders.

“Don’t turn around, Emmy. Don’t turn around.” Instinctively I started to look over my shoulder into the gloom. Annie grabbed my face hard and shook her head. I knew then she was serious.

“I’m…” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, gripping my hand tight enough to hurt, nails digging in, grounding herself. I looked down at our interlocked fingers, both of us born of the same bones.

“I’m going to call the cops, and everything is going to be…” Her voice faltered, stuttering. Tears spilled over her lashes. Annie never cried.

“Your phone’s on the porch,” she whispered, and bile crawled its way up my throat. Her phone was upstairs, charging.

A soft, tap-tap-tapping filled the silence. Annie turned wide-eyed to the window.

It was the sound of someone’s forehead slowly and repeatedly bumping against the glass. Then the blows accelerated, gaining in both speed and strength, skin meeting glass until they were slamming into the window hard enough to shake the panes.

A moment later the tapping stopped, and I was about to ask Annie if I could look now, when she screamed, followed by the sound of cracking glass and a tremendous crash. Whoever was in our yard had just smashed their face hard enough into the window to shatter it.

We ran up the stairs two steps at a time, skipping the rotted ones out of habit. I turned to look behind me once, and Annie yanked my face back before I could see. The sound of glass breaking echoed behind us as we made it to the bathroom and locked the door. A weak, mewling cry, like that of an infant calling for its mother, filled the hallway, trapped between the walls and entryways.

Annie threw her back against the door, feet jammed up against the bathtub, clutching a knife she had grabbed from the kitchen. I joined her, shoulder to shoulder, and did the same. Slow footsteps started on the stairs, calculated and casual. The crying took on a mocking quality, resembling laughter, arriving in short, shrill bursts of sound followed by high-pitched giggling, and then silence, only to start again a moment later. The first door on the upstairs floor was my bedroom, and we heard the distinct sound of it slamming open.

They were looking for us.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked Annie, not even bothering to brush away the tears that I couldn’t keep from falling. I watched my sister pick herself up off the floor and brace her hands on the door as we heard the sound of a second door slamming open. Mom’s room. The next room on the hallway was the bathroom. Annie pulled me to my feet and handed me the knife. I shook my head and pushed it back to her, terrified of what would happen if I had to use it. Annie shoved me and pressed the knife into my hands, thumb pressing hard enough along the edge to draw blood. I watched a winding road of crimson rivulets cascading down her wrist. In spite of the pain, Annie continued pushing the blade into my hands. Finally, I took it from her.

Something slammed against the wall that Mom’s room shared with the bathroom. A high-pitched howl followed. I held my breath and felt my heart beating frantically in the base of my throat.

“I’m gonna get the phone from my room,” my sister said. I shook my head dramatically in protest. Before I could say a word, Annie clamped a hand over my mouth. I could taste the blood on her hand, salty and sweet. Like birthday cake by the ocean. “Yes. I’m gonna get the phone, and I’m going to call the cops. We’re going to be okay.”

I shook my head again.

“It’s the only way,” Annie insisted. “When I go, I need you to lock the door, and I don’t want you to open it for anything or anyone. Not for me, not for… anyone. Promise me.”

I shook my head, and Annie pressed her hand against my mouth, pushing my teeth against my lips so forcefully it made my eyes water. “Promise me, Em!”

Something smashed in the room next door. Annie brushed the hair from my face and gently tucked it behind my ear. “Promise,” she mouthed, and unlocked the door as slowly as possible, the bolt scraping gently. I watched the curve of her shoulder disappear into the darkened hall, like the moon in eclipse. And then she was gone. I couldn’t move or breathe for a second, and then I slammed the bolt shut just as something bounced off the outside of the door. A high-pitched scream ensued, followed by the handle rattling up and down hard enough to pop a screw loose. I watched it roll toward me on the tiles. And then everything went still.

I sat with my back to the door, holding the knife and wishing I was holding Annie’s hand instead. The silence continued. For a moment, the only sound was that of my breath slowly filling the room.

A voice broke the illusion of solitude.

“Em?” a familiar voice came through the door. Startled, I gripped the knife even more firmly than before. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“Mom?” my voice cracked. “Momma, is that you?” I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shaking.

“Sweetie, it’s okay, just open the door. It’s okay, just let me in.” The handle rattled again, gentler this time. “Just let me in, it’s all okay.” She banged impatiently on the door, and I took my handle of the bolt.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I missed your birthday. I’m sorry I’m such a terrible mother. Please!” her voice broke, and she started to cry. “Just let me in, baby. I’m so sorry.”

I screwed my eyes shut. She sounded so sad and so lost. I just wanted her to hold me as like she did when I was a kid, when I’d come in with a scraped knee after falling off the swings. Maybe this time she meant it. Perhaps it would all be okay. My hand found its way to the bolt again.

My sister’s voice came through the door, warm and gentle. “Yeah, Emilie, let us in. It’s all okay.”

My hand froze on the bolt, and I tightened my grip on my weapon. Annie never called me by my full name. A hand banged on the door, handle rattling. “Emilie, let us in!” Annie’s voice became low and guttural, followed by the same shrill giggles from before. Mom spoke now, pleading and crying, her voice growing louder and louder. “Let us in! Let us in! Let us in!” she shouted over and over again, punctuated by her fists on the door. I thought about bedtime stories, and all the demons and monsters we pray never crawl out from under our beds.

“That’s not my sister, and you’re not my mother!” I screamed through the door, hands over my head. I climbed into the bathtub, curled into the fetal position, and clutched the knife to my chest. I didn’t know what it was outside that door, but I knew it wasn’t Annie. It wasn’t the voice that scolded me whenever I changed the TV channel, the one that sang me happy birthday, the one that told me I was smart even when I got bad grades, the one that read me stories about princesses that never wake up. It wasn’t human.

Bangs and yells came from downstairs, followed by the footsteps of people running. A low, guttural howl ripped through the house, filling the room until I felt like I was drowning in the sound, and then the door was kicked in. I screamed, covered my eyes, and waited to die.

A moment later arms found me, lifted me from the tub, and carried me from the room. I looked at the outside of the door as I was taken downstairs. Its exterior was covered in long, scraping claw marks, stretching to the floor. I found the hallway covered in the soft, downy remains of torn-up pillows, making it appear as if it had snowed indoors. I watched the tiny feathers drift slowly as men in uniforms checked each of the rooms that looked like they had been ripped apart by something feral.

Outside, police cars and an ambulance waited in our driveway, and there, in the middle of it all, was Annie, bathed in blue and red light and glowing in the dark like a neon angel. I threw myself from the officer’s shoulders and ran to her. Then I held us both together, broken pieces and all, standing under all those constellations we’d concocted. Muffled screaming came from the ambulance, which rocked occasionally. Annie gently turned my head away, smiling so sadly it made my chest ache. I understood.

It turns out there was no demon. No wild animal or bad men were trying to break in. It was just Mom, out of her mind on booze, drugs, and everything in between, coming to the end of a week-long binge. Something had finally broken inside her head, and this time we couldn’t put her back together no matter how hard we tried. Sometimes you fall one last time, and then never get back up.

Annie had seen her rail-thin frame in the garden, blood dribbling from her mouth, track marks bulging on her forearms like unmapped roads, desperate for one more hit, one more fix. She’d searched the kitchen for all the alcohol I’d thrown away, and when she hadn’t found any, she went hunting for the stash hidden in the bathroom. She hadn’t wanted me, just the drugs on the other side of the door. She’d been so high she was able to mimic Annie’s voice nearly perfectly.

The real monsters are the ones that eat you alive slowly, the kind that comes in a bottle or a needle, or at the end of a long list of reasons why you can’t get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes the monsters are the ones that raise you or love you the most. But it’s up to you to let them in.

[polyx]

Get to know me tag:^)

I was tagged by @criminalmastermine

Name:

Polyxeni

Gender:

Female

Star sign:

Virgo/Sheep

Height:

170 cm

Put your music on shuffle, what are the first six songs to pop up?:

Ok because I listen on Soundcloud, Spotify and my folders on my phone, I’ll do 3 separate :^) Spotify 1) VIXX LR – Chocolatier 2) BTS – Lost 3) MOBB – Hit me (feat. KUSH) 4) Taemin – Thirsty 5) VIXX – Dynamite 6) BTS – Moving on (Ok it’s pretty obvious that I use Spotify mostly for k-pop lol)

Soundcloud 1) Sunday – Only 2) Sofi Tukker – Hey Lion 3) マクロスMACROSS 82 - 99 - 葛城 ミサトYEBISU (YUNG BAE EDIT) 4) Vantage // - Patrick Converter (ft. Chrollo)

5) M.RUX - Rembetiko Mon Amour // ρεμπέτικο αγάπη μου 6) Seiun – otogibanashi My folders on my phone 1) Lorde – Liability 2) Clueso - Achterbahn (Handgepäck Version) 3) Incubus – Pistola 4) Lana Del Rey – Once Upon A Dream (Maleficent OST) 5) Little Boots – Working Girl 6) Banks - Haunt

Grab the nearest book, turn to page 23 and write line 17:

“(…) because “a realisation that comes from society itself” could “already contain a reform (…)“. (roughly translated from German)

Last time you played air guitar?:

Uhm… I don’t know ^^° I rarely do it tbh… I usually dance

Celebrity crush?: The first person that comes into my mind is Lucy Lawless :^)

What’s a sound that you hate/love?:

I love it when it’s 4 in the morning and my window next to my bed is open, and the rain softly hits the glass and no car drives by, or when you sit by the beach at about 7pm in Greece in the summer, when most people had their share of sun and leave the beach, and the water softly hits the shore and a seagull are audible somewhere in the distance, or when you float in the water and your ears are under the water and  you hear the water and your heartbeat… also the soft flat breathing of the person laying next to you, or the rustling of the fabric of your bedding when you lay down to sleep… Idk I like a lot of subtle sounds. I hate hearing my joints cracking because I feel like I am breaking apart or something (?)

Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?:

Ghosts not so much, aliens? Definitely.

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?:

I’ve had my licence for 5 years now and I never crashed :3 I don’t drive much though.

What was the last book you read?:

Simon Beckett – Totanfang / The Restless Dead (original title)

Do you like the smell of gasoline?:

Hm… kinda.

Last movie you saw?:

Fack Ju Göhte 3

Worst injury you’ve ever had?:

Broke my left arm.

Any obsessions right now?: A lot, although I should focus on studying: k-pop (like the biggest obsession atm), writing/reading fanfiction, drawing (my go to instant stress reliever), gaming (I still need to finish Hellblade!!), music overall, manga, my succulents (my babies)

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who’ve wronged you?: Yes. I try to forgive or forget (or both) for my sake, but often it doesn’t work.  

In a relationship?:

Yes.

_______________

SECOND VERSION

Appearance:

I have long brown and blue hair, brown eyes and a long thin nose. My face is quite rectangular, and I have olive skin tone (but pretty light compared to others). I am chubby and well-proportioned I’d say. My nails are always short (except for holiday season because my nails won’t constantly break like during work) and usually some kind of varnish is on it. 50% of the time I wear clothes with some kind of pattern on it or colourful stuff, 25% of the time black and 25% pink shit, and always my casio on my wrist. I have 2 tattoos and 4 piercings, one stretched earlobe. Usually I wear make-up, and everyone knows me for wearing colourful eyeshadow.

Personality:

I am quite outgoing and like spending time with my friends and family and partner, but as much as I love having people around me, I need time to be alone. I just need to. I try to have an open ear for other people’s problems, but be prepared I might cry along with you because I am a very emotional person (like on Friday I was in a concert and started crying because the song was so touching lol). I’d say I am quite confident, but I need time adjusting in a new environment before returning to my confident self. At work I am the most patient person, but with my family I tend to be impatient a lot and I hate myself for it, but it’s getting better. I am very creative and love dwelling on details on random stuff (like I could tell you for an hour why I like a particular song for example). That’s also a reason why I can’t get shit done sometimes because I daydream a lot. Like… a lot… one person told me I remind them of Luna Lovegood because I seem trapped in my own bubble. I love arts. I used to be super tidy as a child, but now I am quite messy. I am often late (sorry to anyone affected by this v.v°). I love travelling. My bag is always ready for my nomad life, as I am always on the go.

Abilities:

I speak 3 languages! Also I draw and make jewellery. Also I have the ability to make a mess out of my room in the shortest amount of time, just watch me :^) professionally I am a druggist (but not the one working at a pharmacy, mind you) and I have a bachelors degree of trade and commerce. Also I’m a certified trainee instructor.

Experiences:

Well? I don’t know what this refers too… Maybe some random shit: -I used to do traditional greek dance as a kid. -I’ve never left Europe (sadly), but I’ve travelled to London, Vienna, Paris, Berlin and other cities. -When I was a smoll bean, I went to the central plaza of my dad’s village in Greece and returned with a puppy in my arms. My grandmother kept the pupper. -I love freaking LOVE technology, when I used my huge ass multitalented wireless printer for the first time and printed something via my phone I almost cried in excitement. -I can stop reading a book if it’s boring. -Once on my way home I sat in the tram, and there was a group of friends, drunk, pretty loud and happy, they were wearing traditional Bavarian clothing (Tracht), and they were …deaf! And one of the girls sat opposite to me, and complimented my hair, like we talked without using words, only by using our facial expressions and our hands, and she grabbed on piece of her hair and pointed at mine and we laughed, and then she offered me some of her vodka and I was so yolo at the moment I accepted, although I don’t accept drinks from strangers usually. I had such a blast these 10 minutes we spent together on the tram, I often think about her, and hope she is doing fine :’) - I remember as a young girl, I was sitting on an old faucet which was built in the short wall framing my grandparents’ house, and I was starring at the sky in disbelief. There I was, a young city girl, born and raised in Munich, sitting on an old faucet somewhere in an small village in Greece starring at the beautiful nightsky, seeing something I’ve never seen before. There were so many stars, just…so… so many stars… thousands and thousands of shiny dots across a black canvas. And they seemed to be alive. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Till this day, I remember this night, and I hear my mom asking what I was doing out there alone, surrounded by the wild noises of thousands of bugs around me. It has been more that 10 years, and this night is so vibrant in my memory. I will never forget this moment till my dying day. Still, I often spent time in Greece watching the stars, always in the back of my mind what my grandma told me once: don’t count the stars, it brings misfortune. - I pierced my ears on my own (…stupid). - I pretty much had my hair dyed any colour of the rainbow (except yellow, but I guess blonde counts?). - I’ve been to A LOT of concerts.

(I have some negative experiences too of course, but I don’t want to dwell on them) My life:

I still live with my parents, because I cannot afford anything on my own atm, but also due to other circumstances. Till the end of September I worked full time, now I started studying sociology (BA). I have been employed in the company I work for for 10 years now, and I love my work although it’s tough :’). I have a little sister who I love dearly, and she is making me a proud big sis:). My parents are the best parents, seriously you could not wish for better parents. I am super grateful to them for all I’ve been able to do in my life and all the love and support they have given, and are still giving me. Also, I’m so proud of them. The thought of what my parents have gone through makes me cry. I used to think I don’t have a lot of friends, but I do! And they all are beautiful unique personalities, I love them! I live the nomad live, as I feel I’m rarely home, always on the go. My co-workers are the sweetest people, I love seeing their faces light up when they see me :’) (ILY!!!) And my partner… there are no words to describe what sweet of a person he is. A puppy is nothing against him. I want to cuddle him forever. I am online a lot, but I don’t get involved with a lot of people online, safe for… 2 :’D Rach and Mine! I usually admire from afar, and fangirl in the tags for example. Overall I wake up everyday being thankful, my life is good! I appreciate every moment. I am blessed.

Relationships: I’ve only had 2 lmao, and I’m still friends with my first partner. Random stuff:

Ups I think I answered this earlier already…

THIRD VERSION

Relationship status:

In a relationship. We have an imaginary daughter lol.

Fave colour:

All hues of blue! Basically every colour but blue is the most dear to me.

Lipstick or ChapStick:

Lipstick for sure. I always have one in my pocket.

Last song:

Shahmaran by Sevdaliza

Last movie:

Fack Ju Göhte 3

Top 3 shows:

I don’t watch TV, neither do I have the time for series (I have GOT on halt, as well as “Halt and Catch Fire”) … But “The Vision of Escaflowne” is my favourite series of EVER. The story, the characters, the music, the art, the world building, I could cry it’s so beautiful. Also the whole ATLA and TLOK Series, it is so good!!! *cries*

Top 3 ships:

Oh man… ok. I’ll go for Amorra (Amon and Korra, TLOK), Truhan ( Gohan and Trunks, Dragonball Z) and basically every possible VIXX ship, because I love them all (but Wontaek though…)

I’d like to tag @valkerymillenia, @abnaxus, @coolera but you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to :’)