#I CAN THROW THINGS WITH MY MIND (dies from an asthma attack)

[icedmetaltea]

.

I'm supposed to go back to my apartment tomorrow... or at least start, it's a 9 hour drive. Considering I can't go 30 mins in a car without a panic attack, I'm guessing I'll have at least 5 a day, and considering even one is traumatizing enough??? I'm gonna fucking die I swear to god

There's still so much to do, so much to pack, so much to clean, dishes to wash, laundry to do... I've barely eaten today and I didn't even notice till now. My stomach hurts but I'm not hungry, couldn't dream of eating rn

I've had this awful choking, lump-in-throat feeling come throughout the day, got really bad this past hour, just been laying in bed trying to not swallow cause whenever I do that makes it worse. I keep coughing, trying to get it out, but nothing helps... I know it's gotta be anxiety but in the back of my brain I'm worried it's asthma, like I've had mild asthma this whole time and just didn't know it and I'm just lucky I haven't died yet

Sure feels like I'll suffocate. People liken it to breathing through a straw and yep I've sure felt that a lot. I also noticed it gets worse when I use perfume so that leads me to think it could be that more...

Nothing is helping today. I've tried staying distracted by playing games but no, ofc it's 70 degrees... is that normal in march?? I don't even know anymore. It's supposed to get to 80 on thursday. My only hope is that the conditioner my parents are lending me will work better than the shitty window fan in literally one room in my apartment.

I don't want to go back there. Realistically I know I have to, I still have a lot of stuff I'd need to throw out before I could move, and if I did move... where?? There's nowhere to go. I could move to an apartment in the state my parents are moving to but they're in the process of moving in and it could take like half a year or longer for them to fully move in, and even then I don't know if they plan to stay there or only go there in a specific season.

My sister isn't that far from the apartment, maybe 20 mins ish, but she works and I don't know her schedule, plus she has kids and will probably not be available most of the time if I have a bad panic attack or there's some kind of emergency

Everything is just so fucked right now. The economy is in shambles, women's rights are getting stripped away more and more every day, we're on the brink of like multiple wars and I'm just trying to get through my last semester and don't know if I can due to all this shit plus my dyscalculia

Even if I do... what then?? I don't have a plan for my future. I would never make it as a therapist. I would never make it as any of my other dream jobs through the years. The only thing I can think of is some computer science job but my eyes cross when trying to do that, I'm the opposite of logic-minded, I really just have no skills or passions or anything to set me apart

And my blood pressure keeps getting high for some reason. I know it's probably the anxiety but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that??? I tried therapy for half a year and it didn't help, might've made it worse bc she kept saying I should just give up and go on disability (which as we know would probably just lead to poverty) I can't get on meds because the ones I've tried make me suicidal (er) and I've tried healthy eating + exercising as much as I can considering I can't do anything more than walking and guess what??? I still have anxiety

I just want to live with my parents forever but even if I did, they're still going to die someday. Everyone I love is going to die and I'm going to be alone and/or abandoned again and again and again. It's be just like danny all over again.

Like genuinely what am I even alive for?? People always say it gets better and sure it does... for a while. Then I end up back at rock bottom. And I always will. Because I'm a failure

[midnightwhispers12]

So, I have this idea in my head, and I’ll never write it out into a coherent fic, but the basic outline is:

The story starts with a montage of Stiles doing his caretaker-shtick - grocery shopping, cooking healthy meals, washing dishes, cleaning up the pack’s shared spaces, planning ahead for who needs to be where at what time, making sure everyone has everything they need, doing laundry, reminding the ‘wolves to schedule themselves off when they inevitably forget what day the full moon is again, etc, etc.

But.

The thing is? Stiles hates it. He HATES it. He started doing this stuff for his dad after his mom died and his dad disappeared into the office and a bottle of Jack, but it was always an obligation of the “if I’m more useful and less trouble, maybe he’ll want to spend time with me more often” variety. Their relationship eventually got better again (mostly), but if Stiles stopped doing the household chores, they just didn’t ever seem to get done. And eventually, they’d be out of food for the second week in a row, or he’d run out of clean clothes, or bathtub would be growing the mold that aggravated Scott’s asthma again, and Stiles would give in and just take care of it. And after enough times of trying to subtly shift some of the responsibility back onto his dad, and it failing every time, he just quit trying. It was less infuriating to do just do it himself.

When he moved in with Derek, some small, unspoken part of him was hoping that things would change. And, in Derek’s defense, it’s not like he just immediately refused to do anything around the apartment. But Stiles had a long habit at that point of just doing what needed done, and not waiting for someone else to do it. So he’d pick up groceries on his way home from work or class, and it wasn’t like he was going to intentionally not get the bananas for Derek’s nasty protein shakes while he was there anyway. He’d do his own laundry, and throw Derek’s laundry in too, because there’s no need to waste water on two half-full loads.

And slowly but surely, almost without even realizing it, he was back to being responsible for ALL the household chores. It only got worse once the pack filtered back in to living in Beacon Hills full time as they finished their degrees. A pack meeting needed to happen, so who was responsible for planning it? Stiles. Who was in charge of knowing when everyone was available? Stiles. Who had to clean up when the pack showed up uninvited and left their living room and kitchen in shambles? Stiles.

It’s not like he got to just stop taking care of his dad’s house either. He didn’t do as much anymore, but he and Derek had dinner at his dad’s at least every Sunday evening. They used to bring take-out over, but after the Sheriff gained 20lbs and got chewed out by his doctor for his cholesterol levels, Stiles went back to cooking for all of them every Sunday. Which turned into bringing groceries over for the meal he intended to make, because John didn’t have what he needed in the house. Which turned into bringing over a week’s worth of groceries, because the pantry and fridge were completely bare. Which turned into meal-prepping for the next week after dinner, while his dad and Derek watched whatever ESPN was showing, because seriously, eating fast food six days a week was just beyond unhealthy. And if he wanted space to cook, he had to do the week’s worth of dishes piled up in the sink. Plus, he always wound up cleaning whatever bathroom he used if he needed the toilet while they were visiting, because... gross. At least his dad seemed to be doing his own laundry now?

It doesn’t happen all at once, of course. Things build up over time, so slowly he doesn’t notice taking on one more task, and one more, and one more. No one likes doing chores, right? But someone’s got to do them. Someone has to plan ahead for the pack. If he sees that something needs done, it’s best to just go ahead and do it and get it over with, right?

Until one day, he’s just exhausted. It doesn’t make any sense, because he slept a full 7 hours last night, work is no more stressful than normal, there’s not a murderous monster of the week trying to kill everyone, nothing is wrong - everything’s actually been going surprisingly well for a while now. But Stiles is still completely and utterly wiped. Maybe he’s coming down with a bug or something? Since it’s Saturday, he decides to just take it easy and hopefully he’ll feel better tomorrow.

Derek comes over and scratches his scalp, taking a beyond obvious sniff of him (weirdo werewolves) when he sees there’s no breakfast happening, but just kisses his head and gets himself a bowl of cereal when he doesn’t smell anything amiss. The pack comes over and someone throws together sandwiches for lunch, and then they order takeout for supper. His dad shows up after his shift is over, and really, it’s a pretty typical Saturday, other than Stiles staying on the couch most of the day, instead of being up and moving around constantly. By midnight, he still doesn’t feel sick, which is good, and his mind and body both feel a little more rested. But he’s still somehow... existentially exhausted, maybe? Or something like that anyway, he doesn’t really know. It doesn’t make any sense!

But then he gets up to go to the bathroom and refill his water bottle. He looks around, and sees the clutter around the living room - the scattered pillows and blankets, magazines and books, cups and popcorn bowls, crumbs everywhere, water rings and greasy fingerprints on every flat surface. He walks into the kitchen and sees the sink completely full of dishes, the countertops piled with empty takeout boxes and trash. His foot actually sticks to the floor when he takes another step, where apparently someone spilled something and didn’t clean it up. The half-bath off the kitchen is occupied, so he shuffles toward the bedroom, and sees the laundry basket piled high; he usually does laundry on Saturday mornings, but he didn’t get to it this morning, and clearly Derek didn’t either. He finally makes it into the master bathroom, and sees Derek’s wet towels from this morning thrown on the floor.

As Stiles takes care of business on auto-pilot, he thinks about needing to go to his dad’s house tomorrow - planning what to make for the week, picking up groceries on the way there, cleaning the kitchen, cooking supper, cleaning up, making meals for the rest of the week to put in the fridge, cleaning up again, probably cleaning the bathroom.

He thinks about all the other things he’ll need to do tomorrow here at home - laundry he didn’t get done today, cleaning the living room and kitchen where it was left a mess, which means dishes, trash, sweeping, mopping, and picking up all the clutter, at least. Then MORE meal planning and grocery shopping because he didn’t get that done today either. The pack decided earlier that they wanted to go to the beach next weekend, so that’ll need planned - who’s driving, where they’re going, food and drinks to buy and pack, sunscreen, towels, after-sun gel (because werewolves always say they can’t burn, but then they do, and they WHINE, it’s so ridiculous), extra clothes because someone always forgets, talc powder and wet wipes to get all the sand off before they get back in the car, umbrellas, toys to make sandcastles (and enough shovels that the giant children won’t fight over them), a volleyball for the net... so many things. And if he doesn’t plan ahead for it all, and gather everything they need, then no one will, and it’ll be a miserable trip full of grouchy ‘wolves.

The more Stiles thinks about everything that needs done, the heavier the invisible weight on him feels, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling more tired than he did when he woke up this morning. Derek walks into the bedroom, apparently to change out of his tight jeans and into sweatpants for the last movie of the night, but he throws his jeans down on the floor NEXT to the laundry basket, which is RIGHT THERE.....

And something snaps in Stiles. The proverbial straw has officially broken the camel’s back, and he’s just DONE. He can’t remember the last time anyone else did a chore, or cleaned up their own mess. He’s not entirely sure how everything got to this point, but he’s abruptly furious enough to make sure it doesn’t continue on this way.

Derek trails off from his last sentence, looking over at Stiles when he smells the boiling rage coming off of him, and follows after Stiles as Stiles stalks back out into the living room to glare at all the people gathered there, werewolf and human alike. One by one, the pack notices the steam coming out of Stiles’ ears, and fall silent in apprehension. Stiles is irritated and annoyed pretty frequently, but this level of anger is rare. What’s the deal?

The deal is - Stiles is on strike. They are a bunch of full grown adults, and as of right now, they’re going to have to pull on their big wolf undies and start acting like it. He is DONE acting like their parent, and he’s not going to do it anymore. If they want to eat, they’ll have to cook. If they want to eat nothing but fast food and die of a heart attack, that’s their choice to make. If they want to live in filth, so be it. If they have a miserable trip to the beach because no one planned ahead and packed the necessities, well, it sucks to be them. If they schedule themselves to work on the full moon, that’s their own problem, he’s not warning them or fixing it for them anymore. He’ll be getting a separate laundry basket for himself, and if Derek wants clean clothes, he can wash them himself.

They want to know what happened to family/pack taking care of each other? You know what, what DID happen to that? When’s the last time anyone attempted to take care of something for HIM? When’s the last time someone else saw something that needed done, and just did it? Or do they even SEE the things that need done anymore? No, because they’re too used to Stiles just taking care of it, and they don’t have to think about it. But this system has turned them all into spoiled, ungrateful brats, and he’s not enabling that anymore. He’s just not.

At first, the pack thinks Stiles is just being overly dramatic, Derek had warned them he wasn’t feeling well, after all. But over the next few weeks, they start to notice. Things just aren’t getting done. Who was responsible for this before? Oh yeah, Stiles. Why don’t they have want they need? Oh right, Stiles stopped packing for anyone but himself. It’s just little things here and there at first, but they add up quickly.

Meanwhile, Stiles has given himself permission to quit carrying the mental load for everyone, and he’s stopped trying to take care of every single little thing for a giant group of people, and he’s feeling so much more relaxed than even he expected. Yeah, it’s a little strange not cooking for Derek, but they had a long talk about it the day after Stiles exploded rage all over everyone, and Derek sees where he hasn’t held up his end. Stiles staunchly refused to do any household caretaking for the next month, and Derek agreed; they’re going to talk about it when the month is up, and decide then how they can fairly divide their responsibilities. No one else in the pack has even tried to talk to him about it, not even his dad. They did show up for Sunday dinner like usual, but when Stiles refused to cook or clean the kitchen so someone else could cook, they wound up just ordering from the local pizza place. Stiles felt a little guilty as he watched his dad eat greasy pizza, but he reminded himself over and over that his dad was a grown man who could make his own decisions.

It takes time for the pack to feel normal again, and Stiles sometimes feels a little guilty about that too, but Derek is on his side, so it’s bearable. Derek is the one that had to clean up the mess the pack left when they all stormed out the night Stiles went on strike, after all. Slowly though, one by one, the pack members come to Stiles and each one quietly apologizes for taking Stiles for granted, for not appreciating everything he did for them. Over time, they all begin to take up more responsibility for the pack, and as a result, they feel more invested in the pack too. They become less a group of people thrown together, and more a cohesive unit. Stiles does start contributing again, but he’s careful to only take on his share. And he has to take some deep breaths to not burst into tears the first time a pack member comes over with a haul of junk food for movie night, and they actually thought to bring him Reese’s cups and Twizzlers, his two favorites.

He thought life was good before, and it was. But this? This is better.

[onceuponaloonatic]

Can you update the misahyo au?

of course !!

In the nearly twenty years of being with Sana, Jihyo had never come home to her crying. Sure Sana had cried plenty once she was home, and while she wasn’t at home, but never once had Jihyo come home to Sana sobbing. It seemed today was a day of firsts.

After dropping Nayeon off, Jihyo had taken her and Nico home, too far into her head about what Sana had told her to really listen to Nico and engage with her on the ride. Once they got home, Jihyo helped Nico out of her car seat and brought her inside. She helped her with her shoes and then told her she was going to check on Sana and Mina. As awful as it made Jihyo, she just needed to see Sana. She needed to see how her wife was and she needed to hold her. Even if it meant she left Nico by the entry to their house, standing awkwardly by the locked front door. (Jihyo had made sure to check that it was locked the minute she and Nico were inside. Jihyo finds Sana on the couch. She’s curled up in a ball, and a mess of tears. She meets Jihyo’s eyes and Jihyo can feel her heart shattering at the sight of her wife so absolutely destroyed. Sana looked so scared. Jihyo was with her immediately. After a quick check to make sure Sana was okay with a hug, Jihyo wrapped her up so tightly. She didn’t want to let go. She ended up holding Sana. She needed to be here for her. Of course she wished Mina was here too, but right now she could only focus on Sana.

“Mama?” The moment is broken when Jihyo sees Nico standing there staring at the two of them. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“N-Nico.” “What’s wrong with mommy?” Sana sobbed harder at the questions, cuddling closer to Jihyo. “It-it’s nothing baby. Why don’t you go play upstairs? Mommy is just a little sad about… Big kid stuff.” “Mommy okay?” Nico asked, the tears spilling over as she watched Sana fall apart. Jihyo’s heart somehow broke even more at the sight. “Just go upstairs please.” Jihyo knew she was being too harsh, but she couldn’t keep three people from completely falling apart. “Mommy… Mommy okay?” More tears spilled out from both Nico and Sana. Sana shook in Jihyo’s arms while Nico stood in front of her, both on the verge of getting much worse. “Nico- please just go upstairs.” Jihyo sighed.

“No!” Nico screamed, more tears coming out as she started sobbing. “Mommy okay?” “Nico…” Sana muttered from Jihyo's arms. Nico stayed for a few more seconds before running off, and Jihyo made sure to follow her long enough to know she went upstairs. Jihyo sighed as Sana shifted closer to her. She was still shaking in Jihyo’s arms. “Babe can you-go make sure she’s okay?” “I will in a bit but I need to make sure you're okay first.” Sana shifted closer to Jihyo, burying her face into her chest. Her breathing was starting to even out, and Jihyo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sana calming down a bit.

“I’m fine.” Sana insisted. “No love you're not, and that’s okay. It’s really scary. And you need to feel that fear and sadness. You are a mom, but you're also a person Sana. Burying your emotions even if it is for Nico isn’t going to be good in the long run. It’s going to hurt you and Nico.” Jihyo started drawing small shapes on Sana’s back, pressing kisses to her head as she thought about what to say. It was scary, for all of them. In Jihyo’s arms, Sana took a few shaky deep breaths, slowly regaining control of her mind. “You’ve been a mom for as long as I have, how are you better at it?” Sana muttered once she was calm. As she came down, she felt exhaustion creep in. “I’m not better at it.” Jihyo muttered between kisses to Sana’s hairline. “I just think we need to be our best for her. And sometimes to be our best we need to take some time for ourselves.” “Look at you, such a good mama. I married the right person.” Sana joked, settling against Jihyo and closing her eyes. “You and Mina.” “Mina….” Jihyo sighed. “I’m-” Jihyo and Sana were both surprised when the doorbell rang. Jihyo felt Sana immediately tense up again, all of the tension returning to her body and her face went from sleepy to scared in seconds. Jihyo took a deep breath, knowing it was probably not Sana’s parents. They had no way of knowing their address. Momo’s mother wouldn’t tell them and it’s not like they had talked to Sana since they got arrested. Even with that knowledge though, she still couldn’t help the tension building up inside her. Jihyo made Sana stay on the couch, and the minute she’s gone Sana is grabbing a throw pillow for comfort. Jihyo had to get on her tip toes to properly see through the peephole and Sana would have laughed at her if she was in a better mood. “It’s just Nayeon and Momo.” Jihyo announced to Sana, seeing her wife relax. She couldn’t blame her, Jihyo felt relief flood her as well as she opened the door. “Hey guys, now’s not a great time so-”

“I know. I’m here for Sana.” Momo looked like a woman on a mission as she interrupted Jihyo. “My mom told me what was going on and to check on her.”

“She’s in the living room.” Jihyo knew Momo could be protective, especially when it came to Sana. They had been friends for so long, and Momo was some of the only biological family Sana had left. She knew Momo was one of the best people for Sana right now. “And I’m here for Nico.” Nayeon announced. “Nico?” Jihyo asked. “I’m guessing you guys upset her.” Nayeon moved inside to take her shoes off and Jihyo closed the door behind her, immediately making sure to lock it. “I-how did you know?” Jihyo asked, genuinely surprised. “We have a special bond.” Jihyo looked at Nayeon accusingly. “Alright alright, Mina texted me she was really upset.” “Mina?” “Apparently she went to Mina after you told her to go upstairs. She told Mina what happened and Mina told me.” Nayeon explained. “I can take Nico if you want to talk to Mina… I know you're trying to give Mina her space, but I think it’s time you guys talk.” “Did Mina say anything to you?” Nayeon sighed and nodded no. “She doesn’t have to. This is one of the longest episodes she had in a while, and it’s affecting all of you. With this stuff with Sana’s parents going on, I think you guys need to sort out what’s going on with Mina like now. It’s hurting all three of you, and it’s hurting Nico. This is one of her first times being around Mina when she’s like this- I’m sure she’s confused and scared and it’s stressing her out. When you add Sana on top of it, god I can only imagine how scary it must be at her age.” Nayeon explained. “Maybe that’s why she was so upset earlier when Sana was crying…” Jihyo thought aloud. “I have a feeling that contributed. I think it’s also pretty disorienting to come home to your mom having a breakdown and your other mom basically telling you to go away. She’s three Hyo, she isn’t exactly capable of completely understanding things like anxiety and depression and breakdowns. You did the right thing sending her upstairs, but I also think you could have handled it a little better.” Nayeon sighed. “But that’s okay. You guys are learning. A big part of parenting is learning. You're going to make some mistakes along the way and Nico’s going to be mad at you or upset for a bit, but as long as you make it right it will all workout.” “Thanks Nayeon Unnie…” Jihyo sighed. Nayeon really was one of the best people in Jihyo’s life. As much as she complained about the older girl, she and Jeongyeon had always been Jihyo;s rocks. “It’s easy to have perspective on stuff like this when you are on the outside. But really as hard as it is, at the end of the day it’s up to you to make the decisions you think are right for Nico.” Nayeon put a comforting hand on Jihyo’s shoulder. “Now, I’ll be upstairs with Nico. You might want to give Momo a minute alone with Sana, you know and I both know Momo knows things about Sana neither of us will ever understand.” Nayeon explained.

“Yeah, you're right, I’ll go check in on Mina… I’m sure she’s rattled.” Jihyo sighed.

“Sure. And Hyo, make sure you don’t take on too much. You tend to do that sometimes.” Nayeon sighed, letting go of Jihyo’s shoulder. Jihyo followed her friend upstairs, Nayeon immediately went to Nico’s room. Her door was open, and in passing Jihyo could see her with her face buried into her giant stuffed bear Sana had insisted on getting for Nico’s third birthday. On a trip to Costco, Nico had seen the giant stuffed bears and absolutely fell in love. Convincing her to let go of the bear was one of the hardest things in the world to do. She had thrown a huge fit and Jihyo had to take her to the car. After a full blown meltdown, she had an asthma attack in the car. After that, Nico seemingly forgot about the bear. When her birthday was coming up, Sana had decided it would be a good gift for her, despite the fact they had already picked out quite a few gifts for their little princess. Nico had nearly died when she saw it on her birthday. She jumped up and down and almost had another asthma attack when she came downstairs and found it in the living room.

“Mina…” Jihyo found her wife in the bed. Mina looked like she was crying, her form shaking under the covers. “Love, it’s me again.” “I’m starting to think you might live here.” Jihyo could’t help but crack a smile at that. At least Mina could still crack a small joke. “Maybe I just really like the girls that live here.” Jihyo responded, moving closer to the bed. “Nayeon’s with her right now. Momo is with Sana.” Jihyo sat on the edge of the bed. She reached a hand towards Mina, but stopped herself midway. “Hey love… You don’t have to talk about it yet, but we- we can’t keep this up. Nico can’t- I can’t- I don’t want to rush you my love but we can’t do this forever. Maybe just, can we talk about making things a little better?” Mina was quiet at that, snuggling closer to the covers. Jihyo hates seeing the tears on her love’s face. “I- Nico told me something was wrong with Sana.” Mina’s voice was hoarse. Jihyo made a mental note to grab her some water later. “Yeah… But it’s- we should talk about you first.” Jihyo sighed. “Please my love… It hurts all of us to see you this way.” “I-I’m sorry.” Mina started sobbing some more. Jihyo hated it. She hated knowing Mina was in so much pain. “No no baby it’s okay. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel like this. We just- we love you. And we want to help you feel a little better.” Jihyo muttered, tangling her fingers in Mina’s hair. “You don’t have to be perfect Mina. None of us expect that from you. Me, Sana, Nico, none of us expected you to be perfect. You know that, right?” Mina’s silence was the answer to Jihyo’s question. “Love, none of us expect you to be perfect. You’re already doing so good. We are all so proud of you.” “Nico too?” “Of course. Nico thinks the world of you, but she knows no one is absolutely perfect.” Jihyo muttered. “She loves all of us so much. She loves you so much.” “What about today?” Jihyo gently moved all the hair stuck to Mina’s face away. “You and I both made mistakes today baby. But it’s okay. She’s fine- I should have texted you and warned you she was in a fragile mood. The last few days… Haven’t been ideal for all of us, her included. Nayeon is with her right now. She told me everyone is going to make mistakes and part of parenting is learning. None of us really know what we’re doing… Do we?” “No.” Mina couldn’t help but giggle. Her crying had stopped, and Jihyo was more than relieved to see the small crack in Mina’s face “Exactly. We can make things better, but we both need to put in a little effort, okay?” Jihyo swiped her thumb across Mina’s cheek. “Mm-kay.” “Okay?” “Mm-hum.” Jihyo continued swapping her thumbs across Mina’s cheeks. “I want to see Nico.” “You don’t have to love.” “I want to.” Mina sat up, reaching for one of Jihyo’s hands. Jihyo immediately held it. “Okay.” Jihyo smiled. “Let’s go.” Mina held tightly to Jihyo’s hand as they made the short journey to Nico’s room. Her door was closed, so Jihyo knocked on it. At Nayeon’s “come in” Jihyo slowly opened the door, keeping eye contact with Mina to make sure she was okay. At Mina’s insistence, Jihyo opened the door. “Hello.” Nayeon greeted them. Nico was in Nayeon’s lap, her face buried in Nayeon’s stomach. “Hey Nico, we have some visitors.” She seemed calmer, sleepily cuddling with Nayeon. “Hey sweetheart.” Jihyo led Mina to sit next to Nayeon and their daughter. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you were worried about Mommy. And that was sweet, but um the thing with mommy, it was adult stuff. I know you want to help and that’s really sweet of you.” “And I’m sorry too baby, I- haven’t been feeling well lately and I shouldn’t have gotten mad. Can you forgive Ka-san?” “Katsu?” Nico looked up from Nayeon, tears still lingering on her cheeks. “You want Katsu?” Mina couldn’t help but giggle. “Uh-hum.” “Alright, you can have all the katsu curry you want.” Nico brightened a little, reaching a hand out from Mina. The two held hands and Mina brought Nico’s hand up to kiss it. “I love you.” “I love you too ka-san.”

[artistjojo1228]

Rock and Roll Storytime #9: The Decline and Early Death of Brian Jones (including details I’ve found through personal research)

It was a cool spring morning when, while I was goofing off in art class, I got the bright idea to try writing about the 27 Club for one of those YouTube documentaries. The plan was simple: I was going to talk about Robert Johnson, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Mia Zapata, Kurt Cobain, Kristen Pfaff, Amy Winehouse, and Anton Yelchin, seven because of being the “Tragic Seven” and the other three because I found their stories interesting (I actually first heard of the club not long after Anton’s death). 

And then, in about as much time as it took for me to come up with that idea, I went from being obsessed with Kurt Cobain to being obsessed with Brian Jones. Most likely, in my opinion, because of the mysterious circumstances surrounding his early death. I guess, in a way, all it took was me hearing that there were conspiracies saying he’d been murdered to convince me to look into his story. After all, very early on in my Nirvana obsession, I went through a regretful phase where I believed Kurt had been murdered. I didn’t want to make a similar assumption again. 

What I’m trying to say, is that this will be about Brian’s ousting from the band he created, his death on the night of July 2, 1969, and the steps I took to figure out what the hell happened. 

By mid-May, I’d already come up with my first theory: that Brian had an asthma attack and drowned as the result of that. Around this time, I learned that Brian: a, had a sister, Pamela, who’d died at the age of two from leukemia (he was just three), and b, within the next year, he suffered a severe bout of croup that left him with lifelong asthma. While I was researching in the usual way I do, I’d also heard that chlorine can trigger asthma attacks or allergic reactions, especially when there is organic material in the pool (e.g. sweat).  However, it wasn’t until September that I stumbled upon Brian’s autopsy report, so until that point, I’d had little to no idea that the coroner ruled out an asthma attack. Even then, I’d already been hearing my fair share of complaints that the autopsy report was perfunctory, so I’d just made the assumption that the coroner had somehow missed that if it had happened that way.  

I don’t know why my early perspective started changing. I just know that the one constant was that I refused to believe that Brian was murdered (sitting through Stoned on May 31, 2019, certainly didn’t help matters). 

Throughout, I began to learn of Brian’s life story, and how he eventually found himself kicked out of the very band he brought to life. 

In short, Brian used to play in jazz clubs, and it was on April 7, 1962, that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards saw the young blonde calling himself “Elmo Lewis” play slide guitar on stage for the first time (one of the first Britons to master it, through no small amount of effort). In May 1962, Brian placed an ad for musicians in a local newspaper, and was shortly thereafter joined by Ian Stewart, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Dick Taylor, and Tony Chapman. In December 1962, Taylor was replaced by Bill Wyman, and in January 1963, Charlie Watts replaced Tony Chapman. There’s also how the band got their name, but I’d prefer to save that for another storytime. 

What I should probably talk about instead, is where the first cracks started to form in this partnership. 

See, when the Rolling Stones were on tour in October 1963, it was revealed that Brian had an arrangement with the financial advisor, Eric Easton, which basically stated that Brian, as leader of the group, would receive five pounds more than everyone else (this equates to $137.30 today). Everyone else, who was under the impression that they were all earning the same amount of money from each gig, was kind of pissed about it, and maybe rightfully so. However, I don’t see why this should be enough for Mick and Keith to uphold a fifty-six-year-long grudge that includes what is essentially damnatio memoriae, but I guess that’s their business. But keep in mind, Bill Wyman has since stated that, at that time, they were earning 193 pounds per week at this point (roughly $1,963.75 in today’s money). That’s only seven percent of the band’s total income at that point. It still seems like a stupid reason to me for Mick and Keith to still be getting on Brian’s case for something like that fifty-six years later (and before anyone says anything, yes, I know there’s more to it than that, but it’s stupid that it all started with five pounds).  

Going back to my personal search for answers for a moment or two, it was now June 2019, and I was also starting to look into the murder theory, if only for posterity. I remember vividly being on a trip to France and accidentally convincing one of the girls on the trip that Brian had been murdered when I was telling her about him. 

Erm... whoops. 

Even so, in that one brief moment, I allowed myself to entertain that possibility. After all, most of the sources I was reading at that point were all saying that Brian’s death had probably been manslaughter, if not murder, and what was definitely consistent was that the witness reports weren’t consistent, and it just seemed easier to believe that. After all, Brian’s death was suspicious enough, so why not?

Easier...

It only took a day or two for me to remind myself why I had refused to believe it for this long: because of my regrets in believing Kurt had been murdered, and because I no longer wanted to take the easy route. 

If I was going to say Brian was murdered, without a shred of doubt, I had to do more research. 

And now for part two of Brian’s Jones’ slow decline: his relationship with Anita Pallenberg and the subsequent fallout from it. Now, Brian and Anita met on September 14, 1965 (my grandmother’s seventh birthday) after a Rolling Stones concert in Munich. The two apparently found an instant connection, thanks to Brian’s ability to speak German (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5N-O8_eB34). However, the relationship afterwards was very much mutually abusive. Keith said in his autobiography that he would sometimes see Brian with a black eye, and in September 1966, Brian broke his wrist. The “official” story was that Brian broke his wrist in a climbing accident, but other stories suggested that he instead broke his hand during an argument with her when he hit his hand against a metal window frame (though in one more salacious telling I heard, he broke his hand on her face, which doesn’t sound entirely possible to me). 

Meanwhile, he did write and perform the soundtrack for her movie, Mord Und Totschlag (A Degree of Murder), which gives us a rare glimpse into Brian’s extraordinary musical talent and genius. That was probably the only good thing that came out of all this. 

Then of course, in 1967, Keith’s home, Redlands, was busted, and the Glimmer Twins were charged with various drug offenses. Their lawyers recommended they should get out of the country for a while, so Mick, Keith, Brian, and Anita traveled down to Morocco for a little while. However, in Toulouse, France, Brian became ill with pneumonia, and spent the next few days in the hospital. 

Meanwhile, as Brian was celebrating his 25th birthday in the hospital, Anita and Keith went on ahead of him, and they began seeing each other behind Brian’s back. When Brian was finally able to join the group, he surely noticed the newfound chemistry between Keith and Anita, especially considering Keith wasn’t very confident around the ladies at this point in time. He knew he was losing Anita, and apparently, he welcomed the confrontation. In mid-March, 1967, he paid for the services of two “Berber whores,” and when Anita returned to the hotel room, he told her to join them in a foursome. Stories vary as to what happened next, what is typically a constant in this story is that she refused. According to Keith, Brian started throwing food at her (apparently, in a fight sometime around then, Anita had broken two of Brian’s ribs and one of his fingers), and she fled out of fear and humiliation. Bill, in his book Stone Alone, alleged that Brian beat her savagely, to the point where she was in fear of her own life. The abysmal movie Stoned just claimed he sexually assaulted her (which, yeah, I don’t believe happened). Whatever happened that night (lord knows, Brian can’t speak for himself), Anita fled to Keith’s room, where he convinced her to leave with him, basically giving her the “You deserve better” speech and saying that Brian might try to kill her if she stayed with him (which also doesn’t seem likely to me, even being fully aware of Brian’s violent streak). 

In either case, the next day, Mick, Keith, and Anita all left Morocco, leaving Brian stranded there for the next two days. Several years after his death, his own father would claim that Anita was the one who broke Brian’s heart and sent him into a fatal downward spiral, but in Paul Trynka’s book, those who knew Brian like Linda Lawrence (mother of Brian’s fourth child) and Stanislaus “Stash” Klossowski (friend of the Stones’) were of the opinion that it had rather been Mick and Keith’s betrayal that had sent Brian into that deadly spiral. 

Personally, I’d say it’s a toss-up

In either case, Brian’s drug and alcohol abuse worsened. 

Meanwhile, some fifty-two years later, it was July 2019. The fiftieth anniversary of Brian’s death had come and gone, and as my first (emotionally abusive) relationship was reaching a long-overdue close, I decided to get Stone Alone in the mail. Naturally, I had a few reasons for being a bit skeptical, not the least of which included the fact that Bill had dated a thirteen-year-old when he was forty-seven (EW), but still, I had to know what he said about Brian, so I decided to get it anyway. As I was flipping through the pages once it’d arrived, I found the account of Brian’s second child, a daughter whom Bill called “Carol.” 

I’d probably heard about how she’d been diagnosed with temporal lobe epilepsy once or twice in the past, but for some reason, I’d refused to consider it. Reading about it this night, something clicked. Thanks to the way Bill explained, it, it seemed plausible enough that, somehow, Brian had never been diagnosed with epilepsy. After all, it can be hereditary, and mental health wasn’t understood very well back then. 

That brings me to major theory #2: Brian had a seizure in the pool the night he drowned, and given that he was alone when he died, this seemed the most likely explanation. 

After all, Brian had punctate hemorrhages in his brain when he drowned. It made sense to me, as Brian must’ve been thrashing around quite a bit in his last few moments alive (punctate hemorrhages are typically found in shaken baby syndrome)

It seemed to me at that time that I finally had an explanation for what happened to Brian Jones, but naturally, I wasn’t done with the search yet. 

Naturally, with everything I read, the search for answers continued on, even though I thought I’d had it all figured out. 

I was trying to write about it for a post I made on Amino, and as I was trying to provide some facts, I remembered that I’d found Brian’s toxicology report not long before then. Looking at it now, I observed the fact that the coroner said that the 1720 micro gms of an amphetamine-like substance found in Brian’s body was likely because of prescription Mandrax. 

Mandrax was the brand name for quaaludes. 

This brings me into major reason #3 for Brian’s decline: his own drug arrests and convictions. I explained this more in another post (https://artistjojo1228.tumblr.com/post/188166689760/rock-and-roll-storytime-6-the-rolling-stones), but I’ll give the skivvy anyway. On May 10, 1967, just as Mick and Keith were being formally charged with drug possession, Brian’s home was raided by police. Although he’d cleaned the place up, police still managed to find a bit of cannabis, and Brian and Stash were arrested. On October 30, 1967, Brian was convicted of cannabis possession and allowing his home to be used for the smoking of cannabis, and was sentenced to a grand total of 12 months in prison and a fine. Apparently, during his night at Wormwood Scrubs, the guards taunted Brian, threatening to cut off his long, blonde locks, which left him quite shaken. He appealed his case, and on December 12, Brian’s sentence was reduced to three years’ probation. 

However, not long after, on May 21, 1968, Brian’s home was raided again, and once more, police found drugs, even though some sources state that Brian was so paranoid about drugs by now, that he wouldn’t even allow friends over if they had so much as prescription pills on them. Brian was found guilty for the second time, but the judge took pity on him, and only fined him, also giving him a stern warning to not end up in court again. 

Once again, in the year 2019, it was September now. I was just starting college, and trying to survive my first semester (not easy when you’re a chronic procrastinator), and one night, while I was browsing the internet, I found Brian’s autopsy report. 

Morbid fact about me, this was far from my first time reading through death certificates and autopsy reports of celebrities. Also, I’d developed a sort of obsession with medicine after Anton Yelchin’s death (to the point where I was considering being a nurse for a while), so I was familiar with the medical jargon used by now. 

So, here we are, major theory #3 and the most likely scenario in this case: Brian, trying to get clean, had relapsed on the sleeping pills he’d been prescribed, and had become incapacitated at some point during the night. 

This wasn’t the catalyst for me believing this, but it most certainly reinforced my theories. 

As I stated earlier, quaaludes were once sold under the brand name Mandrax, and had been prescribed for such things as insomnia and anxiety, both of which Brian likely would’ve had after facing the threat of prison twice. This was also before anyone realized just how addictive quaaludes can be, so there is no doubt that Brian probably relapsed, and took one or several too many sleeping pills that night. 

And now, reason #4 for Brian’s firing from the Stones: his increasingly lacking contributions to their music. 

As time passed, Brian stopped showing up to recording sessions, and when he did show up, he was usually intoxicated to the point where he was unable to contribute. In an interview years later, Mick said that one of Brian’s last major contributions to the Stones’ music was the slide guitar on “No Expectations” from Beggars’ Banquet. It got to the point where, on Let It Bleed, Brian only played on two songs: congas on “Midnight Rambler” and autoharp on “You’ve Got the Silver”.

On neither of those songs does he contain the enormous presence he once had over the Stones’ music. 

I can’t really say why Brian stopped contributing. 

What I can say is what the final nail in the coffin was: Brian’s inability to get a work visa in the United States. 

See, by the summer of 1969, the Stones were planning on going on tour again, but as time passed, it became increasingly obvious that Brian would be unlikely to get a work visa in the United States due to his past drug convictions. 

Even then, Brian just hadn’t been in the studio long enough or sober enough to learn any of the new songs. 

At the suggestion of Ian Stewart (himself demoted unfairly from the Rolling Stones by Andrew Oldham in 1963), Mick and Keith decided they needed a new guitarist (Bill and Charlie had no part in the decision itself). By May 31, 1969, 20-year-old Mick Taylor, formerly of John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, was starting to record with the band. That just left it up to Mick and Keith to resolve the issue with Brian. On June 8, they went over to Brian’s home at Cotchford Farm in Hartfield, Sussex, and told him that he was being fired, bringing Charlie along in case a fight broke out. 

According to some sources, Brian had been expecting this would happen, and agreed to leave the band in either a temporary or permanent split. Mick and Keith left the press statement up to Brian, and possibly to save face, he made it appear as if he’d left the band on his own terms. 

I shared the statement in my post about the Altamont fiasco (https://artistjojo1228.tumblr.com/post/188181237510/rock-and-roll-storytime-8-motherfing-altamont), but I’ll write it out again for those of you who don’t want to go post-hunting: “I no longer see eye to eye with the others over the discs we are cutting. We no longer communicate musically. The Stones’ music is not to my taste any more. The work of Mick and Keith has progressed at a tangent, at least to my way of thinking. I have a desire to play my own brand of music rather than that of others, no matter how much I appreciate their musical concepts. We had a friendly meeting and agreed that an amicable termination, temporary or permanent, was the only answer. The only solution was to go our separate ways, but we shall still remain friends. I love those fellows.”

At the same time, Mick and Keith also released a press statement on the matter, also saying that Brian had left the band, not that he was fired. 

There are so many questions in my mind surrounding what Brian was doing in the last month of his life. Would he really have started another band, or was he, according some who saw him at that time, musically spent? Did Mick and Keith really agree to give Brian a sort of retirement pension, or was that just to tide him over? (Sadly I wouldn’t put it past them). Was he taking a break from music or was he going into an early retirement?

And most important to me, was he really trying to kick the drugs, like so many have said?

So many questions that we’ll never have a proper answer for. 

The only thing that is certain, is that at around midnight on July 3, 1969, Brian Jones was found motionless at the bottom of his swimming pool. 

I guess I’d better back up a bit, and explain the chain of events leading up to that moment. 

Wednesday, July 2, 1969, featured hot, humid air full of pollen, which affected Brian severely, given his asthma. Throughout the day, he was with Anna Wohlin, his Swedish girlfriend, Janet Lawson, a nurse, and Frank Thorogood, a builder who’d been doing work on Brian’s property. It is worth noting that there are many discrepancies between the witness accounts of what happened, up to and including whether or not the parties involved had been drinking (and if so, how much), whether or not the parties involved watched TV, and even who found Brian, lifeless in the pool, and who pulled him out. The most commonly agreed upon version of events was that Brian and Frank decided to go swimming. Anna was reluctant, but was somehow persuaded. Janet, meanwhile, decided to stay out of the pool. After a while, Anna left Brian and Frank there. When Janet last saw Brian, he asked her to grab one of his inhalers, as he was apparently having difficulty breathing. At some point, Frank also left the pool. When Janet returned some time later, she found him at the bottom of the pool, facedown and motionless. Apparently, she ran off to get help (despite being a registered nurse), and eventually, Anna, Frank, and Janet (or at least two of them) managed to pull Brian out of the pool and began resuscitative efforts. Anna later claimed that she felt Brian’s hand briefly grip hers, but to Janet and Frank, he was very clearly dead. Paramedics arrived soon after, and Brian was pronounced dead after midnight on July 3, 1969. 

Based on the small amounts of drugs and alcohol found in Brian’s system at the time of his death, as well as the fact that his heart and liver had been enlarged by substance abuse, his death was ruled as misadventure. 

Naturally, as it would seem whenever someone dies young, conspiracy theories also began to circulate not long after. To make this somewhat easier on myself, I’m just going to start listing some of the theories that have popped up in regards to Brian’s death (note: much of this will be taken from Brian Jones: The Making of the Rolling Stones). 

The most popular of the conspiracy theories states that Brian (who was noted as having mistrusted Frank Thorogood) fired the builder at some point in the 48 hours preceding his death (though, if that were the case, why would he invite him back for a pool party?). After Janet ran off to get Brian’s inhaler, Frank, either in a purposeful act or a bout of horseplay gone wrong, drowned Brian. Not helping Frank’s case is that Tom Keylock alleged that he heard Frank confess to the murder on his deathbed (his daughter has since denied this). Frank’s daughter, Jan Bell, did also claim that her father witnessed an argument between Brian, Mick, and Keith over ownership of the name “Rolling Stones”, during which Keith pulled a knife on Brian (if this did happen, it was likely earlier in the year). Also not helping matters is that after Frank’s death in 1994, Janet and Anna also made their beliefs that Frank was responsible for Brian’s death known (though one of Anna’s friends has since stated that she didn’t start believing Brian had been murdered until later in life). In 2005, this version of events was turned into the movie Stoned, and for those of you who may not have seen my other posts on the subject, I found this movie quite abysmal (”So, I guess you could say this movie... DROWNED on arrival?”)

In 1983, the notion that Brian was murdered first became popularized with Nicholas Fitzgerald’s book Brian Jones: The Inside Story of the Original Rolling Stone. In it, Fitzgerald claimed that Brian had been intending on starting a band with the likes of John Lennon and Jimi Hendrix (those close to Jimi at the time have since dismissed this), and that he and another friend witnessed three men participating in Brian’s murder, and that he had been threatened by someone (likely Keylock) into silence. Most likely, these allegations were used to promote his book, because, you know, there was a real chance for a while that he could’ve been charged with being an accessory to murder after the fact. 

A. E. Hotchner in his book Blown Away: The Rolling Stones and the Death of the Sixties claimed that another two witnesses had seen Brian murdered at a party. It is notable that this story claims that Linda Lawrence had been a witness, and that in the years since, one of the witnesses recanted his testimony as “nonsense.”

Another man, David Gibson, claimed that he had been fitting carpets at Cotchford Farm, and that on the day of the murder, Brian and Anna had been away for most of the day, and when they returned, Brian begged him not to leave. He alleged that Tom Keylock had Brian murdered, and that Princess Margaret had been at Cotchford Farm. Those who believe this will likely also believe that Gibson never came forward because of threats and murder attempts. 

Laura Jackson’s book, Brian Jones, The Untold Life and Mysterious Death of a Rock Legend, also claimed that Brian had been murdered, and this time added the detail that Frank had drugged Brian with a mysterious substance that stumped even seasoned toxicologists, thereby allowing him to hold Brian’s head under the water with no visible signs of a struggle. I don’t know, if it weren’t for those last couple chapters, I’d probably have an easier time recommending this to Brian Jones fans, because I thought it was pretty enjoyable otherwise. 

Geoffrey Giuliano’s book, Paint It Black, alleged that a random guy named “Joe” held Brian’s head underwater for shits and giggles. Last time I checked, that’s not really something people do for shits and giggles. Also, the book claimed that Frank had fled the scene shortly after Brian’s death, despite Frank being noted at the scene when police and paramedics arrived at the scene at 12:10 AM the morning of Brian’s death. 

In 2009, Sam Cutler claimed that private detectives hired by Allen Klein found that Tom Keylock was responsible, citing his attempts to blame Frank, his theft of some of Brian’s belongings, and the fact that he apparently told Janet to conceal the fact that she was his girlfriend at the time. However, in 2013, he expressed doubts as to whether it existed. Seems safe for me to say that this was all a big hoax. 

In general, several conspiracies center around Tom Keylock. The big problem with this though, is that Tom was in London at Olympic Studios on the night Brian died. Still, I think it is safe to say that he probably stole some of Brian’s belongings after he died, at the very least. 

I guess it’s high time I explain one of the big reasons why I always stopped myself from going down that road of believing Brian was murdered (without proper evidence). If Brian was really murdered, and if people did, indeed, witness it, then why the hell didn’t anyone say anything before 1983? I know, I know, some of the theories outright say that the people involved were threatened into silence (Anna claims she was spirited back to Sweden soon after Brian’s death), but even so, I don’t think the people making such threats would’ve had enough sway or power to actually pull off this sort of conspiracy. 

With that in mind, I believe that Brian had an overdose on sleeping pills the night he died, maybe suffering a seizure as well, either from his possible epilepsy and/or as a side-effect of taking Mandrax. Of course, unless Brian is exhumed and a second toxicology report is drawn up that can maybe confirm what was in his system on that fateful night (which is unlikely, due to both the length of time and lack of interest in the case beyond occasional murder theories), there is no way for me to confirm this theory for sure. Besides, either way, there is no way to prove whether he had epilepsy or not. Whilst it is what I believe happened, and does line up with the original verdict of misadventure, I have to keep in mind at the end of the day that this is just me speculating. 

Even so, the story of Brian Jones is one that is fraught with betrayal, hubris, and a path filled with perfectly preventable errors. It’s haunting to think what might have happened if Mick and Keith had been nicer to Brian (or at the very least spoke a bit more praise about him after his death rather than just shit-talk him all the time), or if the effects of drugs had been better understood, or if Brian hadn’t stopped contributing to the Stones’ music, or if someone had been with Brian in the pool when he became incapacitated. 

I’ll be honest, I think the reason I keep coming back to Brian’s story is because of how conflicting his life as a whole was. I’ve seen his life inspire equal parts idolization and vilification, even within myself. 

Because even if Mick and Keith would rather forget, it is my honest belief that more people will continue to find out about Brian, and my hope that they actually take the time to learn about him. 

Sources/Further Readings: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tFfzTzOwQ8&t=4s https://asthma.net/living/swimming-pools-triggers/ Stone Alone by Bill Wyman Life by Keith Richards Brian Jones: The Making of the Rolling Stones by Paul Trynka Up and Down With the Rolling Stones by Tony Sanchez https://clearcomfort.com/why-asthma-allergy-sufferers-should-avoid-chlorine-pools/ http://timeisonourside.com/chron1967.html http://timeisonourside.com/chron1969.html Brian Jones, The Untold Life and Mysterious Death of a Rock Legend by Laura Jackson https://people.com/music/anita-pallenberg-rolling-stones-keith-richards-brian-jones-love-triangle/ https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-lists/the-27-club-a-brief-history-17853/ https://ultimateclassicrock.com/brian-jones-found-dead/ https://ultimateclassicrock.com/brian-jones-murdered/ https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/just-why-was-brian-jones-so-important-to-the-rolling-stones/ https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/obituary-brian-jones-189861/ https://www.denofgeek.com/us/culture/music/281978/the-rolling-stones-and-the-mystery-of-brian-jones-death https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/brian-jones-sympathy-for-the-devil-182761/ https://www.mojo4music.com/articles/15989/brian-jones-it-was-murder http://davidcomfort.org/brian-jones/

[brokenheartedbutbeautiful]

My life story (poem) (finished)

Everyday I've had people come up to me, they always say

"you should be greatful" "Don't take your life for granted"

"You won't get another life" "Be grateful you're breathing"

"You only get one life, don't throw it away"

I am greatful, more greatful then anyone will ever know

People who are my family and closets friends know why

They know why I'm more greatful just to be alive

I'll take you back to when I was born, November 9th 2002

I was born a happy baby, with a mother and two sisters

I had a father too but he wasn't in my life, I didn't care

I just cared about the family I had, they're important then a

Dead beat dad whose name isn't on my birth certificate

You see, I was born as a normal, loving, happy, carefree kid

A kid who didn't care about pain or anguish

A kid who thought she could take on the whole world

A kid who bit off more then she could chew

By the time I was 2 and a half, a father figure had came

He did not care that me and my sisters were not his

He cared about us, he took us on, he is my step father

He's more of a father then my real dad will ever be

When I had my first heartbreak at the age of 5

I saw how hard and cruel the world really was

My staffy Rocky, taken away by some people

My first dog in this life taken away from me

By the age of 9, I felt my heart was pulled from my chest

Like someone grabbed it, made it glass and threw it

Making it smash all over concrete into glass shards

I never let anyone that wasn't my family get close to me

Before I was 12, I was bullied for a year and a half, why?

They turned my love for supernatural against me

The Twilight Saga, I got the nickname "vampire girl"

The school kicked me out, but not my tormentors?

The bullying broke me, bruised me, put me down

My self esteem went down, I wanted to commit suicide

I tried twice but I didn't go through with it

Because my family and friends came to my mind

By 12, I was diagnosed with 3 mental health issues

Asthma, Dyslexia and ADHD, but I was showing signs

Signs for 3 other issues, they would come later in my life

I was out of school for 16 months, a year and a half

I felt trapped, like a caged wolf, preparing to be shot

All I wanted to do was get out, see the world, my friends

My mental state was slowly collapsing in on it's self

I was becoming restless, I just wanted out

By the time my 13 birthday had rolled around

I went through some stuff, I shouldn't have gone through

2 weeks and 4 days, I was ripped away from my family

That experience made me realise, family is everything

By the time I was 14, I was diagnosed with Autism

I was placed in a teaching and and Learning centre

The centre was based in Battle, close to home

I was distant from everyone, a mistake I can't take back

God give me an answer because I can't take this no more

With that I cry myself to sleep, restless and shaken

The next morning I woke up, sick to my heart and soul

The next part, the sickening part, the very worst part

Is just knowing that happened to me, it made me numb

I don't feel what I felt then, I've gotten used to pain so much

I don't recall what it was like, I can't imagine what I felt

Only read it only see it, have no hope of remembering

But maybe that's a good thing

From what I've read and seen

I was completely broken and awkward

Being unable to remember the feeling

Allowed me to just read it and see it

As though it were just a regular book and movie

It's like a fresh start I know you were there

You had to suffer though it with me

You had to suffer beside me

But that was a whole other species

A species all of their own but yet like ours

Hidden in plain sight but hard to find

Waiting to be sought and found

"When you get war, you get death.

Death leaves a heartache,

no one can heal.

Love leaves a memorie,

no one can steal"

Someone told me that but I didn't listen to it

Till it was too late I was too slow

If only I listened to the wise words

I wouldn't have been hurt

March the 13th 2017, I was placed in Headstart

It was on a farm, I instantly liked with the place

It had spaces to run around, fresh air, no one judges you

I was distant from everyone at first because I was scared

As I made one friend there, I came to a realisation

I didn't have to be alone or numb ever again

I found my place, I found my home away from home

I found people that would listen to what I want to say

They listen to me and they don't judge when I finally break

I found family there, there was someone who loved me

I was shy and tried to deny my feelings for him

Because of my past experiences with love

I found out he wasn't so bad and we started dating

At first we had people try and break us apart, they failed

They failed because it just bonded us closer and closer

We faced every hurdle that was thrown at us

We started our relationship slow at first, 17 of March 2017

But as days went by, we fell more in love, it was amazing!

Everyone backed off, apart from 1 specific mewling quim

But she found out the hard way, not to get in our way

But when summer of 2019 started, things turned ugly

She tried to get between us again, almost succeeding

I finally got it through that bleached blond head of hers

That her stupid advances were majorly unwelcomed!

One day, when he went home early, I had my first one

My first mental breakdown, scars and words on my arm

I kept my arms covered, but the guilt ate away at my soul

I told my teacher Chris, he didn't like that I hid it from them

When the day ended and every student went home

Chris called my parents to let them know, I broke down

Telling them what the girl and another girl have been doing

Next day, I spent the whole morning away from them

Durning the summer, I got very bad news, I was shocked

I was being put into a temporary college, away from him

I didn't want to be away from the friends I made!

I didn't want to be away from my second home!

Over the summer, I wasn't getting better, in fact it got worse

On the 1st of August, at almost 2 in the morning

I almost joined the ones who died back in 2019

I tried committing suicide, I didn't feel anything, just numb

Like my whole body's nerve system had shut down

My nan talked to me, just as I was to take my final breath

She got me to stay alive, she mentioned everyone

Everyone that would really miss me if I had truly died

I was in and out of conciseness, I scratched at my neck

Making my neck worse because it was black and blue

They had to pin my hands to stop me, I was also shaking

I was officially diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety

Here comes the worse part, this is while I'm at the college

First full day there, I couldn't go back the next two days,

I had a Depressive episode and a panic attack that night

I was mentally and emotionally drained from having them

I've had more depressive episodes and panic attacks

While I am staying at the college, then my whole life

I've been alive for  17 years now, I've been through some shit

I wouldn't even wish any of this on my worst of enemies

[usermischief]

It's me again, sorry! So what if, Theo moves away after 4th grade. No docs, no sister death. Gets attacked by the twins' alpha, he gets away but the guy gets ganked so Theo gets to figure out werewolfing solo. Ends up hearing about a true alpha in his hometown. He returns to find a pack, instead finds Stiles struggling post nogitsune. Would Theo be content to rekindle their friendship/something more, would he go after Scott and try take the whole board or does he sit back and bide his time? TY!

Hey! So, sorry it took me a moment to reply. I struggled a bit with finishing my fic. But now I did it (hopefully, we’ll see when I’m done editing lmao) and have the time and clear mind to answer!

Okay, I think Theo would not come back to go after Scott’s power. Mostly because of how easily he didn’t care about him and instead just killed him to get rid of him. He won’t be friends with him either because with how intense Theo is working against Scott in s5a, I just get the feeling that he’s not particularly fond of Scott. However, while he’s not trying to murder Scott, he’s not exactly someone who’d step in if he’s attacked. I’m also pretty sure Theo won’t throw himself in the line of danger when it comes to someone other than Stiles. I mean, he called Lydia collateral damage & drove her out of her mind, killed Scott, locked up & shot Malia, saved Liam & Hayden because he knew it would get him on everyone’s good side, and crept on Kira, and yet saved/helped Stiles by risking his own life (and we also know he was right there when the whole Donovan thing went down because he actually planned on saving Stiles’ ass). 

Sure, we could argue that Theo only did it because the Dread Doctors severely fucked him up. But we have to take something into account these science punks told us about Theo.

Surgeon: But your failure taught us one thing. The banality of evil. That you were and would always be an ordinary evil. 

Theo: You think I'm ordinary? 

Surgeon: We believed that to resurrect the perfect killer we had to start with the perfect evil. 

(5x19)

So, from that, we know that Theo has been damaged before and they only tipped the scale from bad boy to murder boy. I also don’t doubt that Theo’s desire to be the best, to prove himself, to need constant validation comes from his sister & parents. I don’t know how old his sister is (seeing that she’s played by two different actresses) but she seems to be a few years older than him. I guess maybe four to five. My sister is 6 years older than me and although I can only speak for myself (& my best friend whose brother is 6 years older) that it gave me all those character streaks. I became competitive, I wanted validation from my parents and I wanted to be better than my sister. Because she did everything before me & she was allowed more & she hung out with her own friends making me think she doesn’t like me all that much (which wasn’t true. She smuggled me into clubs when I was fifteen & we constantly slept in the same bed after movie nights lmao). I still sometimes resented her. 

Theo probably never had that. His sister was a straight A student (”She was smarter than everyone else too” Theo, 5x07) and Theo was ‘just’ a good student. He had asthma (”In fourth grade, you had an inhaler, I had one too. I remember this day where I ended up in the nurse's office with an asthma attack. A bad one.” Theo, 5x02), so he couldn’t prove himself in sports either - because his body couldn’t keep up with him. Until he got bit, of course. And since Theo is - as established above - trying his hardest to be the best at everything, he worked through the whole shifting bullshit and problems with control by himself. 

He also turned the hierarchy in his family upside down. You can bet your ass that Theo made sure his parents danced to his tune. After ignoring his wishes and needs for so long, he makes sure they are moving back to Beacon Hills ASAP. 

The second he’s back, he seeks them out. Because he wants to see Stiles again, who was the only person who he considers a friend. You know, they were in Little League together, were in the same grade & Stiles used to be a person who befriends everyone easily - before puberty hit, before his mother died, before he had to cut off a lot of friends because of the supernatural. So, Theo and he were friends but it was always awkward because Scott & Theo were polar opposites. Scott is soft and nice and always polite. Theo is angry and violent and always rude to people who piss him off. He probably beat someone up who insulted Stiles because of his ADHD. 

Stiles is different after everything that has happened, and he totally distrusts Theo. That hasn’t changed. Theo also still works on destroying Stiles and Scott’s friendship. Not because he wants Scott’s power but because he resents Scott - probably for two reasons: he was allowed to keep Stiles and he reminds Theo of his sister. Golden Girl & Golden Boy. He just wants them to eat dirt. Without the Dread Doctors breathing down his neck, tho, he has a lot more time to play them. I’m pretty sure he never actually makes a move to become part of the pack & just kind of hangs around, mostly where Stiles is. Maybe he joins the Lacrosse team (since there isn’t a football team in Beacon Hills lmao) now that he can finally play sports without having an asthma attack. 

Theo is patiently working his way towards his goal - and we all know Stiles is totally going to fall for him somewhere along the line. I’m also pretty sure Theo & Lydia will become good friends because they both bond over fashion and judging other people. Malia & Scott probably don’t like him seeing that Theo came to town to steal their boy. Mason might have a lil’ crush on him and Liam will have Brett Talbot flashbacks. 

But yeah, I don’t think Theo would’ve become the murder nugget he is after suffering the Dread Doctors for years on end, but I do think his interest in Stiles would be the same because he’s always been different around him in canon. 

[loreweaver-universe]

All right, all right, people are started to get annoyed rather than laughing, so let’s cut this short.  Here’s the story of how my mom accidentally poisoned me!

So I have asthma.  This went undiagnosed until I enlisted in the Air Force in 2007 and subsequently passed out in formation less than a week in.  (It went undiagnosed, interestingly, because in the words of the Air Force medic who tested me, I have the lung capacity of a lifelong wind instrument player or long-distance runner--so it all muddled out to slightly worse than average, and we thought I just got winded easily.  Nope!  I’m a weird mutant whose weird mutation just doesn’t work.  Go figure.)  People with asthma, it turns out, are quite often allergic to aspirin--something I didn’t take once in my entire runup to my twenties.

The first time I took an aspirin, because I’d run out of ibuprofen (the stuff in Advil) and decided to try something else, I just kinda wheezed a little and didn’t think much of it.

The second time I took aspirin, it was worse, and I realized I was having some kind of weird reaction, so I stopped taking it.  Then I found out I was allergic because asthma, went to the store, bought a five hundred pill candybottle of ibuprofen, put it on my shelf, and didn’t have another headache for four months.

The next time I had a headache, the ibuprofen gave me a pretty rough asthma attack.  Because!  Guess what!  There’s a whole class of what’s called Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs, or NSAIDs, that are perfectly fine for asthmatic people to take...until they trigger their aspirin allergy.

After that, they’re poison.

At this point, I do a bunch of research and discover that nearly every over-the-counter painkiller available to me is ibuprofen-based.  The stuff that I’m told is safe for me to take is acetaminophen, the stuff in Tylenol.  Half the acetaminophen-based painkillers out there have ibuprofen in them, too.  It’s a nightmare finding stuff safe for me to take, and around this time my sinus polyps are really getting going and I’m suffering daily pressure headaches which is a whole other ball of fun let me tell you.  So I get in the habit of buying 500-pill candybottles of generic 500mg Tylenol tablets, keep a general eye out for safety’s sake, and otherwise largely leave the whole thing on the shelf.

I make it to my second year of college without another incident.

Spring of 2014, my mother’s in Bangor, picking me up so we can have dinner out, and I complain about headaches when I get in the car.  (I had surgery to remove the sinus polyps!  They’re growing back by this point.)  She hems and haws, because she has a couple Aleve in a plastic baggie that she keeps around for her personal painkilling needs, and she can’t remember whether they’re ibuprofen or not.  We look it up--there’s no ibuprofen or aspirin in it, hooray!  It’s got something called naproxen sodium instead.

At this point, we aren’t aware that acetaminophen isn’t just safe for me to take, it’s the only safe painkiller for me to take.  Naproxen sodium is another NSAID, and I’m in for a rough night, because I pop that sucker in my mouth like it’s the cure for nose cancer and we head off to Chili’s to try them out for dinner.

I’m pretty much okay when we walk in the door.  We order appetizers--I get a little dish with soft pretzel sticks in it--and we get to chatting about life.  As the conversation goes on, I get a little coughy, and a little snotty, and then I have to excuse myself to the bathroom a few times to blow my nose, because at this point my respiratory system is trying to strangle itself.  The pretzel sticks come and I’m starting to wheeze, but I barely care because I tried one of those bastards and they were goddamn incredible.  My mother starts to get scared, despite my insistence that this has happened before, and she and I eventually get up to leave because she wants to drive me to the emergency room.  While she’s apologizing to the restaurant manager (who insists on turning down her offer to pay for the food we ordered), I dash back to the table and grab the five remaining pretzel sticks, because screw leaving those behind.

So begins the most memorable car ride of my entire life.

Mom’s driving through downtown Bangor, starting to panic, because at this point I am audibly choking on my own throat, but I’m on cloud nine because these god damn pretzel sticks, man, holy shit.  I’m snarfing them down, and babbling about how good they are--and anyone who’s spent any amount of time around my mother and I at the same time knows my absolute favorite game is making her laugh--and generally doing my best (somewhat on purpose, even) to distract her from the fact that her son is suffocating in the passenger’s seat.  She, meanwhile, is doing her damnedest not to swerve off the road, because she’s alternating between hysterical tears of terror and hysterical tears of laughter.  She rolls down the window so I can get some fresh air, and I alternate between gulping down oxygen and suffocating myself with pretzel sticks because why are these so goddamn good.

Mom’s losing her shit laughing when we pull up to the hospital, and I’m red-faced, pretzel-less, and starting to slow down, so she pulls up to the ambulance door and runs inside.  After being directed by a very annoyed desk clerk to pull around the side, we go inside, and while I make a few more half-hearted efforts to tell jokes, I spend most of the rest of my wait red-faced and desperately dragging breaths through my closing windpipe.  I’m in a bad way, guys.  Mom finally gets them to bring me in ahead of some people who aren’t suffocating to death, and they pump me full of some kind of Benadryl cocktail, which makes me loopy and high and sleepy.  I spend a few hours drifting in and out of consciousness, high off my ass (and boy howdy do I hate being high) and at one point, because I’m in no state of mind to do social math, I tease Mom about getting me that Dave Strider figurine I wanted.  Then i go back to sleep.

Eventually, I’m good to go.  I get sent off with some information about my condition, plus the knowledge that this particular allergic reaction gets worse every time it happens.  The next time it happens, I may die before I get to the hospital.  Mom takes me to a pharmacy, buys me a pair of epi-pens I never wind up needing because I get religious about being careful what I put in my mouth (I still have ‘em, because I’m not throwing away three h u n d r e d dollars of medicine, what the hell is wrong with you) and...well, honestly, the night past that point is a bit of a blur, because I’m loopy from the meds and just had a near-death experience.

A couple weeks later, though, I got a surprise in the mail!

This is Dave Strider!  I almost died to get him.  Literally!

To this day, Mom and I tease each other about how she spent my entire childhood not murdering my insufferable mug, only to almost kill me by accident once I was out of her hair.  I’ve been sending her screenshots of your reblogs and tags and discord messages and she has been laughing her ass off.

So, I’m sorry I strung you all along for that long, but I did say my favorite game was making my mother laugh.

[waif-of-the-night]

Death Takes A Holiday

Part 2

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Rewrite Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: I recently added an ‘ask away’ tab to my account so go ahead and ask me anything. I’ll be more than happy to answer!

You woke up with a throbbing pain in your head and a concerned Dean sitting by your side. You looked around the familiar motel room while you sat up straight watching as Sam entered the room asking if you were alright. “I’m fine. Might have a concussion.” You whispered. He offered some aspirin but you passed on them. “So, demons, huh?” you clutched your head as you rose from the bed and sat on the edge. “So much for miracles.” Dean scoffed from behind you. “Wait, what happened with Alastair?” you asked, not remembering how you three got away. “Yeah, what did happen back there?” Dean repeated, as much confused as you. Sam sighed at his brother, “I told you, he tried to fling me or whatever and it didn’t work so he bailed.” Dean expressed his suspicion for why Alastair couldn’t fling him. “He chucked you pretty good last time.” He raised a suspicion . “Got no idea.” Sam answered and turned to whatever he was doing but was interrupted by Dean, “Sam, do me a favour. If you’re gonna keep your little secrets, I can’t really stop you. But just don’t treat me like an idiot okay?” Your stare alternated between the two men and you mentally decided to stay out of this. “What? Dean, I’m not keeping any secrets.” Sam replied. Dean just stared at him for a second then muttered a ‘whatever’, letting the topic go. “So did you go back to q-and-a the dead kid?” “Didn’t have to.” The younger brother answered as he lifted his notebook from the table, “Bobby did some digging.” “What’d he find?” you asked as he took a seat before you. “He thinks you’re right.” He said to you, “Local reaper’s gone. Not just gone—kidnapped.” “By demons? Why?” Dean uttered. You shared the same question when Sam asked the two of you to listen to what he read from the notebook. “And he bloodied death under the newborn sky – sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured.” “What does that even mean?” your eyebrows knotted in confusion. “Well, it’s from a very rare, very obscure version...of revelations.” Sam closed his notebook. “Which means what I think it means?” Dean raised a doubt. “Basically, if you kill a reaper under the solstice moon—tomorrow night by the way – you got yourself a broken seal.” He explained and you immediately asked, “But how do you ice a reaper? You can’t kill death.” “I don’t know. Maybe demons can.” Sam replied which got the three of you wondering where the hell angels were in all this. “Well, looks like we’re gonna have to take care of this one ourselves.” Dean sighed. “But what are we gonna do? Just swing in and save the friendly neighbourhood reaper?” Sam huffed. To even think of doing this seemed farfetched but it wasn’t like any of you had a better idea than Dean’s. “But reapers are invisible. The only people who can see them are the dead and the dying.” “Well,” you chimed in with an idea, “If ghosts are the only ones that can see them... then we become ghosts.” You noticed both of their faces, conveying the same expressions of amusement, to which you replied in a small side smile. “You do have a concussion.” Sam declared. “It sounds crazy, I know—” you were stopped before you completed. “It is crazy.” Dean emphasised but looked like he was on board, “How?” Your smile widened when you realised that the both of them were ready to go through your crazy idea. -------- Shortly after you had told them what you had in mind, Dean left to get Pamela, leaving you with Sam. You kept yourself busy with research but Sam had seen you all day and knew that something was obviously going on. He had told Dean that it was because of what happened with the siren but he couldn’t have been sure without asking, so he decided to get sure. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he took a seat near you at the small motel table, taking you a little by surprise. “Of course.” You muttered, without making any eye contact which made it clear to him that it wasn’t. He shut the laptop slowly and put it away so your eyes finally met his. “(y/n), I’ve been watching you all day. There’s something off, I can tell.” “Its...” you whispered, for once wanting to ask him more about what happened earlier, about what you heard in the diner, but instead shook your head and muttered, “It’s nothing.” “Look, you’ve listened to me and been there for me when I’ve needed it, so just...know that you can talk to me.” He had the softest eyes you had seen anyone have and you just didn’t have it in you to lie to him, so you talked. “It’s just...” a sigh left your mouth as you tried to find the words to explain what was going on within your head, “everything. It’s like everyone around me knows things that I don’t, things about me—like Alastair.” “What about him?” “He said he was surprised to see me helping an angel, almost like he knew something about me that I don’t. He knew my name even when I had never met him before. And Cas...” “Cas? What did he say?” “He didn’t...he didn’t say anything but ever since he’s met me, he looks at me with these soft eyes, like I’m gonna break and I know that he knows something. I’m just...I’m sick of people keeping these secrets.” Your eyes finally landed on his again while his never left you. He wanted to comfort you but didn’t know what to say so he just held your hand firmly, telling you that he was there for you in this. You gave him a sad smile but before any of you could say anything more; Dean entered the room with Pamela. “Alright, which one of you geniuses came up with astral projection?” was the first thing she said to the three of you. You and Sam rose up from where you sat to welcome her. You three and Pamela had argued for a good fifteen minute or so before she finally agreed to help you with the projection out of moral obligation towards saving the world. Soon she started setting you three up for the thing and chanted a series of words in your ears while you three lay on your back with your eyes closed. When she was done, you opened your eyes and sat up, feeling no change and thinking that the projection didn’t work till you looked back at your body laying on the bed, eyes closed. You turned towards your side to see the same happened with the boys, meaning that Pamela was successful and now you three were officially ghosts. Without wasting much time, you headed outside to find the reaper. Dean and Sam walked beside you when a woman approaching towards you from your right jogged right through Dean, unfazed. “That was wild.” He grinned at you and Sam before impulsively shoving his hand through Sam, earning a bitch face from him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked to which his brother’s only reply was, “Get out of me.” You rolled your eyes at the two of them and walked past them as they followed behind. You three scouted the town for hours but couldn’t find anything even slightly demon-y. You were almost done with it when Sam noticed something in a house window to your left. “Hey, hey, 3 o’clock.” He nudged you and Dean to look at the window. “Kid in the window.” He cleared as the two of you noticed, “Am I crazy or is he looking at us?” “It’s cause we’ve seen him before.” you answered. “In the newspaper. Cole Griffith, the last person to die in this town.” As you completed your sentence, the kid disappeared from the window. You and the boys took this as your cue to go in and investigate the house. You followed the boys towards the room who’s window the kid had been looking out of, but before you could enter, you saw a woman running out of the room and then a ball thrown to your direction. “Stop!” Dean shouted at the kid, or more specifically, the kid’s ghost, who was throwing the balls. “How are you doing that?” “Who are you?” Cole asked the three of you, his voice sounded scared so you decided to calm him first. “Relax, Cole. It’s okay.” You said to him. “How do you know my name?” he questioned you. “Look,” Sam took a cautious step forward, “this isn’t gonna be easy to hear, but, you’re dead. You’re a spirit, us too.” “Yeah, thanks haley joel. I know I’m dead.” The kid scoffed. “What do you want?” You told him that you just wanted to talk so naturally his next question was what you wanted to talk about. The kid led you to the dining hall where you and the boys sat with him while he told you how he died and became a ghost. The cold air caused an asthma attack. He said that when he died, a creepy old dude in a black suit came for him and asked him to go with him. You and the boys understood that that must’ve been the reaper. And then he told how the black smoke entered and got rid of the reaper. Cole didn’t know where the black smoke went, but he did know where it was. You were just about to ask him where, when the lights in the house started flickering and a fearful Cole whispered, “They’re back.” And disappeared before your eyes. You felt a thick gust of wind enter when Sam muttered, “Another reaper.” And followed it to the stairs as you and Dean did the same. “Hey! Hey! Wait! We need to talk to you!” Dean yelled at the reaper before a young dark haired woman walked down the stairs in front of you. She instantly recognized Dean and repeated his name but Dean didn’t seem to remember her. A brief conversation led you to know that Dean had died once before he went to hell and this was the reaper who came for him at that time. Her name was Tessa. Tessa was adamant at reaping Cole’s soul but somehow you and Dean managed to persuade her from reaping until you had found Alastair and solved whatever the hell was going on. She agreed but she warned that whenever she starts reaping again, she will start with the kid. Sam said he’ll go talk to Cole to get him to tell where the smoke was. “Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Your words made Sam stop in his tracks and turn back to you, “What are you going to say to him?” “Whatever I have to.” Was all he answered before he was gone to find him. You offered to keep a look out for demons or any threats while Sam was talking to the kid, leaving Dean alone with the reaper Tessa. “Where did you find her?” Tessa asked Dean as she folded her arms and bobbed her head in your direction, making it clear to him who she was referring to. “That’s (y/n),” Dean answered as his gaze momentarily shifted to where you stood near the doorway, “She’s a friend, a hunter.” An eyebrow raised on Tessa’s face before she let her arms hand loose, “A piece of advice, seeing how we go way back, stay away from that girl Dean.” “What? Why would you say that?” “I’m a reaper Dean, I see souls. So, trust me when I say it’s for your own good that you stay away from her.” “Yeah I get that you see souls,” Dean answered in hushed tones, “but what do you see, that’s what I want to know. What is so different about her? What is she?” “I don’t know.” Tessa replied coldly. “I don’t know what she is, but let me explain something else. Human souls are one of the most powerful sources of energy in this universe but as you know, humans cannot channel that raw power. Now, imagine a human who can.” Dean wasn’t sure what that even meant for you, or for them but before he could ask more from her, Sam entered with Cole and you joined too. “Tell them what you told me.” Sam said to Cole. Tessa said hi to him and assured him that she wasn’t going to hurt him before he finally spoke. “I saw the black smoke at my funeral.” He spoke up. “At the cemetery?” You questioned. “At the funeral home. It was everywhere.” It didn’t take a minute after the words left him mouth that the lights started flickering again. Dean asked Tessa if this was her doing but she denied and before anyone could think, thick black smoke flooded the house making it impossible for anyone to see anything. The smoke cleared in a minute but Tessa was gone along with it. It was clear to you lot that you couldn’t face this the way you were. So you decided you were going to learn ghost methods of fighting from Cole before stepping into the funeral home.

forever tags: @roonyxx @jessikared97 @itslizabitch8021 

[thoughtfulpaperback]

Rant...on depression and toxic relationships

Ok so no one said anything or did anything in particular that made me want to rant, rather this is something that's been on my mind for a while and I sort of needed to vent especially after these last crappy 3 years.

So just a lot of background in 2017 my younger brother died in an accident. Everyone handles grief differently, I didn't handle mine at all. I arranged his funeral and picked his headstone and casket, I finished my last semester of college and got my degree, and helped start a scholarship in his memory, I became the speaker and awarder of another scholarship in his memory started by a non-profit, I started some masters classes over the summer online, got ready to move from a small rural idahoan town to Portland, Oregon, and supported my siblings as they grieved. My mom and grandparents (paternal) took it the hardest and I made sure I was there for them as much as possible.

Once I moved aand started school, while i loved the independence i had and I fell in love with the city, I struggled hard. It started off great and I was doing so well the first semester, then I was having trouble sleeping. I was staying up later and later until it got to the point were I wasnt sleeping at all. I would get the urge to pace around and do quick strides across the room and then hop back in bed. Then I lost my appetite, just wasnt hungry, then i lost my ability to tell when i was full or not. I wasnt hungry but i knew i had to eat so i would eat but just keep eating until i realized that i probably should stop after eating an entire pizza by myself or a whole Costco cheesecake (what the hell I wasnt even hungry?!?!). Then I started having anxiety problems, i would try to read for class or right a paper and my mind couldnt focus or think I couldnt write or remember the sentence I just reread four times. I'd get so angry and upset with myself that I would stay to throw up. And I couldn't stop. It got so bad that so much as looking at a book or opening my laptop would have me running to the bathroom. That's when I started isolating myself from the friend as i made there. I couldnt go out because I need to do school work (which never got done) and I would just spend the day crying in front of my laptop frustrated with myself and vomiting non stop. Then I became apathetic. I went from this organized strong focused lady who could finish college plan a funeral and make time to talk and care for her family and brother's grieving friends, to this lonely pathetic sick crybaby who didnt even want to talk on the phone with her grandma (how I saw myself at the time). I didnt want to go to class which I was loving at first. Then I actually started missing classes because I couldnt even get out of bed. But I wanted to I would spend hour in bed internally yelling at myself to get up, but it felt like the rest of me didnt want to listen and I started to hate myself for it. Then the suicidal ideations began. It was so subtle and harmless at first. I didnt want to talk to people but staying at home wasnt enough because they can come find me or call or whatever. But no one can interrupts you in the shower. So I started taking long showers. It was only once a day. Then it became twice a day. Then three. Showers turned into baths(which I hated as a until then) and pretty soon I was spending the whole day in the bathroom thinking about how much I just wanted to disappear. Just wanting to be left alone in the tub and never come out again. I didnt it think it was bad, but when I told my friend (who was seriously concerned at my avoidance of her and missing classes) she did think it was bad. I started going to a counselor and eventually started taking medication for sleep and depression (which was later switched to medication for PTSD). I finished the year and did well thanks to the support of my cohort and professors. Then my cousin died and I came back home to take care of my family. I took the year off. And in this year my aunt died, another cousin and this three sons were in a terrible accident which killed three of them and left one with permanent brain damage, and my mother left.

My mother leaving is kind of a big one because this isnt the first time. I just want to say that I love my mother and she has never physically or verbally abused me. But she is toxic as hell. She never grew up. Eloped at 18 to get out of an abusive household, had me at 19 and then my brother at 20, then my father died, she took care of us with the help of my grandparents for a while, then she took off for California with some guy and left me and my brother until her parents made her come back. Then she had my other brother. She was good for a couple of years and then had an affair and took off with some one for a couple of months, she came back. Then she had my sister, miscarried 2 times, and eventually had my baby brother (now 7). And she was mostly doing good, of course I was a co-parent, i took thier schooling and safety more seriously than my mom. If it wasnt for my grandparents, my brother and I wouldnt have had childhoods. He was my partner co-parent, but at my dads parents he was just my brother and best friend. My mom loves us but she is selfish. So I always tried to be selfless, but I also tried to give her the benefit of the doubt because she always comes back. She never apologizes or acknowledges what she had done she just comes back. It never bothered me before I just thought "well this is how she is and I mean she loves me and comes back, she isnt abusive so I cant complain".

Well she left in March and while my other brother and I had been through this and were just kind of indifferent to it. My sister was devastated and my little brother and his routine were messed up. My step dad was an angry mess and so I took care of them all and tried to be the adult (I mean I am an adult right?). I informed him of his rights and options such as divorce. He said he wanted to and I said I could help him with the papers. But I mean I figured she'd come back and i told my sister this over and over again. But honestly i was starting to become less indifferent as I watched what this was doing to her 16yr old psyche and how much it was hurting my brother especially because he didnt seem to understand what was going on.

She came back the beginning of this month after two weeks of coming back to the home to try to take her stuff, fighting with my stepdad, trying to take my little brother (not my sister which also hurt her feelings) and then stealing money from my brother.

And the thing is yall, I was ready and willing to just accept that and just do what we always do and pretend that it didnt happen even though for the first time (I was angry about it because of how much my siblings were hurting). But the thing is, my mother wont talk to me or look me in the eye. She came back and I tried to say high and give her a hug and she just avoided me. Which I was like ok fine you are in a mood let me know when that is over. Then my brother got into an accident (not fatal or serious thank God). She could have called me to let me know, to asked me to pick up the kids, to let me calmly inform them. She did not. She called my sister in a panic to tell her that my brother was in a bad accident (it wasn't) and they were looking for him and for her to find a ride home with a friend. This of course sent my sister into a panic attack she didnt know what to do or even if anyone had picked up our little brother. So she did what all of my siblings do when they are scared, in danger, or completely unaware of what they should do: She called me.

I calmed her down I told her to get on the bus and I'd stay on the phone with her. I had my grandma call the police department to see if they knew of the accident and could give information that would help me locate my brother (they couldnt) and had her call the school to see if anyone had picked up my brother (my stepdad had). I stayed on the phone with her as my grandpa drove me to the house to go get her because I didnt want her to be alone.

When I got there my mom and step dad had just arrived with my brother's (my brother had a panic attack at the wheel and went off the road into a field. No one was harmed but the policeman on duty saw it and my brother was taken to the nearest hospital because he hadn't calmed down and was having trouble breathing (he also has asthma). I get there check on him and my other siblings, we have a group hug (corny, but after losing our brother in a car accident previosly, we all were freaked and needed one). And my stepdad came up to me and thanked me for coming down to check on everyone. My mom rushed inside. I followed and she started putting pot and pans on the stove and didnt look at me. I said hi. She didn't turn around but said hey. I started to tell her what she should have my brother take for his nerves (old wives tale stuff but like in my mind it works so I am going to suggest it ok). Never looks at me. Or acknowledges what I am saying. Some I tell my stepdad. Look my siblings over one last time and head back to my grandparents house. On the way back I realize that she had no intention of calling me. She thought my brother had been in a bad accident, and she was not going to call me. I am the one who had to come tell her about my brother passing away. I left my grandparents crying and screaming (calling a bunch of people to go over there and be with them of course) to tell my mom about it before she heard it somewhere else. And she wasnt going to tell me that my brother was possibly hurt or worse. She rather let my teenage sister panic and try to find a way home by herself than to call me.

That hurt, but I was willing to let that go. I never speak ill of my mom to my siblings or to anyone in general. After everything I still couldnt because she is my mom and she came back and I know she loves me.

The she had my sister call me a couple of days ago to tell me she was dropping of my brother because he didnt have school and she was going to a job interview. Didnt tell me how long I'd be watching him (I asked and my sister said she didnt know). So I just figured I'd ask my mom when she dropped him off. I was waiting at the door for him and she practically made him tuck and role out of the car. She never got out never looked at me and my poor baby didnt have his shoes on the right feet or tied. I Had plans, canceled them because I didnt know how long he'd be staying (wasnt long). And she had my sister call (while she was in school) to tell me that she was outside when she came to pick him up. My brother was upset because he (while she was gone) became accustomed to being dropped off and left with me the whole day or weekend. So it was a fight to get his shoes on and him out the door. Again never looked me. I smiled and waved tried to get her attention. Nope. She didn't even get out of the car to open the door for him. He managed to get it just as I was about to go over and help.

I texted her happy mother's day. Nothing. I tried calling her to say it. No answer. Called my siblings to have them tell her I said it in case she didnt see the text. Nada.

I dont know what I did. What I do know is that I dont deserve to be treated this way. I never did. And that is actually super hard to admit because when we think of abusive and toxic, I wouldnt immediately think of my mother because even though she does things that hurt us, refuses to acknowledge it, expects us to take care of her and respect her time when she doesnt have any consideration for our time and property, she is my mother who loves me. She is the same mother who took us to pizza hut on Saturdays, to the pool and water park during the summer, who bought us Christmas presents, and who we have had good times with.

But she is toxic. she is emotionally manipulative and inconsiderate. I've made excuses and even blamed myself. Maybe I wasn't trying to communicated enough, maybe I made her feel unloved, maybe I am being sensitive since my history with depression and all that stuff. Maybe I am just misreading. Because it has to me, because she loves me so I must be at fault if she isnt talking to me.

But honestly, I am tired of blaming me. I am tired of being the adult in this relationship. I already have my personal issues. My future is pretty unclear as I try to decide if I want to go back to school (my grandparents are pressuring me just to get a job and stick around idaho), or if I still even want my Master's or If I want to do something else completely. Except for when I am watching TV or with my siblings and dog I am pretty much unhappy and confused all the time.

This year was supposed to be about self-care and healing. Not drama. I am just done.

I dont know what to expect into the coming year (in academic years not the year beginning in January) but I am done with self hate and I am done with toxic relationships. I probably cant take another year off without at least finding a job. But I don't think I am ready to go back to school (I miss it so much though), this break has felt more like work even with the fun tumblr convos.

Honestly thanks to the Charmed and Fallen Hero Fandoms because without y'all I dont know how I would have made it through all this. Also thank God for Hacy fanfiction because I needed good reading material in hospital waiting rooms, and in my moments alone to keep me from over contemplating on people who dont deserve it.

[thedailyanthill]

Mask-holes and vax-holes

I just absolutely do not get these people who are so rabidly anti-mask and anti-vax.

It’s been 100 years since our last pandemic and with all of our technology more people have died during our still ongoing Covid pandemic. That’s just mind boggling.

There were anti- maskers then too, but when things got really out of control the government stepped in and non compliant people went to jail. Now we kowtow to these people who piss and moan about their freedoms…

And yet not one person has explained to me exactly what freedom is lost by wearing a mask. Clearly you can still say and do stupid shit like having tantrums in public places. You can have sex with your masks on, go to work and school, play sports… you can see why I’m confused here.

When I was hospitalized last October for two and a half weeks (not virus related) I wore masks almost 24/7 as did all the staff. It didn’t interfere with my treatments. I was still “free” to watch tv and walk around.

I went to a medieval Faire and had my mask on throughout the day as needed- around a young man who was fighting cancer and a girl with juvenile diabetes. Putting my mask on did not hamper my enjoyment of the day in any way. Sure it got hot and stuffy a few times but I dealt with it. People were really good about respecting people’s requests and decisions.

So I ask again about what freedoms have been lost?

And what about people’s freedoms to stay healthy, to not get sick? Why is that less important than a person’s freedoms to be an asshole?

A lot of these temper tantrums throwing Karens are doing this to own the libs. If those freedom stomping government socialists say wear a mask, we’ll let them just try to make me!!

There are people with conditions that make wearing a mask for a long period of time difficult. And a few religious groups who won’t wear them (our neighbors are Orthodox Jews and they don’t wear masks). But it’s not those minorities I’m talking about.

And to the morons who say masks don’t work- they’re not infallible but hey a 95% protection rate is pretty decent. I mean condoms fail too occasionally yet people still wear them.

I have asthma and in the 18 months of the pandemic I have not had a major asthma attack. I had two minor colds. I kinda like that.

Ask for this nonsense about vaccines - people used to be glad and grateful for vaccines. People lined up for blocks to get the polio vaccine because polio is a hideous disease. Grateful for the smallpox vaccine. I’m happy my kid never had to get chicken pox, measles, mumps or whooping cough.

Where did all this idiocy come from. I mean I know our education system is horrible but it’s more than just not knowing or understanding. It’s partly a political move, again to own the libs.

But it’s literally killing people. I know two men who were both anti-vax and anti-mask and they are both dead. Tragic because it could have been prevented.

Empathy is a foreign concept these days and people with compassion are seen as weak. We’ve learned that even the CDC is cool with people who have comorbidities (preexisting conditions) dying. Sacrifice the weak!

And to those people who refuse to take the vaccine because they don’t know what’s in it - heck I don’t what’s in any vaccine or specific medication. But if my doc says take x pill so I don’t have another stroke I’m going to take it.

Until we get this insanity under control we’re never getting rid of Covid. And we should all be mad at the fools who are making this so. Grrr.

[birdscreeches]

Breathing Exercises || Aisha R.

My father had given my siblings and I his asthma. Not on purpose, sure, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that now we had to live through the curse. Childhoods were bright with afternoon sun and asphalt dust, but at the end of the day it was a room of wheezes, inhalers, and nebulizers.

I remember sitting with my younger sister in my grandparents’ room. We watched TV with the volume up real high so we could hear the cartoons over the loud buzz of the nebulizer. When she’d laugh, the vapor pouring from the mask strapped on her face would puff out in billows like a dragon. When it was my turn, I blew air out, like a silent kind of whistle, and watched the mist spill out while I wheezed from the exertion. I didn’t feel like a dragon so much as completely breathless and disappointed. Even more so when I got scolded for wasting the mist I was supposed to be breathing in and given a mouthpiece attachment in what I assumed was punishment. Back then, I hated the thing, but if I could go back, I’d tell seven-year-old-me, come on, dude. You deserved it. I deserved it. We both did, didn’t we?

The neat thing about the asthma was that when we reached a certain age, it disappeared. My siblings and  I grew out of it. We grew a little taller, a little smarter, a little stronger. We grew up and mastered the art of pushing air in out of our lungs, unaided and unassisted. It was almost as if our bodies were telling us that it was kid stuff, really, to have trouble breathing. When my siblings reached twelve, the inhales and exhales were steady and sure.

When I was twelve, my breathing just got worse. My breaths were quiet and shallow. Not so much a rise and fall of my ribs but instead miniscule shifts every half seconds. I refused to take deep breaths, afraid that maybe, I’d rip at the seams. My asthma attacks got worse. They seemed to go past my lungs, now also tremors in my hands and the pounding in my chest and the buzzing in my head. I found my asthma in moments where I couldn’t stand people looking at me, or when the noisy classroom got too loud and so I banged my head against my desk once, twice, thrice, four times in quick succession, again, then again, or when the jacket I always wore for comfort now hid scratch marks and welts I gave myself to shut up the noises that followed from school and now lived in my mind, jeering and heckling constantly.

I called it all asthma until I learned what an anxiety disorder was a year later.

An anxiety disorder is a whole lot of things, but over the years, I’ve cultivated my own metaphor that I used for myself. It goes like this: in every person’s head, there’s the fear dial. You can turn it to tick from the numbers zero to ten. There’s an employee who lives in your head and it will turn the dial when danger is present. Maybe a two for when you drop your phone. A five for sound in the dark. A nine for a shadowy figure in the corner of your eye as you’re commuting home. The dial is important. It’s supposed to be there. Fear keeps us alive. It triggers the fight or flight response, releases hormones that promote fast reactions, and other things that makes me think of gazelles running from cheetahs while David Attenborough’s voice croons in the background.

“A second is all it takes between life or death,” Imaginary David Attenborough says. The gazelle makes a mistake, and claws sink into its thigh. Or the gazelle escapes and lives to prance another day. The gazelle needs fear to run as fast as it does, and we need fear too.

Anxiety is what happens when the employee in your head dies from a heart attack, or something. With its final breath, it scrambles for purchase, grabbing the dial and turning it, one, two, three, ten, past that to a section under it labeled You’re Gonna Die.

I’m now essentially Always About To Die at any given moment. The fear is a constant thrum under my skin with everything I do, and since humans can’t exactly be screaming twenty four seven, it manifests in things like paranoia and over thinking. When I can hear my head past the shallow wheezes of my lungs, I hear the constant litany in my head. Every day, it plays like a PA system in grocery store. Calm, cool, and as a matter of fact, it goes: you’re walking weird you need to fix that because you’re doing it wrong no you can’t eat in front of people they’re all watching you and you’re being greedy you’re not very smart are you you’re not very good at anything really are you you need to leave you need to be gone you need to be quiet everybody is speaking you need to speak louder speak softer speak slower speak faster you need to go to sleep you’re not needed right now go to sleep go to sleep. Good night. Insert grocery theme song here. A part of me knew the words were either wrong or magnifying small things into huge things, but logic didn’t mesh with anxiety. There’s dissonance and then there’s a disconnect. What I knew refused to make amends with what I felt. Here I am in my grocery aisle, screaming at a speaker in the corner. “You’re wrong, I know you’re wrong.” I say.

All the PA says, calm, cool, and as a matter of fact, is, Good morning shopper, did you really have to wake up today or are you just being greedy?

Greed was a word my anxiety loved to throw at me. An intense, selfish desire. Growing up in a Catholic school, greed was taught to me as one of the seven cardinal sins, one of the real bad ones that got you in those VIP hell sections. Greed is when you want too much. When you want for what’s no longer your share. What you don’t deserve. Greed was, apparently, in everything I did. Waking up. Eating. Sitting. Talking. Laughing. Smiling. Crying. Existing. All the other -ings of life. Breathing. If this was anxiety or something else in my head that maybe just wanted an excuse to finally come crawling out, I don’t know. What I did know was that by twelve years old, I started looking at every second I lived in regards to the questions like did I earn this? Did I deserve it?

When I was maybe seven or eight, my parents had signed me up for a summer swimming class, just like the rest of my siblings had when they turned seven or eight in hopes of alleviating the constriction of my airways. Every day for two weeks, I’d spend two pathetic hours in a pool. I was awful at swimming. The water was liquid fear and every inch I submerged was an inch of terror. I was graceless in a pool, and I did so awfully that I had to be taken out of the main class and taught, one on one, how to do something as simple as hold my breath. I didn’t actually get the whole concept that you were only supposed to do it when you were out of the water. Constantly, I was sucking water into my throat and lungs. It was in this class I taught myself the intricacies of drowning. It was here where I learned how to fear it. But it was in my senior year of high school I learned that maybe I deserved it.

I tried my best to avoid pools, but it was inescapable in twelfth grade. Our required PE class was swimming, and if I wanted to graduate, I had to get in the water. For two hours every week, I would drown. The moment I was in the water, my mind went loud with the mumbles: your limbs are moving in all the wrong ways you’re making a fool of yourself you’ll never get better Ma'am is yelling at you just stay under stay under stay under, the usual yadda yadda yadda. I wouldn’t have such a hard time if ten years prior, I just bucked up and learned how to swim. This pain I felt as I gulped chlorine water into my throat, as I cried tears nobody would see, as I flailed and breathed in something I wasn’t supposed to, was my punishment for once being the scared and useless little kid who didn’t want to get into the pool. Stay under. You didn’t deserve to breathe air. Stay under.

I did eventually surface, but it wasn’t my choice so much as my body’s survival instincts. It can’t seem to get with the program. What if, sometimes, I didn’t deserve to survive?

It’s a little capitalistic to subscribe to the concept of deserving things. Of having to work to deserve things. In a lot of contexts, earning things is important. Rewards only come to those who work hard, afterall, but things start to get odd when you apply the same principle to things people just inherently have. Case in point: life, living, and all its permutations. Sure, one could work hard to improve the quality of their life—and if they succeeded or not will not always be because of them, things like privilege and circumstance mucks up the entire system of deserving things even more—but you didn’t have to work to earn the right to live. Nobody asks to be born, and we’re all just here because we are. If somebody gets told they need to reach a certain quota to be alive, that’s an injustice. Prejudice, in extreme cases. Ascribing the concept of having to deserve to live brings up the corollary of who deserves to die. That’s called playing god, and over the course of history, it’s generally frowned upon.

I figure I can play god when it’s just in the confines of my head since the only one frowning is me. One of the ways I cope with the constant stream of noise that sometimes makes sense and sometimes doesn’t, is to use a solid system of deserving. Worth. It filters the noise down to what’s true and what isn’t. If I recited well in class, I earned the right to hang out with my friends and laugh for a half hour or so. If I got a high score in an exam, I earned the right to eat dinner later that night. If I wrote at least five hundred words every weekday of a week, I earned the right to sleep in til noon on sunday. If I didn’t do something right, if I didn’t do something enough, if I got through a day without having done anything to justify my living it, I’d take away things I could do or indulge in. Food. Sleep. Contact. Those were things I had to earn. If I went even further in the wrong direction, I deserved punishment. A punch to the wall of our bathroom for every slip up I did. The next day, I fail a test because I can’t hold my pen correctly, my fingers bruised and shaking. I make up for it with the left hand, and so it goes. This is what I deserved. By ascribing achievement with worth, I silence one voice in my head that tells me I’m selfish for doing one thing. In this, finally, I can breathe. All I have to do to keep on living without the voices suffocating me is to work hard and work right and everything will be okay. 

Or it wouldn’t be.

On a given day, I’ve either deserved to live or not. One of the easiest breaths I’ve ever taken was on the top floor of a retreat complex in Antipolo. The building had five storeys along with an open roof and no railing. Just a meter tall concrete barrier. It was seven in the morning. I was seventeen. I was standing on top of the barrier. I walked it like a catwalk for a few minutes before I stopped, looked out into the dawn.

I dangled my foot forward then I did the same but back. I remember thinking about my skull crushing upon hitting the ground below. I remember standing and wondering about myself as a scale. On the end above the safety of the roof would lie all the days I deserved. On the other, the one that hung above a drop that maybe I’d survive if I was lucky, if I earned it, were all the days I didn’t deserve. I never got around to learning what the verdict was because a teacher found me right then. I had to explain with words pouring out like chlorine water that I wasn’t thinking of jumping, which technically wasn’t a lie. I was thinking of falling. 

My moment was cut short, but I swear, I felt the scales tip forward. I swear I almost followed it. I swear I would’ve deserved it. I still think I do.

From an objective perspective, my deserving-things system works in keeping me functional and productive. From another perspective, it’s apparently abuse. I understand this, but deny it when it comes to myself. If anybody were to do this to another person, I’d think them evil. When it’s just me, I call it motivation. In my defense, people who are abused never deserve it. Everything that happens to me is something I had coming. Or something I tell myself I had coming. I’m lying to myself, but I’d rather believe in motivation than the possibility I have a problem. It’s not like I deserved to even say this was all real anyway.

Nothing particularly bad has ever happened in my life to have caused this. No traumatic experience at twelve, no definitive history of bullying, no nothing. One of the worst things anxiety has ever done to me was rob me of a reason, and I’m not even sure if the anxiety is real or not. I don’t even want to know. I refuse to see a counselor or a doctor because the prospect of having an answer terrifies me more than having a question. What if I get diagnosed and it’s real? I actually have a problem. What if my cartoon metaphor isn’t just for kicks, but my brain is genuinely wired differently in a way that causes me trouble not everybody else goes through? The implications of it being real would mean things like treatment, therapy, medication, expense. Anxiety never existed past my own body and so the thought of it becoming tangible and real has me crawling back to the safety of uncertainty.

On the flipside is the possibility that really haunts me though; the one I can’t decide on whether or not it’s better or worse. What if I go to a doctor and there’s nothing wrong? What if I’m fine? Every single thing I had gone through was a fabrication. Every terrible thing in my brain was something I made up. I’ve been lying this entire time, and I didn’t even notice. I was a fraud in every sense of the word, not just to everybody I know, but to myself.

Maybe I deserved that; the death sentence of knowing if it was yes or no. But this wasn’t the type of deserving that set my mind at ease. It was the kind that scared me. The kind I’ve been shying away from. It’s this fear that hinders me from moving forward and even beginning to recover. How do you get better from a sickness you don’t believe is there?

My maybe-maybe-not anxiety has plagued me for years and it’s made my life worse. In spite of this, I refuse see if it’s a real issue and I refuse to seek help for something that might be a fake one. I assume that maybe there’s a part of me—perhaps the survival instinct that never got the memo—that wants to get better, that wants whatever the hell this might be out of my head. But then I wonder if there will be anything left behind.

My anxiety dictates how I function. How I sleep, eat, talk, breathe, live. Take that away, and I’ll be years late in the game of figuring out how to exist in a world I never had to earn to live in. Eighteen is young still, so maybe I have time, but it’s daunting. Fear is sometimes a warm blanket to hide under. Something, something about dogs and old tricks. The usual excuse. My guise of I can’t do it actually just a farce to hide the scared shaking, terrified kid who didn’t want to go swimming saying, over and over again, I don’t want to do it. The difference, I guess, is that it’s not as hopeless as I’m making it out to be.

A month ago, urged by a week of monumental stress punctuated by a panic attack each day, I started smoking. My lungs aren’t asthmatic anymore, so physically, I can take it. Every other day I’d pull smoke into my mouth, wait til I could inhale it into my lungs, hold it until I was ready to breath out, like a silent kind of whistle. The dragon of my childhood dreams.

It was the perfect compromise. A smoke was a punishment because I knew it was messing up my health, but it was also a reward because it shut my mind up for a blissful few minutes, the voices steadily trickling in. I liked smoking. It was quiet, it was bad for me, and, ironically, my lungs felt lighter each time.

Maybe, after years of wheezing followed by years of frantic, shaking rasping, I got tired of not doing this whole air thing right. Maybe I started smoking to teach myself how to breathe again. It’s not much but, however misguided, it’s still a step. I figure if I can take one, I can take another. Then another. Then another.

[elizabeth-midford-who-blog]

Alright fandom, I’m about to bring up a topic that has pissed me off for way too long. Way back to one of my favourite arcs, Book of Circus.

A topic that has not only been something personal to me, but another reason that Sebastian Michaelis is one of the most disgusting characters and if SebaCiel was real, it’d be indeed a heavily toxic relationship. Also, a counter argument to everyone that brings this up as a point to hate Our!Ciel.

Today, I’m going to discuss my heavy belief and theory, that during this scene, Ciel was forced into a PTSD attack.

Look at the following three pictures.

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) -  a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.

With this in mind, PTSD has to be triggered by something, not just when Ciel walks in and sees the exact duplicate of a room he was trapped in for a month. These three photos are so important because it shows exactly how this connected to that day. The doctor representing the cultists, Ciel is now forced to remember all those terrible memories, his traumatic memories scratching the surface. How heavily these two scenes correlate is so important.

Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?

At this exact moment in time, we lost Ciel, he was gone and reliving everything. The outside world completely falling apart to him, having no idea what happened anymore after this moment.

Now, showing the actual attack.

‘Stop it’.

‘Stop it’.

‘Someone’.

What do you assume from the black text boxes? To me, this appears to be happening in Ciel’s mind, he is now reliving this all over again until the end of the arc. I will go more in depth in that later.

Right now, he is calling out to someone right now, he wants someone to get him out of this hell hole, just like he did that day.

My point is, and I can’t stress this enough, he believes he is back there in the cage, and he wants out. He is gonna do everything to get out.

To make more sense of this before moving on to my next point of the actual PTSD attack, here are the symptoms of an attack.

Behavioral: agitation, irritability, hostility, hypervigilance, self-destructive behavior, or social isolation.

Psychological: flashback, fear, severe anxiety, or mistrust.

Mood: loss of interest or pleasure in activities, guilt, or loneliness.

Sleep: insomnia or nightmares.

Also common: emotional detachment or unwanted thoughts.

Now, I have put in bold the ones Ciel is suffering from AND signs that he has shown previous to this. Guilt and nightmares are the biggest examples of that.

Right now, he is having extreme emotional detachment and unwanted thoughts, with flashbacks fueling fear and severe anxiety. He is suffering much more than what he appears to be.

Now, here is my second point to this that involves Sebastian:

For anyone that wants to argue that Sebastian isn’t as bad, or he sincerely cares for Ciel. I’m about to throw those words back in your face.

Sebastian Michaelis is a demon, he does not give a single fuck about our!Ciel, sorry if I have to be the one to tell you this, but he doesn’t and this is the first example I’d give anybody to show them.

‘Young master, is there something you’re afraid of?’

‘You’re outside of the cage right now, my Lord.’

‘Call my name.’

Those sentences, are the biggest forms of manipulation I’ve ever seen coming from this demon. He didn’t break Ciel out of the PTSD attack, I’ve seen other people saying that, but that is far from the truth. I will show that through the next set of pictures. 

Right now, I want to explain what I believe to be Sebastian’s intentions. This goes if he understood what was happening or not. I start to believe more and more that he did, because focus on the look on Sebastian’s face. He is smirking, he seems more than pleased by the situation because he gains from it. He tells him to call his name, say it, because Ciel believes he is in the cage and has just called the demon to come and save him. Sebastian, being aware he wants to be saved, he wanted help, used him, his asthma and PTSD attack, and he did it to make not only their contract stronger but to make Ciel’s soul better.

Revenge, sorrow, pain, all these things that make Ciel’s soul the best that it is, the want to be stronger than his enemies, Sebastian knows this.

Sebastian used this for his own agenda, he didn’t do it because he wanted to help Ciel find himself, because he didn’t. All that demon wanted was to help himself with his meal, that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

When Ciel then acts out, screaming to ‘kill these guys’, you think he means the doctor and Joker right?

I’m afraid, far from it, saying Ciel is mixing his reality with the past, he believes he is telling Sebastian to kill the same people he already killed three years ago. He does not remember the reality before him. What he is seeing, is so much different than to what you and I were seeing.

The most important point in this post is:

Ciel had no idea who he was killing, he thought he was in the cage, he didn’t care who died, he wanted the cultists stopped.

CIEL WAS NOT AWARE HE WAS KILLING THOSE CHILDREN.

Another message (SebaCiel):

I don’t care what you ship, I really don’t.

However, if you look at this scene and sexualize it, I don’t mean ironically (joking is fine), I mean you truly look at this and think this is a great example of SebaCiel, I’m sorry, but you piss me off and quite frankly I feel you are not only spiting in Ciel’s face, but the people who suffer from PTSD.

Have you ever seen someone have a PTSD attack? It’s terrifying, it is one of the hardest things to deal with, pulling someone out of those memories and making them feel safe again-. It is difficult, and I’ll say it once more.

No, Ciel calling Sebastian’s name, did not break him out of his trance.

To romanticize and sexualize PTSD and his asthma attack is disgusting, and a pathetic way of filling your yaoi quota.

Off of that rant, I’m gonna move on to the last bit of this.

Burning the children.

As you can see, Ciel just denied the Queen’s orders.

Ciel just denied the Queen’s orders.

He’s never done that before in his entire career, isn’t that off to you?

Of course it is, because he in his mind doesn’t work for her yet, what Sebastian says to him is not processing to him. Sebastian isn’t aware of this more than likely, but I promise you nothing anybody is saying is entering Ciel’s ears and he is understanding it unless it relates to that day. When he says to burn down the place, he believes he is getting rid of the place that caused him aching pain and suffering for an entire month. Not just for him but his beloved brother.

Reliving these memories, Ciel wanted nothing more than it to go away.

Let me say again, Sebastian asking if he was ‘sure’ wouldn’t have helped at all. To open your mind a bit, here are the very few ways to help PTSD. Most of the time the person needs to take medication and probably go to sleep.

Therapies:

Cognitive behavioral therapy - A talk therapy focused on modifying negative thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses associated with psychological distress.

Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing - Psychological treatment that reduces the stress of traumatic events through eye movements.

Exposure and response prevention - A talk therapy based on exposing feared or traumatic experiences within a safe setting in order to help reduce any associated psychological distress.

Medications:

Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI) - Eases symptoms of depressed mood and anxiety.

Now, these are modern treatments, which are very few to begin with.

You know what they had back then? Nothing. No, that is not a joke, PTSD was not recognized until 1980. So needless to say, Ciel was fucked, and the only and best way Sebastian could’ve helped would’ve been knocking him out after killing the threats. Not even quite sure if Ciel would’ve been okay after waking, or if he’d even remember what happened, which would’ve been best because now he has the guilt of killing all these children for the rest of his life.

To all the people that use this heavily as a point for disliking Ciel:

I’d just like to say, you don’t have to like Ciel, but don’t you EVER come at me with this shit and telling me how it’s his fault. He didn’t want to do that, if Ciel had been in his right mind and knew what he was doing, he would’ve never made the move he did.

He thought he was killing the cultists all over again.

After all the comments, discussion and controversy with this that I’ve seen, from fulfilling fangirl’s yaoi dreams to completely blaming Ciel for a serious mental disorder, I have to say-

The conversation around this entire situation in Book of Circus inside this fandom, is beyond disgusting to me.

Sorry for my amount of salt in this post, but this topic to me is personal, and I’m tired of it being treated not as seriously as it really is.

This is my theory, my opinions on Ciel’s PTSD, and I don’t believe he should be blamed for something he didn’t ask for.

I apologize for rambling, that’s it.

[paceprompting]

Okay, you know what, I’m just gonna write this because it’s been in my brain nonstop for two weeks and it’s not going away any time soon.

Imagine if, during a mission, after Bucky is back and he’s well enough to at least sniper on some missions, blah blah, details, details...he sees Steve go down after taking a blast to the head. Not lethal, but enough to knock him out.

As fast as he can, Bucky is racing down to get to Steve, but doesn’t manage to get there before some goon is injecting Steve’s arm with a strange substance. Bucky throws the goon in the trees and tried to go to Steve, but he’s forced to take cover when a Hydra sniper starts firing at him, only hoping that he doesn’t target Steve. 

After a moment, the shooting stops and Bucky hears over the comms that Barton managed to take the sniper out, and he rushes to get Steve. As soon as he steps out into the open, something sharp clips the side of his neck and he hears Barton cursing, “What the fuck, I got him.” But it doesn’t matter because Bucky’s vision is already fuzzy and he can’t stand. 

He crumbles beside Steve. 

They both wake up an indeterminable amount of time later, to the frightened gazes of their friends, but something isn’t right. Neither of them recognize any of their friends, even threatening to call the police if they wouldn't leave the alone. Steve, strangely not Bucky, starts to get violent, until JARVIS chimes in and Steve proceeds to freak out, because “what the hell was that”, and when JARVIS talks again to try and calm Steve down, Steve falls to floor, clutching his head. When the team goes to check on Bucky, he’s in a similar state and Tony decides to sedate the both of them. 

Some through testing later, Tony’s determined that both Steve and Bucky think it’s 1939, that Steve isn’t Captain America, Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier, and they both have painful breakdowns every time they encounter something modern or their brains try to process that Steve isn’t small and sickly anymore or that Bucky doesn’t just work at the docks. 

For their own safety, the Avengers decide not to try and force Steve and Bucky to remember anything past 1939. Tony keeps them sedated for a few days while he builds a replica of their apartment in Brooklyn, fit with cameras to observe them, and chips to implant in their necks that tap into their memories and allow Tony to only let them see up to the point they can currently remember.

Basically, Bucky won’t see Captain America, he'll see the small, pre-serum Steve and Steve will see pre-serum Bucky without a metal arm. Both men get haircuts, especially Bucky, and Natasha rounds up some clothes that match the time period. 

Once everything is set up, everyone crosses their fingers as Tony lets Steve and Bucky sleep off the last of the sedation and wake up in 1939. Thankfully, Steve and Bucky’s minds seem to accept their surroundings and they go about their day as if it were 1939. Tony or someone keeps careful watch, just in case things take a turn for the worse. 

Strangely, the only weird thing that happens is Steve and Bucky’s relationship. Or lack thereof. The Avengers are so used to the in-love couple, that watching Steve and Bucky awkwardly dance around each other is bizarre. Bucky still blatantly stares at Steve, but he’ s careful to look busy when Steve starts to pay attention to him, and Steve keeps side-glancing at Bucky when he thinks he can get away with it. 

The Avengers can’t get enough, and as much as Sam torments them about, he can’t stop watching the strangeness either, especially not after they start bringing in snacks and popcorn during shifts. 

They also see the Steve and Bucky from before Captain America and the Winter Soldier. 

Steve draws almost every day, and listens to radio shows (recordings Tony had bought online) every morning, and Bucky talks almost nonstop, teasing Steve to no end and drawling with his sweet words and charm that the team had only heard about. Bucky cooks breakfast for Steve, leaving it for him because most often, Steve slept in late. They learned the difference between Steve’s stern Bucky, and his angry James Buchanan Barnes when Bucky would actually piss him off.  

They saw Steve at his worst. With both of them still thinking Steve had his old health problems, Tony thought it was too risky to keep those memories stuffed down. Even though in real life, Steve’s body was in perfect health, his mind still made him endure asthma attacks and near heart stoppages. 

Before Tony finally figured out the ins and outs of whatever the two of them were injected with, Steve had technically nearly died about four times. 

When Tony also created an antidote, more dilemmas occurred. With Steve and Bucky no longer stuck in the past, how exactly was the team supposed to pull them back into the future without breaking them. 

And could they erase Bucky’s Winter Soldier conditioning?

Sadly, Tony, Bruce and Vision deducted that the safest thing was to have Steve and Bucky relive everything exactly the way it had happened. 

So, a month in a day’s time frame. 1939 quickly became 1940. About July of that year, July 4th to be exact, Steve’s birthday, Bucky kissed Steve, what the team realized to be, for the first time. They also realized how much of a romantic Bucky truly was, because in Steve and Bucky’s memories, fireworks were going off in the distance just as they kissed.

The team nearly experience Steve and Bucky‘s first time, but ducked out of the room as Bucky went to suck Steve off in the kitchen. They did catch the only other instance in which Steve would call Bucky “James” but they would rather forget that one. 

1940 turns into 1941, then ‘42, and ‘43, then ‘44 and ‘45. 

Steve and Bucky have the biggest fight of their relationship when Steve learns Bucky is shipping out and hadn’t even told Steve he’d joined up. It becomes a matter of pride for both of them, and it doesn’t end on good terms. 

Bucky leaves, his and Steve’s relationship hanging by a thread. He still kisses Steve on the forehead goodbye, but Steve is still asleep in bed when he does it and Steve is so angry when he wakes up to find Bucky gone. 

Steve becomes Captain America and relives the shame of being a glorified showgirl before he learns about Bucky being taken prisoner. 

As things start to heat up with Steve and Bucky’s memories, Tony has them half-conscious for memories like Steve fighting his way through a Hydra base camp to find Bucky, so that they’re experiencing the memories, but not reenacting them.

Steve and Bucky are fully conscious for their reunion in the military camp tent, where part of Tony’s chip for Bucky can be deactivated and Bucky can see Steve as Captain America. Steve and Bucky are awkward again, like before in 1939, but neither of them wants things to stay as they were when Bucky had been so close to dying. 

They create a makeshift bed on the floor of the tent, because they can’t both fit on the little cots, and sleep by each other’s side for the night, just holding each other.

Then Bucky dies. 

The night on the train passes and Tony and others remove Bucky to another room to begin reliving the horror of the Winter Soldier in a safe environment.

Steve is also taken to a safe room, where he breaks down. He collapses to the floor, tearing pouring down his face and sobs racking his body. For once as Captain America, Steve can’t catch his breath. 

Steve frantically tries to pull it together by himself for an hour and a half before the chip takes him to the airplane and he’s become Captain America again, taking the plane down into the Artic.

Tony takes down a note to have someone, maybe even Bucky, talk with Steve about Bucky’s death in 1945. 

From that point on, everyone thinks it best to let Steve and Bucky relive the rest of their memories to present day alone, if not fully asleep as well. Tony sets JARVIS on sentry mode to watch both men, and the team leaves them alone. 

For a week, there’s incessant banging and screaming from Bucky’s room, but unless JARVIS were to tell them otherwise, the team doesn’t investigate. Steve’s room is almost too quiet, and Natasha has JARVIS send her daily, even hourly, updates on his state.

Steve comes out of his room first, a little dazed still, but fully caught up to the present. He has no memory of reliving everything from 1939 to when he reemerged, but does know something went wrong on their last mission.

Wanda gives Steve a great big hug when she sees him, and then Steve really wants to know what had happened. The team lets Natasha slowly explain, and when she’s finished, Steve is speechless. His only question is whether Bucky is at least okay as he is, and Natasha tells him that Bucky is still working through his memories. 

Steve starts to go off to rest some more in his bedroom, but Tony stops him and hands him a disc. On it is written 1939 - 1945 and Tony assures Steve it’s the only copy and that any other video had been thoroughly deleted from any other database in the universe.

A few days later, Bucky comes out from his safe room and keeps his distance from everyone else. He seems to have a better idea that he’d relived something traumatic and the job falls to Natasha again to carefully explain what had happened. 

Bucky eventually makes his way to his and Steve’s bedroom, and finds Steve sleeping on top of the covers in sweatpants and the sweater Bucky had given him for Christmas. Bucky sits beside him and brushes his finger softly along the side of Steve’s face until he wakes. 

When Steve sees him, they embrace and it’s quiet. Neither of them say a word until Bucky sees that their TV is on and paused on something that looks like the two of them. 

Steve rushes to try and turn it off, but Bucky catches him and gets an explanation. Steve tells him it’s their memories, and that he’s watched the whole thing and was trying to again, but it’s a lot.

He offers to put it away somewhere where it will never see the light of day, but Bucky wants to see it. He’s still missing a lot of their life from before the Winter Soldier, even after reliving it all, and he wants to try.

So, they settle down and Steve restarts the disc.

At first, Bucky has a permanent smile etched onto his face and the two of them laugh over how awkward they look. The disc shows them a mixture of feed from the implanted chips and video from the cameras in the replica apartment. 

Eventually, they end up with Bucky holding Steve from behind, arms around his chest, and his head on Steve’s shoulder with Steve sitting crisscross between Bucky’s legs. 

They stop the video when Bucky goes off to war, partly because it’s midnight and mostly because Bucky won’t stop apologizing for it. 

The next day, they wake up and immediately start the video again, taking the same position they were in the day before. 

Bucky watches eagerly as he witnesses Steve’s memory of becoming the body of Captain America, and makes fun of him throughout the showgirl phase. 

He steels himself through the memory of his torture before Steve rescued him, hand tight in Steve’s and nose buried in Steve’s neck, keeping his breath steady and slow.

They stop the video one last time when Steve starts crying as Bucky witnesses the memory of Steve breaking down after he’d lost Bucky on the train. Bucky doesn’t try to tell Steve that none of it was his fault. Instead, he wraps the both of them in their comforter and they quietly make plans to have Steve join Bucky in his therapy sessions, and maybe even have ones of just Steve. 

They finish the last part of the video, both a bit emotionally worn out. They spend the rest of the day in bed, sleeping and cuddling and actually just staring at each other because they can. 

[trashhuman666]

Request prompts!

Feel free to use this list for requests (which are always open 😊) with any Marvel character.

I do fluff and angst and (as of right now) I am willing to try smut, though as I've never written for it I cant promise it will be high quality.

Prompts:

1. "You should have told me"

2. "I'm not ready for you to go"

3. "I'm only sorry I didnt tell you sooner."

4. "I was horrible... it's my only regret."

5. "I dont make mistakes."

6. "As we all know, I am perfect."

7. "It wasn't a seizure, you fart, it was an asthma attack!"

8. "I know you'll never forgive me, but can you at least hear me out?"

9. "Pitiful."

10. "Well, actually, I was just going to binge Star Wars, but if you insist..."

11. "Yes, I heard everything."

12. "I can never look you in the eyes again."

13. "I wish I could look you in the eyes one more time."

14. "Stop being so damn dramatic."

15. "Stop being so damn handsome."

16. "I dont want to lose you... Not again."

17. "Oh, shit."

18. "I cant believe S.H.I.E.L.D. has been under our damn noses all this time."

19. "Take a shower."

20. "You're distracting me from my book."

21. "I will throw this at you."

22. "Let me help..." "... No."

23. "You didnt have to do that." "You're right, but I wanted to."

24. "Hey, asshole."

25. "Dont do anything stupid." "You mean something along the lines of exactly what you just did?" "Yeah, nothing like that."

26. "I'm not disappointed in you, just scared."

27. "Well this is it! This is me! And if you want me to change, then I want you gone!"

28. "Um... What are you doing?"

29. "We need to get them together."

30. "I'm way better than you."

31. "Prove it."

32. "The only thing I need right now is a hug and <Name>." "I can provide one of those."

33. "Who the hell are you?" "Here we go again..."

34. "Okay, I'm going to go to my room and play Mamma Mia. When I'm done, I want this to be fixed."

35. "A-and then they just... turned... dust... I... Help?"

36. "I never should have ignored them..."

37. "Oh, God. You actually are a moron, arent you?"

38. "Hey, that's me!" "No... That's <Other character played by same actor>."

39. "What's happening?" "I have no idea."

40. "I'm so confused." "That's normal."

41. "Why?" "I dont know..."

42. "That's not my problem." "I'll make it your problem."

43. "I'm hungry, bored and tired." "And I'm busy."

44. "I'm not going to stop looking until we find them." "You might be looking a while."

Alternatively:

"You won't have to look long. I found their address." "Is this... a cemetary?"

45. "Dont get too excited to see me... I'm the bearer of bad news..."

46. "Stop. Singing. That. Damn. Song."

47. "I hate everything and everyone." "Even me?" "Of course not, dear, you're amazing."

48. "Have you seen this?" "If you show me that video one more time, I'll go on a murder rampage."

49. "Did you adopt another dog?" "Sadly, no." "Then who adopted this?" "Um... That's not a dog."

50. "Did you watch Hamilton? You put a comma after Dearest." "No? What does Hamilton have to do with that?"

51. In a fairytale/other specified au (I have a few ideas, dm if interested)

52. "Did you go to a How To Be Dramatic school? Was it specifically for supervillains, or are you the odd one out?"

53. "Technically speaking they used to be people... Sorta sad, when you think about it."

54. "What does the little blinking light mean?"

55. "Dont move! They're watching you..."

56. "Why are they bleeding?"

57. "Sorry I died."

58. "Did you honestly think I'd leave you?" "Yes." "Well, I'm glad to see you think so highly of me."

59. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." "To be clear... We are still talking about hair braids, yeah?"

60. "Whatever happens, whatever you hear... Dont look back."

61. "So... Last night on Earth... What do you want to do?"

62. "I wish you never came back!"

63. "You're better than this!"

64. "I... I killed them..."

65. "I dont know how to feel anymore."

66. "I could never hate you. I loved you." "...Loved?"

67. "You're a monster."

68. "You're a disappointment."

69. "I swear to God if you die on me after everything weve gone through, I will be so mad!"

70. "I wish I'd never met you."

71. "Thanks for nothing."

72. "Dont call me ever again."

73. "Whyd you let me live?"

74. "They're not answering the phone."

75. "So now we have to sell a brand new wedding dress?"

76. "Let me go! I can still save them!"

77. "I dont have long..."

78. "I came to say goodbye..."

79. "They died..."

80. "I dont care about you... No one does."

81. Catching their affair

82. "I promised them. I promised they could be saved, they were going to survive." "Well, you shouldnt make promises you cant keep."

83. "You're so cold... Why are you so cold?"

84. "Sing me to sleep, one last time?" "I'm not going to do nothing but sing while you die!" "What if I asked real nice?"

85. "I know I said I'd take a bullet for you... I just didnt know I meant it literally..."

86. "I dont remember who you are." "That just makes this easier."

87. "Its not your fault, okay?" "You dont understand... It is."

88. "Theres no happy ending to this."

89. "Please dont make me suffer any more..."

90. "I said you cant fall in love with me, I said nothing about my falling in love with you."

91. "Is that my sweater?" "No." "It has my name on it." "How do you know?" "I can read."

92. "I know you're mad at me, but would a kiss change your mind?"

93. "Can you stop laughing?"

94. "Shouldnt you be sleeping? Oh, yeah, also howd you break in?"

95. "Shut up and cuddle me?"

96. "I'm not kissing you until you say sorry, and you cant do anything about it, shorty."

97. "Hold my hand?" "Scared?" "Terrified."

98. "Did you build this fort just for me?" "The world doesnt revolve around you." "..." "..." "..." "... Yes."

99. Kids

100. One last kiss before heading into one last battle.

[i-am-very-very-tired]

Home News US Home Sport UK Showbiz US Showbiz Australia Home Femail Health Sci & Tech Video Money Travel Discount Codes Login | Join now Desktop site Femail Share this articleFacebook Twitter e-mail SMS WhatsApp How can I cure rhinitis? By Dr Rosemary Leonard 00:00 BST 09 Oct 1993, updated 09:09 BST 24 Apr 2002 Facebook Twitter e-mail SMS WhatsApp 0 comments In allergic rhinitis, the lining of the nose becomes inflamed in response to breathing in certain substances, known as allergens. Often, as in your case, the throat is affected too. The most common allergens to cause rhinitis are pollens, which lead to the classic symptoms of hayfever in spring and early summer. Some unlucky people, though, like you, get rhinitis all the year round - a condition known as perennial rhinitis. The most common allergens that provoke perennial rhinitis are house dust mites, animal fur, feathers and mould spores (which, incidentally, are the also the most common causes of asthma). Skin prick testing can help to identify the worst culprits, so ask your doctor if this could be arranged for you. Meanwhile, replace pillows and duvets that contain feathers with ones filled with polyester, cover your mattress with a special anti-allergic cover, and don't let furry animals in your bedroom, or any rooms where there are soft furnishings. The best treatments for allergic rhinitis are steroid nasal sprays, such as Beconase or Flixonase, which help prevent the allergic response responsible for the inflammation. They must be used regularly, every day, for best effect, and you may have to continue with treatment for years. Anti-histamine tablets can help too - it's worth trying different brands to find which ones suits you best, then get a large supply on prescription from your GP. The most specific treatment for allergic rhinitis is immunotherapy. This involves repeated injections of a tiny amount of allergen, with the aim of desensitising your immune system. This type of treatment is only carried out in specialist clinics, as it can cause a sudden, severe allergic reaction. However, if your symptoms are severe, it would be worthwhile asking your GP for a referral. Facebook Twitter e-mail SMS WhatsApp 0 comments Home Showbiz Femail Sport NEXT STORIES1/30 A real cat burglar! Viral video captures cheeky feline's hilarious reaction after being caught red-handed with a piece of stolen fish -... 'If you value your life keep the f*** out of Islam': Loose Women star Saira Khan receives death threat after posting Instagram... 'I don't need a house': US woman sells all her possessions and converts a van into a home to avoid paying expensive rent (and... Queen Maxima is all smiles at a homeless centre in The Netherlands as she steps out for the first time since her father... What does your clutter say about YOU? It all depends where you hide your hoard, says an intriguing new book Are these the most GENIUS hacks ever? Men and women share some VERY creative solutions to their everyday woes The best-selling £2.25 moisturiser that the Royal Marines swear by... because it doubles up as an insect repellent Perfectionists look away now! People reveal the things they find most irritating in life in INFURIATING photos 'It's too f****** early': Mother goes on a furious rant as she discovers shops have started selling Christmas cards in... Are you a victim of STASHING? New dating trend reveals why your other half will NEVER introduce you to their friends or family 'The groom revealed his wife had been sleeping with the best man': People share the WORST weddings they've ever been to... 'My mind is blown!' Bake Off star Nadiya divides opinion after admitting she dunks bhajis in her TEA - but says the spicy snack is simply 'the... My plaice or yours? Woman, 21, ties the knot with chip shop boss 36 years her senior (and says hotels still offer them a twin... Saved by kindness: Starved lurcher dumped by a roadside was an hour from death when she was rescued by a couple in a case one... Revealed: How long you can keep cheese in the fridge before you should throw it away (and you should ignore the use-by date as it's... 'We spend 99% of our time together': Couple who live AND work with each other reveal how they keep the love alive (and it's much easier... From three ingredient cookies to milkshake ice lollies: 10 super easy recipes for all the family to enjoy 'Meet Mr Losefivepoints!' University Challenge viewers mock blundering contestant after he leaves his... Newlywed reveals the 'living hell' of OCD as she admits she once washed her hair 72 times a day and cleaned her hands daily up to... 'State your name cuz': Mother meets Stormzy and gets him to record a hilarious video message for her son (and the rapper is VERY... 'Her skin was paper thin and she wasn't much bigger than my hand': Baby girl born at 26 weeks weighing just 673grams defies the... Would YOU let your 14-year-old wear this swimsuit? Woman is left horrified after she sees teenager wearing the same racy... Couple expecting triplets were forced to make heartbreaking decision to sacrifice conjoined twins in order to save their other baby Lesbian couple claim their luxury honeymoon was ruined by homophobic hotel staff who called them 'f***ing d***s', refused to... Not saying 'please', talking over others and using a phone in the cinema: People reveal the bad manners that make them furious... Newsreader Mark Austin admits he 'messed up' by ignoring his daughter Maddy's anorexia battle as she reveals she thought... Playboy model dubbed the 'world's hottest mother' shares intimate photos in a bid to 'normalise' breastfeeding (and... Little boy who was adopted by an Australian woman after getting lost in a Manila market shares his joy as he is reunited with his... McDonald's goes posh! Fast food giant launches its first brioche bun burgers that cost half the price of upmarket rival... Lumberjacks, firemen and farmers, oh my! Bevvy of burly, bearded men pull a series of provocative poses in hilarious... A real cat burglar! Viral video captures cheeky feline's hilarious reaction after being caught red-handed with a piece of stolen fish -... 'If you value your life keep the f*** out of Islam': Loose Women star Saira Khan receives death threat after posting Instagram... by Taboola Sponsored Links FROM THE WEB Some Of The Classic Cars That Are On Sale Might Surprise You.. Gumtree.co.za Breaking News: Your 9 to 5 Job Won't Make You Rich. What Will? Inspiration Weekly Look At These Celebs Who Are Aging Terribly GeekVIP 12 Cancer Symptoms Most People Ignore Healthy-Dove 20 Historical Photos They Dare Not Show You In School LikelyThings Learn to speak a language in just 15 hours? This app makes it possible! Babbel MOST READ NEWS1/18 The colourised pictures show a soviet soldier victoriously hoisting a flag over the city of Stalingrad, German troops of the 6th Army making their move into the suburbs of Stalingrad, in 1942. The 6th Army was a field army unit of the German Wehrmacht during World War Two. The 6th Army is still widely remembered for its destruction by the Red Army at the Battle of Stalingrad in the winter of 1942 and 43. It is also infamous for the war crimes, such as the massacre of more than 30,000 Jews at Babi Yar, it committed under the command of Field Marshal Walther von Reichenau during Operation Barbarossa in 1941 Battle of Stalingrad in colour, 75 years on: Striking images show the first female fighter pilot to strike down... An aerial view of the scene where the body was found at Flamefest in Royal Tunbridge Wells Death at the sex festival: Police arrest man found with class A drugs at a 'kink rave' after a middle-aged... Tiger Woods has been left furious after nude photos he sent to ex Lindsey Vonn were hacked from her phone and leaked on a porn site, it has been reported Tiger Woods unleashes his lawyers on porn site after it 'published nude selfies of him and ex Lindsey Vonn... Dion Skull (pictured with her sons) says she was 'humiliated' when she was 'shouted' for putting a new nappy on her one-year-old outside a restaurant Mother, 31, is left humiliated after restaurant manager shouted at her for changing her son's nappy in front of... A beachgoer waves frantically to the two surfers to his right as a shark rips into a seal to his left 'I thought I was dead': Terrifying moment surfers narrowly escape shark attack on Cape Cod as suspected Great... Accused: Esmeralda Marie Medellin, 18, sexually abused a boy, 4, she was babysitting, police said. The boy told his mom she had made him perform a sex act on her, they said Female babysitter, 18, 'forced boy, four, to perform a sex act on her A doctor and firefighters carry baby Pasquale to safety - and to be reunited with his mum - after an earthquake hits the island of Ischia, off the coast of Naples Saved! Firefighters applaud as they pull the last of three brothers to safety in front of their weeping father... Miss Settimo-Bovio claims the police took Alfie because of an incident at the end of June Seven police storm 73-year-old woman's house to seize her 'dangerous' Yorkshire terrier 'Alfie' after he 'chased... Champion bodybuilder Dallas McCarver (left in March) has died after he apparently choked on his food at home in Florida Champion bodybuilder Dallas 'Big Country' McCarver dies aged 26 after choking on food in his Florida home This building work of this glass fronted property in Midlothian was filmed for Channel 4's Grand Designs Glass fronted five-bedroom Grand Designs house that presenter Kevin McCloud described as his 'dream home' is on... At the weekend, this haven of Home Counties tranquillity was shattered by the noise of non-stop dance music and the spectacle of a public orgy Coarsening of Britain: As hundreds descend on Tunbridge Wells (of all places) for a sex party in a field, how... Cocaine worth almost £10million was smuggled into the UK from Brazil by a corrupt baggage handler, a court heard yesterday Baggage handler 'smuggled £10m of cocaine into the UK from Brazil in suitcases' in plan described as 'beautiful... A grandfather (pictured) swam in a murky river in the Northern Territory in a bid to impress his grandkids Can YOU spot the danger in this picture? Daredevil grandfather swims in a murky river to 'impress' his 14... Justin Bieber (left) is seen with longtime friend Floyd Mayweather Jr at a 2015 concert. Mayweather allegedly went 'insane, nuclear' after Bieber unfollowed him on Instagram REVEALED: Floyd Mayweather went 'nuclear' when he learned church-going Bieber unfollowed him on Instagram to... President Donald Trump cleared the way for the deployment of thousands more US troops to Afghanistan Monday, backtracking from his promise to rapidly end America's longest war Trump's U-turn on Afghanistan: President admits he was WRONG about pulling out of fight with Taliban but says... Follower of fashion: Louise Linton posted this photo of her and new hubby Steven Mnuchin visiting Fort Knox - and hashtagged the brands she was wearing. Rich cabinet spouses of Instagram: Wife of Steve Mnuchin snaps back at trolls and says 'I'm pretty sure we paid... Sunseekers spend time on the beach at Brighton in East Sussex today as the warm weather returns to southern England Summer's back... thank Gert! Britain is set for an Indian heatwave of 'hot and humid' 80F sunshine thanks to the... Stormzy has accused the Metropolitan Police of targeting 'black events' after officers made more than 300 arrests before Notting Hill carnival 'How many drugs did you seize in the run up to Glasto? Or are you only tweeting about black events?': Stormzy... The colourised pictures show a soviet soldier victoriously hoisting a flag over the city of Stalingrad, German troops of the 6th Army making their move into the suburbs of Stalingrad, in 1942. The 6th Army was a field army unit of the German Wehrmacht during World War Two. The 6th Army is still widely remembered for its destruction by the Red Army at the Battle of Stalingrad in the winter of 1942 and 43. It is also infamous for the war crimes, such as the massacre of more than 30,000 Jews at Babi Yar, it committed under the command of Field Marshal Walther von Reichenau during Operation Barbarossa in 1941 Battle of Stalingrad in colour, 75 years on: Striking images show the first female fighter pilot to strike down... An aerial view of the scene where the body was found at Flamefest in Royal Tunbridge Wells Death at the sex festival: Police arrest man found with class A drugs at a 'kink rave' after a middle-aged... MOST WATCHED NEWS VIDEOS 1 / 3 Surfers narrowly escape shark attack in Cape Cod An unconscious woman is airlifted to hospital from sex... Tranquil Grand Design home could sell for one million pounds Daredevil appears to be dangling from cliff 1100ft above sea level Harrowing CCTV footage shows moment Lauric Lebato fatally... Swimmer sacrifices race glory to honour victims of Spain... Timelapse of America's historic solar eclipse KKK leader threatens Univision reporter during intense interview Airstrike appears to obliterate hundreds of ISIS terrorists Ohio judge shot and wounded in ambush outside courthouse Trump family watches the solar eclipse from the White House Hysterical woman is comforted 'after watching Annabelle:... DON'T MISS How This Guy Became Rich Against All Odds? (Interview) Inspiration Weekly by Taboola Sponsored Link That's Amore! Smitten Amal Clooney shares a smooch with husband George as they leave their newborn twins at home for romantic dinner date in Italy 'We can't wait to meet you!': Geordie Shore's Gaz Beadle confirms he is having a BABY with Emma McVey... just two months after reconciling following dramatic split Smoothing things over? Khloe Kardashian, 33, displays her flawless face in new social media snaps... one year on from ditching 'crazy' fillers Ruth Langsford looks exhausted after FIRST EVER Strictly Come Dancing rehearsal with new contestants... as it's revealed her odds of winning are... Stacey Solomon heads home from Loose Women in playful boob jumper... after revealing beau Joe Swash refuses to see her while she is on her period 'Accept your body or go to the gym': Mariah Carey is accused of using 'photoshop' AGAIN... after stripping off for very revealing magazine shoot 'She comes to work with a big smile': Allison Janney praises 'strong' co-star Anna Faris for 'getting the job done' amid split from husband Chris Pratt 'He's devastated she went behind his back': Sarah Harding's 'secret boyfriend Aaron Lacey heartbroken' over her romance with CBB co-star Chad Johnson 'NFL if you need a new player, I'm your girl': Gemma Collins finally discusses THAT orange dress... as she reveals she has no fashion regrets PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: Gwyneth Paltrow confirms she'll star in Avengers 4 as she's seen on set with Robert Downey Jr and Mark Ruffalo Have You Seen How Terrifying These Celebs Look? PressRoomVIP by Taboola Sponsored Link 'She's training him': CBB evictees Sandi Bogle and Helen Lederer say Sarah Harding 'using' Chad Johnson for airtime on shock double eviction Ofcom to assess Sarah Harding's 'sex act' with Chad Johnson on Celebrity Big Brother after complaints that 'her hand slipped under the covers' Stormzy sends his support to his 'queen' girlfriend Maya Jama in gushing post... as she discusses growing up with a convict dad in jail Stunning other half Brave Ant McPartlin looks healthy and upbeat as he settles back into home life following first public appearance after two-month stint in rehab Behind-the-scenes Game Of Thrones footage explains how THAT lake battle sequence was shot... but accidentally uncloaks an epic CGI fail 'I couldn't squint ': Jo Wood, 62, admits she stopped having Botox because it drastically altered her looks... but hasn't ruled out a facelift in future Former Disney artists Aly & AJ prove they are all grown up as they pose for a provocative Playboy shoot and reveals bitter child star experiences Love fashion? Get all the latest fashion news and more in our Android app 'He said I should walk away from him': Emily MacDonagh addresses husband Peter Andre's battle with anxiety... as she admits the singer had told her to leave Check them out! Tallia Storm puts on a leggy display in a tiny mini skirt as she dons matching gingham with younger brother Johnnie Double trouble Carine Roitfeldís CR Fashion Book reveals its 11th edition issue featuring four covers with Lily-Rose Depp and Lara Stone, shot by Steven Klein, and Alek Wek and Cara Taylor, shot by Mario Sorrenti. In tandem, never before seen image of Prince, shot by Steven Klein, graces the cover of CR Menís Issue 5. I wanted to see if you would be interested in including an image or item from the issue. The pages are filled with incredible people- Natalie Portman, Justin Theroux, Rami Malek, Jasmine Sanders, Bonner Bolton and more. Press release and high-res images attached and below-please let me know if you need additional. Look forward to hearing from you. PHOTO CREDITS CR FASHION BOOK 11 Link to hi-res cover + images: Lily-Rose Depp and Lara Stone (Photographer: Steven Klein) https://spaces.hightail.com/receive/FkrT0snLT6 Link to hi-res covers: Alek Wek and Cara Taylor (Photographer: Mario Sorrenti) https://spaces.hightail.com/receive/f3da9ynuY3 PHOTO CREDITS CR MENíS BOOK ISSUE 5 Photog 'I turned 18, so I was ready to up the ante': Johnny Depp's daughter Lily-Rose reveals she was thrilled to be 'a little more sexy' for CR magazine 4 Sisters Took The Same Photo For 40 Years And It’s So Sad Thirsty Scoop by Taboola Sponsored Link She's her rock! Jennifer Garner keeps casual in head-to-toe black as she takes daughter Seraphina, 8, to a rock climbing lesson Brooklyn Beckham pays tribute to the late Chris Cornell in grungy band T-shirt as he shows off his darker 'do at first day of university in NYC SPOILER ALERT 'It's lethal, violent and surprising': Game Of Thrones director drops a MAJOR hint about the fate of the warring Stark sisters Red hot Emma Willis sizzles in figure-skimming scarlet shift dress as she presents Celebrity Big Brother's double eviction Turning heads No one is looking at her lips! Sexy Nicki Minaj puts her chest on display in low-cut PVC suit as she promotes new MAC lipstick Getting lippy The bombshells hit the ballroom: Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman join Gemma Atkinson and Mollie King as the glamorous girls attend first SCD rehearsals EXCLUSIVE: 'I told her about my past': Jamie Jewitt reveals secret depression battle... as he credits Love Island and Camilla Thurlow for turning his life around Kate and Jon Gosselin 'get into such a heated fight over custody of one of their eight kids police are called'... but no is arrested The two wed in 1999 EXCLUSIVE: 'It made him uncomfortable' Olivia Attwood weighs in on Katie Price messaging Chris... and claims the star was 'just trying her luck' Bikini-clad Tiffany Watson showcases ample assets and envy-inducing abs ahead of explosive MIC return... as Toff's ex Sam Prince has his eye on her by Taboola Sponsored Links FROM THE WEB She Was Stunning In The 70's - But What She Looks Like Today Is Incredible PettyandPosh.com After Losing 70lbs Susan Boyle is Unbelievably Gorgeous GolfTrendster.com Triplets Take DNA Test But Drs Reveal Painful News LikelyThings They Took The Same Picture For 40 Years. Don't Cry When You See The Last One! Womens24x7 × © Associated Newspapers Ltd Contact usMobile apps View desktop siteAdvertise with us SyndicationTerms Privacy & cookiesHow to complain Daily Mail Online FREE - In Google Play View

[fangirlingnextgen]

Hell can look appealing (part 2)

POV Alexis

January 3rd

 I roll my eyes as Max walks away. Why does she have to be so dramatic? It’s just… Brandon.

 “Your sister is the weird one!” He screams at her, even if she is already in the corridor.

 “WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” I yell. I am not weird!

 “Why does she call us weird?” He prefers to ask, probably knowing like me that it would lead us to another one of our numerous fights. I don’t know if I miss them or not. I can’t really decide now, it’s only our second normal conversation. I need more time to make a decision about it… even if it means talking to him more… Something I don’t mind as much as I did before. “Do we,” Brandon goes on, “I mean I, look weird?” He touches his hair, looking like one of these narcissistic actors. I try to force a grimace but it is so ridiculous that I laugh anyway. “Right now you do.” Even stupid, but I forgive you because it makes me laugh.

 “Excuse you!” He exclaims.

 “I told you it would kill me!” I chuckle. It’s not even a lie. I hate apologizing.

 “You think I could kill you?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one running around with a bat.” Correction: Mom runs around with a bat. I just use anything as a possible weapon… including, that’s true, bats.

 “You… could make me angry so much that I would have a heart attack. Or an asthma attack.”

 “I don’t even have to do anything for that it seems. You should be glad I knew CPR.” He makes a proud face as I frown, confused. Why is he talking about CPR?

 “You… what?”

 “What? What part is confusing?” He asks, as lost as I am.

 “Why are you talking about CPR?”

 “How else did you think you woke up? My magic wand?” He makes a short pause before adding: “Wait that sounds wrong..uh.” It sounds indeed wrong, but that’s not what bothers me on the moment.

 “Wait… you… used… CPR… on me… your lips…” I feel like I am going to faint, or throw up. That is just so gross. Brandon who… “ARGH OH MY GOD THAT’S DISGUSTING! IT’S LIKE YOU KISSED ME!”

 He doesn’t seem surprised by my screaming as he quietly replies. “Correction: Saved your life, and you’re welcome.”

 I start pacing up and down in front of him, letting my thoughts get out of my mouth. “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT YOU NOW ?”

 “As a hero? Your breath smelled like alcohol by the way.” I glance at him and see him shrugs. “Why is it such a problem? It didn’t mean anything.”

 BECAUSE I AM A DRAMA QUEEN LIKE THE REST OF THE WOMEN OF MY FAMILY.

“I DRANK OF COURSE IT SMELLED ALCOHOL.” I only answer, keeping the drama queen story for me. He’s already making fun of me, so I better shut up. I suddenly stop, his last sentence finally getting to my brain. It didn’t mean anything. “Wait… you’re right.”

 “Of course I am.” He says as if it was the most natural thing ever. And I just admitted he was…

 “Fuck you.”

 “No, it was just CPR darling.”

 I frown at him, fighting the envy to kick him in the balls just because he annoys me. “Fuck you.” I repeat.

 He sighs. “Do you ever learn?” The answer is so obvious that I don’t need to say anything. “But no awkwardness then? You didn’t tell anybody right?” He goes on. I don’t understand why he cares so much about people knowing anything about our interactions. We don’t care since they don’t mean anything… right?

 “Max?” I only say.

 He sighs again. “Of course…”

 “I had to tell her. Or she wouldn’t break up with the other Ken.” I explain for no reason. I realise too late that he doesn’t need to know that. “What a shitty name.” I add, hoping he won’t ask questions about the first sentence.

 “That is an idiot name.” He only comments. Thanks God, he doesn’t seem to care at all. “Fine.” He eventually says. “No wonder she thought we were weird then.”

 We were not weird. We’re still not. I rather keep talking about my sister and her ex than that.

 “For once we agree on something… I’m glad she found the courage to get rid of him. He was bad for her.”

 “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she okay?” Okay maybe he cares actually.

 I shrug, minimizing how much he hurt Max. Brandon doesn’t need to know that. “She will. Being here and not see him will help I think.” Abort mission Lex, you’re talking way too much. “Anyway, I have to unpack, so option 1 you leave or option 2 you help.”

 He smiles at me. Why the fuck is he smiling? Luckily it doesn’t last and he quickly goes back to his normal face. “I heard bras, I’ll help.” He winks. Of course he will. He really only thinks about sex or what? Every time he can, he shows how much of a pervert he is. I look at my suitcases. Uh oh… “Fuck i forgot in which suitcase I let my underwears…”

 He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll yell when I find them, and will not touch them.” Yeah, sure.

 “You’ll yell or get hard?” I ask in a jocular way, as I turn around and open the first suitcase.

 “I don’t get excited that easily dear, it’s not something new or anything.” Ugh, I don’t need to know his sexual life. And when will it stop giving me pet names? It get my hackles up… probably the only reason why he does it. He gets to another suitcase and starts to unpack.

 “Given that you jump on everything that moves, excuse me if I was wrong to think that.”

 “Ah, wrong again. I flirt with almost everything that moves, yes..” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

 “As long as it’s not with me.” I roll my eyes and start placing my clothes in the closet, a thought crossing my mind. He already did.

 “Don’t flatter yourself.” He’s denying? Good, because I am determined to do the same. “Having to touch those lips was bad enough.” Given the tone his voice, he must be smirking.

 “DON’T REMIND ME OF THAT THANK YOU.” I automatically scream, going back to the suitcase.

 He laughs. “Oh finally some leverage.”

 I take the first cloth in my suitcase and throw it at him. I start being done with him. “Fuck you.”

 He grabs it, and I realize it is panties. Oh fuck. He holds it with just a few fingers, far away from him. “You make it look more and more like you actually want that to happen.” He says, wrinkling his nose. I’m personally glad to see we are on the same wavelength about that. (Who knows with Brandon, he always wants to get the girl.) The situation still is very awkward though. I take the panties back quickly and can’t help my cheeks from blushing. “Certainly not.” I stumble, trying to keep a normal voice but totally fail.

 “Glad to hear so.” He coughs, which somehow reassures me. He feels as uncomfortable as me. “I think I’d better go. Homework and stuff..”

 “Homework ? Does it mean you even do something of your life?”

 “Yes. Yes I do. I don’t live to annoy just you, I have teachers and classmates for that too.” He looks almost tired by my constant barbs.

I think I surprise the both of us when I ask: “What do you study?” I gesture awkward. Everything is awkward now. Fuck. “Just curious.”

 “Geometry and trigonometry.”

 “Too much math. That’s boring.”

 He looks vexed by my comment. Sorry man, I’m just saying the truth. Maths are boring. “Oh yeah? What do you like, besides making out with guards while drunk and burning cars?” He answers. Why don’t people stop with that burnt car? I didn’t burn it damnit! If they want to underline how much crazy I am, they can find another of my exploits! There are a lot of them!

 “I didn’t burn the car, I told you.” If I repeat it enough, maybe he will stop with that. But probably not. He likes to do anything which could annoy me. Piece of shit. After a short pause, I answer his question. “I like medicine.” Maybe I enjoy too much his astonished face. You didn’t expect that piece of shit, huh? “You do? As in helping people?”

 I can’t help it and smile devilishly. “As in opening human bodies.” I laugh at his face.

 He shakes head. “Just when I thought you might be human…”

 “More seriously I like that medicine is real science that helps people. Not like physics or even math… it’s too much theory.” I explain, ignoring him. I am too lazy to make a speech about what makes me human, including my violence. Sorry innocent little Brandon, but mankind is violent, it’s not something exclusive at my family.

 “I can see your point yes..” He scratches back of head. Just when I started thinking the awkward moment was behind us. “It’s just all I do? I-I’ll find purpose some day.”

 “You’re older than me and have no purpose, that’s kind of sad.” I notice, but not to make fun of him for once. It’s just a statement.

 He looks hesitant, which intrigues me. “I know..I know..” He shakes his head. “I-I should go.” Is Brandon Jefford stuttering? I don’t know how to react at his sudden loss of confidence. This is not a behavior I am used to with him. I am not even used to having a normal conversation. As far as it is normal I guess…

 I look down at my stuff, not daring to face him. “Hum… yeah.” I gesture at the stuff on the bed, which has barely changed since he arrived. “You’re not really helping anyway.” I quickly add, trying somehow to get away with this weird situation. To get away with this weird feeling.

 “I don’t think you expected me to be any help.” He replies too seriously. Actually, yes. Why would I have asked him to help me if I didn’t? Pff… Idiot. “I’ll see you around I guess..” His shoulders slump as he turns around to walk away.

 “I’ll try to be a little quieter.” I say without thinking twice. “But I can’t promise anything.” I make a little smile, internally yelling at myself. Why the fuck am I trying to be nice with this piece of shit? Since when do I care about what he feels?

 “Don’t make promises you can’t keep right?” He grabs himself together and winks, but it isn’t natural.

 “I’m just promising I’ll try. Not that I’ll succeed.” If I am awake at 3 am and in the mood to practice my music, I’ll do it for sure. But… I guess I can wear headphones when I play video games… and try not to scream. Gosh the last part will be hard. Why did I say that, I’m supposed to be intelligent…

 “Good, good” He sounds more uncomfortable than ever, close to what I personally feel. “I’ll be uh next door. Bye Lex.”

 “Bye Bran- piece of shit.” Damnit, I was going to say his name. Rather die than I let it happen one day! I hear him chuckle as he walks away. I look at the panties I am still holding and throw them in the laundry basket. What an idiot.

January 5th

 I’ve been in the palace for two days, and it’s already a mess… at least in my bathroom. I opened all my vanity cases, threw everywhere my beauty products, breaking a cream pot in the process, and now it smells vanilla in the whole room (I buy everything with a vanilla scent, it’s my favorite perfume). Still. My shampoo is nowhere to be seen. I mean, yes I have shampoos, but not the ones I need. I grab a bottle of shampoo for dyed hair, wrinkling my nose. I am not hopeless enough to use that, certainly not. I look at the other bottles. My hair isn’t dry or greasy, I have no dandruff… I own all the shampoos for every capillary problem… except normal hair. I forgot normal hair. How could I forget normal hair, that’s the one I use the most! Then I remember that I finished the bottle Monday and just forgot to buy a new one before moving to the palace. I sigh. What do I do now? I won’t wash my hair with another shampoo type, no, rather shave it! I can’t ask Max, I always make sure she uses the assortment for curly hair. I won’t go out of the palace to buy some either, I will never have time to do my blow-dry before dinner. There is only one solution left. I have to borrow some to someone here. Hmm… who has normal shampoo in this palace? Probably a lot of people, they’re too stupid to take care of their hair correctly by buying the shampoo adapted to their hair type. Stupid stupid stupid… Of course! I have someone stupid just next to me! Brandon! This piece of shit must have normal shampoo! I immediately leave my room to go to his and knock on the door, impatient. “Hey piece of shit! I would need your help.” This last word should make him react for sure… but I get no answer and roll my eyes. I know he’s here, I heard him slam the door when he came back. And he is supposed to be the quiet neighbor… I open the door -not even locked, really an idiot. “You’re deaf or…” He’s laid on his bed, asleep. “Or just sleeping.” I sigh. Poor baby Brandon, so tired after his day at university. At the same time, he studies maths… really tiring indeed. He’s forgiven.

 I slam the door behind me, but still get no reaction from him, except some weird sounds. I raise my eyebrows. “I didn’t think you were a heavy sleeper.” I say aloud, even if he can’t hear. I get closer and climb on the bed, standing above him. I try to ignore his muscled body, visible even with his shirt. After watching probably too long, I eventually clear my throat and scream to him to wake up -of course I don’t forget the “piece of shit”. He screams a loud and non masculine “AAAH”, slamming around and falling out of his bed. I burst out laughing. The way he fell… I regret not to have filmed that. Now he’s on the floor, his blanket around him. His sleepy face is almost cute. Almost -I’m not ready to admit that Brandon Jefford can be cute, okay? Or even… hot.

 “What are you doing here?” He groans.

 I’m here to annoy you and take advantage of it to check you out at the same time. If I stop lying to myself, it’s the only reason why I chose to borrow his shampoo.

 “I need shampoo.” I only answer.

 He looks at my body and blushes. “Uhm…” I frown. What’s the problem? He doesn’t like that I am standing on his bed? He shakes his head. “Yes… I have that.” I ignore his weird tone and jump off the bed. “Cool!”

 “You sure you want to smell like me?” He asks getting up.

 I don’t really have the choice idiot. I can almost feel my hair begging to be washed.

 “I’m too lazy to go to Max’s room.” I lie. “And I hate her shampoo. Strawberry perfume, ugh.” Telling that is easier than explaining the differences between her shampoo and mine. And he’s a man.. how can he understand that?

 “No who would want something sweet huh?” He sighs and I notice he looks everywhere except at me. I stare at him, trying to guess what’s his problem with my body. I place my hands on my hips. “Are you okay?”

 “Uh.. yes of course! Don’t I look okay?” He makes a bright smile but it looks fake. I roll my eyes. “Nah you don’t look okay, you’re avoiding to look at me.”

 “I’m just uh respecting your choice of clothing by not staring?”

 I frown. What’s the problem with my choice of clothing? I wear that everyday… but he doesn’t see it. That’s the principle of underwears… I’m so used to walking around like that that I didn’t notice I was going to his room in underwears. “Ohhhhh.” I say when I understand. Then I shrug. “I wouldn’t mind if you looked.” It’s just a human body, man. Grow up a little. You saw other girls wearing less than that before me, and they were probably hotter. It’s nothing, really.

 “It’s weird.” He says, taking off his vest and throwing it at me. Men said a lot of things about my body, but I’ve never heard weird. Thank you Jefford for remembering me you are a piece of shit.

 I throw the vest away. “It’s too warm here.” I only answer, which isn’t even a lie. And I feel good dressed like that, I won’t put a vest on just because he doesn’t like it. “They don’t have air conditioning in this palace?”

 “No not really.” He walks over the bathroom. I follow him.

 “I feel like I’m roasting.” I go on.

 “Yes… you’re right, maybe I should open a window.” Finally he admits I’m right! It’s like hell here!

 “You should.” I agree.

 He throws me the shampoo -always so gentle- and walks over a window to open it quickly. I rub the top of my head with a grimace. I received the bottle on the head. He’s not even able to aim correctly.

 “Bran, have you seen your mo-” It’s Uncle Ray, who entered without being heard. He’s good at being discreet… and now he’s looking at us like we’re aliens.

 Brandon turns his head in the direction of his father’s voice. He’s as red as the bra I bought for Max.

 Uncle Ray blinks seeing me. “Oh no… I-Uh-” Always so good with words…

 I smile. “Hey Uncle Ray! How are you doing?”

 “A little uncomfortable at the moment.” He clears his throat. “Brandon?”

 Brandon groans and rubs his forehead. “She just walked in dad. I swear..”

 There’s something I don’t understand. I hate not understanding. What’s the fucking problem now? I probably said something aloud because Brandon gives me an angry glance. I keep my “fuck you” for me.

 “Brandon, do you have any idea what your mom… and Tracie…!”

 I frown and decide to finally ask what’s the problem. “Why would mom be involved? I just wanted shampoo.” I’m old enough to handle my hair problems without her… I am even the one who helps her with hers.

 Uncle Ray sighs. “You’re your mother’s child…”

 “It doesn’t sound like a compliment.” Being compared to her is rarely a compliment. They have been knowing her for years but sometimes she is just the psycho for them. I’ve always admired her but I guess not everybody does.

 “I wonder why..” Brandon says.

 “Fuck you.” Don’t insult my mother asshole. Yours eats brownies all day! That is not normal.

 “Just-” Uncle Ray starts. “I’ll walk away now.” He turns around shaking his head.

 “See at you at dinner!”

 “Uh yes, please change before then.” And he leaves without saying anything else. Once I’m sure he’s far away, I ask Brandon. “Why do I feel so lost?”

 He scratches the back of his head. “You feel lost? You?” He shakes his head, mumbling. “Oh never mind.” He goes back to the bedroom and picks up the vest I threw away.

 “A little bit, yes.” I answer following him. I prefer to ignore his last sentence.

 “Why?”

 “I don’t get what is the problem. Your father and you were acting so weird.”

 “You’re in your underwear!!!” He screams. What? It’s always that the problem? I’ll stop wearing them if they mind so much… pff.

 “And?”

 “I give up.”

 I roll my eyes at his behavior. “C’mon, you saw hundreds of girls in their underwears. It shouldn’t touch you so much.”

 He gets angry. “Hundreds?! So you’re trying to make fun of me or something?”

 I stay strangely calm when I answer, but I already know that it won’t last. The fight is coming. “No. I just exaggerated. Something I often do, in case you didn’t notice.”

 “Why not just wear clothes huh?” Because I was about to take my shower and was in underwears when I realized I didn’t have shampoo? “What is your point!” He exclaims.

 “I’m just saying you got many girlfriends. That’s all.”

 “Sure. Fine. Real original.”

 “I’m not trying to be original.”

 “Succeeded.”

 “You’re annoying.” I sigh. His anger just doesn’t make any sense.

 “So what? This is what we do? Annoying each other?” I hold back a “yes” as he goes on. “And you do that by walking around half naked?!”

 I finally start screaming. “I just came for shampoo! Why does it drive you so mad?!” If he wasn’t so complicated, I would be already gone and washing my hair!

 “You’re impossible!!”

 “You’re even more impossible!” I yell back.

 “Well if I dated so many girls, you’re more impossible than all of them!!”

 And now he has a problem with the fact I think he dated a lot of girls! He should rather feel proud! Is it not a compliment?

 “It’s not complicated, you never stay long enough with them to discover how a  pain in the ass they can be!”

 He gets closer to me. We’re face to face now. “I heard you are just as bad!”

 “I have good reasons! I doubt you do!”

 “What reasons?” He asks. “At least I stay friends with most of them!”

 Men are just selfish idiots who don’t care about hurting people, especially girls. Not getting too close just enables not to become one of this naive girls with a broken heart. And Brandon Jefford is on the top of the list. And he can still die to know that. I look down and ball my fists, and surprisingly, it makes him calm down. “Wha-what? I’m sorry Lex.. are you okay?”

 “You? Sorry?”

 He sighs. “I try?”

 “Then keep trying.” I say nastily, taking the shampoo. “I should go.”

 I think he didn’t expect me to clam up. I can hear regret in his voice when he replies. “Oh right, okay.. Good luck washing her hair?” He adds with embarrassment. If he thinks it will save the situation, he is kidding himself.

 “It won’t be difficult, my hair is short.”

 “My room is the closest.. If you wanna… you know talk or something.” It must be a surprising proposal coming from him, but I stay cold.

 “No thank you.”

 “No sure.. Good, I didn’t want to listen anyway.”

 “Fuck you.”

 He smiles, and somehow it makes me want to smile too. But then he says. “That works.” which makes me groan. “What works?”

 “Uh…” What lie is he preparing? “The shampoo! Great for volume, look at this!” He runs his hands through his hair. “Huh? Huh?”

 He looks so stupid that I can’t help but laugh lightly. “I’m not sure it works then.”

 He smiles. “See you at dinner, smelling like me.” He winks. Idiot. The smell of the conditioner will cover the one of the shampoo.

 “Pff…” I only say, and leave without waiting for an answer.

Few hours later, I am quietly painting my nails in pink, set on my bed. My hair is now brighting and perfectly brushed. I feel so much better.

Barbara is sleeping next to me, on a pillow. She loves big pillows like that. This dog is such a diva. Suddenly she raises her head and barks at the closed door, which opens on Max.

“I need to talk.” She says with a panicked voice. I blow on the hand I just paint and pat the bed with the other one. She comes there quickly, doing her awful puppy look. It’s almost impossible to resist to that face. That’s probably how she charmed all her exes…

“Do I need to kill someone?” I ask nonchalantly.

She rolls her eyes. “I need to talk, nothing more Lex.”

“Okay okay. Talk then.”

But as I still blow on my hand, nothing comes. She stays incredibly silent.

“Max?”

“I KISSED DANTE!” She screams out of nowhere. “Well… he kissed me…”

Oh fuck. I really didn’t need that. I look at my feet. The pedicure won’t be for now. I sigh and look up at her. “Tell me everything.”

January 10th

 “Where are you going?”

 Max enters my room. During two seconds, I hope it is actually Brandon, coming to annoy me or just to talk. I shake my head. I think about this idiot too often, I want to see this idiot too often. My twin raises an eyebrow, reading in me as always.

 “He’s not in the palace, even I know that.” She tells me.

 I frown. I know too, I heard him leave in the morning, probably to go to college.

 “Anyway, you didn’t answer. Where are you going?”

 She points my bag on the bed and the stuff in my hands. Curious Max is not what I need right now. I think it’s time for a distraction.

 “Have you talked to Dante yet?”

 She immediately blushes but looks maybe a little bit sad. “Uhm not since…”

 “Your drunk party. Got it.” I nod, smirking. I like teasing her about Dante. I noticed the glares she gave him few months ago. At the beginning, I used that as an once of the several reasons she should break up with Ken. “Max, you can’t have a crush on a guy who’s not your boyfriend!” And now… it’s a little bit more complicated. It’s still funny to make her blush about it, but they kissed  and I wonder if a serious relationship is possible for them. As long as she’s happy, I guess it’s okay… Even if this guy seems to be a mess. She always dates messes. And I always have to clean up after.

 “You aren’t avoiding him at least?” I ask, putting a grenade in my bag while she’s looking somewhere else.

 “I can’t avoid someone who stays in his room all day long.”

 Thanks for this answer, Max. You’re avoiding him.

 “And I can’t avoid someone who’s not there either.” I say. She perfectly knows who I am talking about. Oh fuck, she’s gonna ask questions. Time to disappear. I take my bag. Damn, I didn’t think it would be so heavy. “See you… probably tomorrow.”

 She crosses her arms and blocks the door. I sigh. I don’t need stubborn Max either.

 “Are you going outside without me?” She looks shocked. I understand. I would be already screaming if she was leaving the palace to do a dirty trick in town without me. But she just can’t go with me this time.

 “Yep. Take care of Barbara for me.” My French bulldog raises her head from her basket, hearing her name, and barks. Stupid dog. I wanted her to bark at Brandon’s door to wake him up but all she can do is sleep and eat. I feel like I own the dog version of Max.

 My sister squints. “I’ll have my revenge.”

 “There are more chances Dante takes you to a date than it happens.” I laugh and get out of my room.

 “I hate you, Alexis!” Max screams.

 I wave at her and disappear in the corridors.

 I look at the tree I have to climb. How will I do that with my small and non muscled body? I shake my head and adjust my backpack. Max should stop dating weird guys. Every time I have to get revenge for her. I don’t know how I succeed, but I climb that stupid tree, with the skin of my hands all grazed. I ignore the pain and sit on a large branch, taking my binoculars. From where I am, I have a great view on Ken’s bedroom. The asshole is there, working at his desk. He can work, surprising. He doesn’t look in my direction, good. I take the grenade in my bag. I hope I won’t miss my launch, I have only one chance. Okay, Lex, you can do it. I pull the pin out of the grenade and throw it through his window, luckily open. I watch the gas contained in the grenade spill in his room. In ten seconds, he’ll be sleeping like a baby. I smile when I see him fall against his desk.

 “Thank you so much, Mom.” I say out loud. She creates great weapons. I just hope she didn’t notice that a sleeping grenade was missing before she left for Swendway.

  I wrinkle my nose when a thought suddenly crosses my mind.

  HOW WILL I GET DOWN OF THIS TREE NOW?

  I look down at the grass. Goodness, this is so high. I take a deep breath. Okay Lex. You climbed until here. So you can go down. I look into the bag, praying to find the grappling iron. Obviously I forgot it. I curse and wrap my arm around the trunk. I don’t really have the choice anyway. Or I call 911 and I explain what I was doing here. Hm… I already dealt too much with the police. Let’s climb down and hope not to die.

  I successfully climb down, until the last two meters. Or maybe three meters. Anyway, I break a branch and miserably fall on the ground, obviously on the ass. I insult all the mothers of the world while I rub my poor ass. Probably flattened until my death.

  I stop complaining and take the binoculars again, turning on the thermal view to check the inside of the house. There’s nobody except Ken. Good.

  I unlock their main door with a credit card and enter, half disappointed. It’s so easy that it’s getting a little boring.

  I go upstairs and look for the bathroom. Quickly find it and seek for an electric razor. Go to his room and smirk at his thick hair, laid on the desk.

  The revenge may start.

On my way back to the palace, hours later, I can’t help but sing softly, feeling light. I did what I had to do for Max. And now I know for sure that he won’t stalk her or something.

  I feel so light that I don’t notice that he comes back at the same time as me. I scream when he appears in the middle of the bushes. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

  “Shhhhhhuuuuuuussssshhhh” He says, looking a bit tipsy. “I just had a little fun.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “A little fun, that’s right.” Can’t be as fun as my fun though.

  “You?” He gives me a nudge.

  “Got my revenge on someone.” I answer coldly. He doesn’t need to know more. Every time I see him, he finds a way to make me tell something I wouldn’t usually.

  “What did you do now?” He laughs.

  “You don’t need to know.”

  “You never tell me anything huh?”

  “Because I feel like it’s a bad idea to tell you things.” I answer honestly.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  I do, that’s all the problem.

  “I don’t trust myself.”

  “What? Why?”

  Because I am talking to you and enjoying it piece of shit.

  “If I tell you something, I can’t help telling something else, until you know things I don’t want anyone to know.” I don’t know what makes me so direct tonight. I don’t watch my words like I usually do when someone is around. I am close to confide things to him to be honest. Things I keep secret. But I don’t mind as much as I should.

  “You burned a car and I know that. How bad can it be?”

  Why does he keep bringing the burning car story?

  “I didn’t burn any car.”

  “Right.” He looks down. “Sorry.”

  “But… I maybe got my revenge from the one who did it.” I say before thinking, a smile strangely playing on my lips.

  “That’s awesome!” He shouts, raising a hand for a high five. “I mean… Uh kinda cool?”

  The smile grows up. “That’s incredible.”

  He keeps his hand raised, waiting for that high five. He looks pathetic.

  “Why would you deserve a high five?” I tease. “I did it on my own.”

  “Rude! I wanted to celebrate with you!”

  I roll my eyes and raise my hand.

  “Yes!” He exclaims, now looking like a happy puppy.

  “You’re an idiot.” But I make the high five.

  “Won’t deny it.” A curious light appears in his eyes. “So what did you do to the guy?”

  With a sigh, I tell him the story.

  And a lot more.

  I need approximately two days to understand that he is avoiding me.

  When he first ran away after that night, I didn’t mind, too happy that I didn’t have to face him after what I told him, after I cried in his arms, after I showed him my weakness. I was secretly thanking him for that, I needed time to think alone.

  I figured that Brandon Jefford made me like him.

  When he avoided to look at me during the dinner, while I was right next to him, it arranged me. I was too afraid to stupidly blush like a thirteen-year-old girl with her first crush if he looked at me. He left the table before everyone, and I watched him disappear, wondering how I could have such mixed feelings for him, powerful and frightening at the same time.

  I figured that Brandon Jefford made me fall for him.

  When I went to his room and knocked on his door, I was way too hopeful. The shampoo I was holding was just an excuse to talk to him, to see his damn charming smile again. Seeing he wasn’t answering to my knocking, I turned the doorknob, ready to enter on my own. But it was locked. I frowned and looked down… and saw his shadow under the door. I dropped the shampoo. He didn’t want to see me, or to have anything to do with me. I stepped back until I was leaning against the wall, and let myself slump on the carpet of the corridor, the warm tears burning my cheeks as they rolled down.

  I figured that Brandon Jefford made my heart break into pieces.