#also made his hair much thinner than it should be but thats okay

[hazyupset]

you DONT underSTAND my vision look at my stanley look at him. LOOK AT HIM.

[misscricket]

Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Canders (Carver Hawke / Anders)

Rating: R for Smut

Prompt: @dankou ‘You’re Hot When You’re Mad’.

Request: You can request a pairing here for Carver smut prompts.

AO3 Link HERE

Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

The doors to the Hanged Man crashed open.

Instantly everyone in the tavern looked up, and took in the sight of the dark haired man standing in the double doorway, arms still outstretched and a grin on his handsome face. Most of the patrons recognised him as Garrett Hawke and looked away again, some rolling their eyes at the man’s drama.

Behind him, another dark haired man followed, sighing as he did.

“Must you do that?”

“Course I do, little brother,” Garrett grinned back at him as they made their way across the common room floor and up the stairs to Varric’s private suite, “Hello darlings!” he caroled as he crossed the threshold, spreading his arms again, “Daddy’s home! And look what the mabari dragged in!”

Carver pulled a horrified face behind his back, and slowly slipped into the room behind him.

“Carver!” Isabela waved at him with a wink, “My, my, the Wardens have done wonders with you.”

Beside her Varric chuckled, but nearby Fenris stood up abruptly, “Good,” he barked, voice sharp with annoyance, and for a moment Carver felt disappointment stab through him. Fenris had never seemed to like him, despite his best efforts. He’d hoped things might change, now that he was coming back as a Warden. But then the elf continued, “You can talk to him .”

There was a world of venom in his voice when he spat that word, and Carver blinked, before stepping further into the room to take in the shape of Anders sitting across the table from the irate elf.

“Oh Maker, do I have to?”

A corner of Fenris’ lips quirked up, “Yes. It is your punishment for making your brother worry about you. Sit.”

Carver elected to ignore the comment about his brother, who was currently tapping his fingers on Merrill’s shoulders, while she grinned up at him, and slowly made his way over to take Fenris’ place across the table.

Anders looked older than the last time he’d seen him, more cares worn into his face, and his golden eyes seemed to have lost some of their brightness. He also looked thinner, and Carver shot a glare at his brother. Surely he must have noticed…

“Let me guess.” he turned back to Anders, and smirked faintly, “You were talking about Mages.”

“Of course we were!” Anders scowled at him, “He can’t see how the situation of the Mages here is akin to slavery.”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Except...it isn’t.”

Anders’ eyes locked onto him, and there was a bit more life in his face, and his eyes.

“Andraste’s arse, are you still so bitter about your brother that you can’t look at the reality of the situation!”

Carver felt the old irritation flare, but instead he leaned back in his seat.

“No, I just think you have a terrible habit of using gross simplification to try and emotionally manipulate people into feeling pity for you.”

Anders’ feathers seemed to bristle with profound rage, and nearby, Carver saw Fenris shoot him a thoughtful look.

“How can you-?” Anders spluttered.

“Easily,” Carver leaned forward, “Look I don’t think the Circle is perfect. And the Templar Order is definitely not. And change does need to happen, you’re right about that much at least. But the fact of the matter is that just chucking the Mages out on their own, or treating them as everyone else is...well its stupid.”

“Your brother…”

“Was trained by my father.” Carver interrupted, firmly, “Who was Circle trained and knew exactly what to expect from young children discovering their magic.”

And they had me, he thought silently, the old anxiety clutching his chest before he pushed it ruthlessly away. He was a Warden now, he was no longer the one tasked with that...burden.

“The Templars could have dragged your father and your siblings to the tower.” Anders insisted, “You never would have seen them again. They might have been made Tranquil.”

“It’s not perfect.” Carver leaned back, “But the Templar order is something that in essence is needed. They are supposed to protect the mages...and protect from them as well. But with everything...it can so easily be corrupted by men with their own ideas. Men will always abuse high ideals to get what they want. But that doesn’t make the ideal wrong.”

Anders spluttered at him, and Isabela whistled softly, “Look who’s all grown up…” She leaned in with a wicked grin, “Who knew debating Mage theology could be so….stimulating.”

Carver shook his head at her, and turned back to Anders, who launched into his counter argument. Which Carver zoned out to after a single second because...sodding hell…

There was something about Anders. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, which was already something that Carver liked. He wasn’t pretty, he wasn’t cute...he was however...rather attractive. Especially with his golden eyes flaring with passion, and his lips slowly reddening from the agitated swipes of his tongue.

Something about him had always gotten under Carver’s skin.

At first it had been irritation at how quick Anders started fawning over his bloody brother. Then it had been rage at his casual references to Bethany...focusing only on the part of her that interested him. Her magic. She had been so much more...and he’d...well he’d reacted poorly.

So there was no love lost between them, but still...

It was unfair how attractive he found him. He liked the glimpses of a man behind his mission of Mage freedom, liked the cheeky humour and the flashing grins.

He was sodding gorgeous, and that always made Carver uncomfortable, because he didn’t have Garrett’s easy charm. He couldn’t say something witty and make it sound dashing. He was clumsy and awkward...and despite his friends in the Wardens helping him with it...he still found himself floundering more often than he could like.

So he’d resigned himself to staying quiet about it.

And he opened his mouth to give Anders a rebuttal.

But what came out of his mouth was,

“You’re kind of gorgeous when you’re mad.”

Anders spluttered to a stop and gaped at him. Fenris choked on his wine and Isabella yelped, tumbling off her chair.

Oh Maker…

Internally he felt the panic rising, and so he quickly stood and scooped up his tankard. “I’d better get another drink.”

“Hey!” Varric yelled after him as he beat a quick retreat out of the door, “That’s mine! Junior! Sodding hells…”

He thunked the tankard onto the counter and sighed softly, before gesturing for another one, “Fill both of them up please…”

“What the hell did you mean by that?”

Carver whipped around and gaped at Anders, who stood behind him, arms folded and a frown on his handsome face, “Anders…”

“What did you mean?” Anders growled, “Did you actually mean it or were you...being cruel?”

“Cruel?” Carver blinked at him in surprise, “Maker’s hairy ballsack why would I be cruel?”

“You...oh...you meant it then?”

Carver gave him a disbelieving look, “Yeah, I meant it...Didn’t mean to say it...but the contents...yeah that I meant.”

Anders’ tongue swiped out over his lips again, “So...I’m gorgeous when I’m mad?”

“You’re gorgeous all the time...well all the time you take care of yourself.” He plucked at the other’s coat, “Like, what the hell is this? You’re all skin and bones, Magey.”

Anders’ batted his hands away with a huff, “I’m not skin and bones,”

“You like hunted.” Carver informed him bluntly, “I know what that looks like now. And I also know how much food a Warden needs to eat in order to stay healthy. You are not eating enough.”

“Maker’s breath you fuss as much as Hawke does. Is that how you lot share affection? Fussing someone to death?”

Carver shot Anders a deadpan look and slowly dragged his eyes up the other man’s body, enjoying the flush that sprung up on his pale cheeks.

“Looks more like our fussing is stopping you from dying…” He shot the other a smug smirk, “Magey.”

“Stop that,” Anders scowled, and folded his arms, “We’re getting off track. You think I’m gorgeous.”

“When you’re mad.” Carver agreed, scooping up the new tankard and gulping down a mouthful before the taste hit him and he nearly gagged, “Holy balls of fire thats…” he caught Norah’s eye and wilted, “...good stuff.”

Anders laughed, and Carver turned back to look at him, “You’ve grown up a lot...but you’re still you. I’m glad to see the Wardens haven’t squashed the good parts of you yet.”

Carver frowned and shook his head, “See I don’t get it. You speak of them...with such bitterness. But when I ask them about you…”

Anders’ face crumpled slightly and for a second a painful vulnerability shone through, “They pity me, or hate me for betraying them.”

Carver stared at him, “You’re kidding right? Fucksakes Anders…”

“What?” the blond man blinked at him, “What?”

“They miss you.” Carver said firmly, and clearly, so the man couldn’t misunderstand a word, “They get this sad look, and they talk about you with such fondness. Cousland said she almost had a mutiny on her hands when you left. The others wanted to go after you, bring you back, make sure you were okay and safe. But she insisted they weren’t the Templar order, she didn’t want you caged. ‘If Anders needs us’” he quoted, “‘We’ll be there. He’ll always have a place with the Wardens.”

Anders’ face did something complicated, “You...really?”

Carver nodded and Anders looked away, and the pair of them lapsed into silence, not looking at each other as Carver drank again, fingering Varric’s tankard.

“I should um…-”

“Come back to the clinic with me.”

Carver blinked owlishly at the other man, “You what?”

Anders scowled but folded his arms, “Come back to the clinic. With me. And get naked.” When Carver simply blinked again, Anders rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t pop loose, “With. Me.”

“Oh!” Carver put down his tankard and flushed darkly at the offer and the implication, “Oh...you want to...with me?”

“You are hopeless at this.” Anders informed him, before curling a hand into Carver’s black tunic, yanking him close with a grunt, “Andraste’s ninnyknickers…”

“Ninnyknickers?” Carver snickered, “I think you just like making those up to scandalise people, you and Isabela both.”

Anders’ eyes crinkled in the corners.

“I admit nothing. Now...are you coming with me?”

Carver nodded and pushed his tankard to the side. Anders’ smile brightened even more, and for a moment Carver amused himself with the thought that Anders looked like the cat that had gotten the milk, or bird, he’d wanted.

Together they hurried out of the Hanged Man, neither of them hearing Varric’s outraged splutter as he had to come down to the bar to retrieve his tankard.

~*~

No sooner had they made it back to the clinic than Anders had Carver pressed against the door, golden eyes smouldering.

“This wasn’t how I thought tonight was going to go,” the Mage informed him, and Carver barked a nervous laugh.

“You think this was in my plans Magey?”

Anders’ white teeth flashed in the torchlight and then he leaned in. Carver held his breath in anticipation but just a breath away from his lips, Anders paused.

“Something wrong?” Carver whispered, suddenly struck with insecurity, “I um...if this isn’t what you want…”

“Shut up, Carver,” Anders chuckled softly, and his hand lifted to gently brush along Carver’s jaw, “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?” Carver asked, confused and edging towards insulted.

“How gorgeous you are, here in my clinic, looking at me like that.”

The insulted feeling melted away instantly and Carver, ducked his head in embarrassment.

Unfortunately he did it at the exact moment Anders leaned in to kiss him.

“OW!” Anders yelped and Carver’s head snapped up, having felt the sharp bonk of his forehead against Anders’ nose, and saw the healer pinching the offending appendage, “Bwudy hell, Barva.”

“Sorry, shit….sorry!” Carver quickly snagged the bandage he always carried in his pocket and wadded it gently against Anders’ nose, stemming the bleeding, “Fucksakes….”

Anders burst into nasal laughter and a moment later he batted Carver’s hands away as pale blue magic misted over his nose, fixing it instantly, “You are a disaster.”

“That is what they tell me.” Carver sighed, “I’ll show myself out.”

“Carver…” Anders’ hand gently pushed his shoulder, sending his back thudding softly against the wood of the clinic door once more, “I want this. I don’t know how much clearer I can be that I want this…”

“Still?” Carver licked his lips and groaned softly as Anders’ golden eyes locked onto that movement hungrily, “Oh, okay...yeah...still…”

The blond leaned in, fingers slowly undoing the laces on Carver’s breeches.

“Also...clarification,” Anders murmured, lips a breath away from his once more, “I enjoy a quick tumble...but this...oh I’m going to savour you.”

Carver groaned, and next moment he was kissing Anders.

His hands lifted to gently cradle the Mage’s head, thumbs lightly caressing his jaw as he tilted the other’s chin up, deepening the kiss.

Inexperienced he was, but kissing...oh he’d done a bit of kissing. One of his warden associates had even called them toe-curling. And Anders definitely seemed to approve, because he moaned into Carver’s mouth, and leaned into him, warm and wanting.

“You’re full of surprises, Warden Hawke.” Anders purred against his lips as the kiss broke, and Carver groaned, kissing his way down the other’s neck, wrestling with the coat and tunic underneath, “Pity you’re such a little shit...that mouth of yours is magic otherwise.”

Carver laughed against his neck and bit sharply, enjoying the yelp it elicited, “Like you can talk Anders.”

“True...we should form a...club.” there was a note of wistfulness in his voice, a longing deeper than what they were doing, and Carver pulled back slightly to look at his face.

Anders looked a little unsettled, unsure, and so Carver gently brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, and then sank to his knees, “Want me to use my bratty mouth in a more useful way, Magey?”

Instantly, hunger ignited in Anders’ golden eyes once more, and his long, deft, elfroot stained hands, gently carded through Carver’s black hair.

“Maker, yes.”

Carver grinned, and undid Anders’ breeches, considerably less deftly than the Mage had done with his, and tugged the mage free of his small clothes, enjoying the sound that the action drew from the man above him.

He’d done this before, twice, and had enjoyed it, but there was something about this time, something about Anders, that made Carver extra determined to make him go weak at the knees.

So he leaned in and slowly ran his lips along him, feathering his tongue against the warm, soft skin, while he also grasped the mage with his other hand. Anders wasn’t the largest man he’d been with, but he was quite long, and Carver’s hand wrapped around him in a way that was profoundly satisfying.

Apparently it was also satisfying to the blond man above him, as the action earned a truly wanton sound. It made Carver grin against him, and then take Anders deep into his mouth, fingers peeling away as he bobbed, smirking at the noises the actions elicited.

“Carver…”

He’d never get tired of hearing his name on Anders’ lips, especially with that little hitch of breath, the catch of pleasure in his voice.

Carver turned all his considerable focus onto Anders, determined to make the man melt, and it didn’t take long, by Warden standards anyway, for Anders to begin shivering against him, those long elegant fingers tugging at his hair.

“Carver...Maker...I’m…please…”

Carver smirked, thrilled to having reduced the mouthy mage to a few spluttered, moaned words, and sucked sharply.

Instantly Anders’ knees gave way, and Carver held him up, with his strong arms wrapped snugly around his thighs.

“Carver!” Anders’ voice was a wail of pleasure, and the young Grey Warden smiled as he felt the mage reach the edge and tumble over it. Carefully he swallowed around him, until Anders’ noises became discomforted ones, too sensitive for him to continue his ministrations. Gently he lifted the mage and staggered them over to Anders’ private room, small and dark and windowless and musty. But it had a bed, and that was what he tumbled them onto, in a great sprawl of limbs.

Instantly Anders wrapped himself around Carver, nosing at his neck sleepily, “You haven’t...I need to.”

Carver looked down at the mage, and saw the exhaustion in every line of his body, the way his eyelids could barely even crack open, and how utterly boneless he was. Although he was hard as a rock, he smiled, and gently carded his fingers through Anders’ fine blond hair.

“That’s okay Magey, you get some sleep.”

“S’bad sex manners.” Anders mumbled, already halfway to the Fade.

Carver chuckled and kissed his lips softly, “I’m sure we’ll do this again. You can make it up to me then.”

“Stay…” Anders breathed, before he drifted off into sleep, a smile on his lips.

Leaving Carver, aching, but with a deep, warm feeling of satisfaction simmering in his chest.

“I’ll stay.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Anders’ feeling the too thin knobbles of his spine, “Someone has to look after you Magey.”

And he determinedly did not think about the packet of orders waiting for him in his room back at the manor. He could take a week or two here in Kirkwall surely…

...after that…

Well…

Who knew.

[lovelymaybankk]

cant do anything - jj maybank

req: no

#1 angst: I can’t do anything right

w.c: 1.641

tw: mentions of abuse, death, swears, mentions of beer & drugs

a/n: i love jj sm. and im dying my hair pink tehe. also this ones in lowercase bc im lazy. this is rlly bad

it wasn’t odd for jj and y/n to sleepover anywhere but their own houses. they both dealt with their own fair share of shit, desperately doing anything to never be home. though they never talked about it, they knew they were both going through the same things. y/n would have bruises around her hips and ribs, while jj normally had them on his stomach or even around his spine. 

so currently, the two were laid out on the dock beside john b’s house. they were silent, jj sitting up first. its been atleast two weeks since jj had even seen his father. and even though he was a dick, no matter how hard he would try he still found love somewhere in his heart for the man. y/n glanced at him, wondering why he had gotten up. so she matched his sitting position, but instead faced the boy.

“what’s wrong?” y/n asked, legs crossing as her hands went to her knees. she looked peaceful, brushing hair behind her ear.

“i should go home.” jj sighed, not wanting to but he needed to see how his father was. honestly, he knew he shouldn’t go home. he should go as far away from home as possible. but something in him told him he needed to go home. there was a pit in his stomach that he couldn’t explain, using his hands to push himself up and off of the dock.

y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, again matching the boy and standing. “what?” she asked, looking at the taller as if he had two heads. jj shrugged, letting out a heavy sigh. he knew what y/n would say, ‘you’re crazy, hes insane!’ but jj turned on his heel, not responding to his best friend.

y/n trailed behind him, basically interrogating the boy, “i have a bad feeling.” jj finally responded, going inside the chateau. the girls head shook, letting a breath out she didn’t know she was holding. 

“you’re probably just hungry. you haven’t eaten recently,” y/n commented, grabbing the boys bicep to stop him. he shook out of her grip, opening the door to the empty room where they had been staying.

“jj,” y/n sighed, leaning against the door frame as she watched her best friend grab his bikes helmet. “you know what hes gonna do.” they had an unspoken rule, never bring up the others home life. the comment that she made made jj stop, looking at her with angry eyes. 

“you don’t know shit.” jj snarled, but she did. they both knew what was going to happen. he pushed past her, shoes clicking loudly on the wooden floorboards. 

john b entered the house from the deck, staying silent as he watched his two best friends seemingly argue. his arms crossed, tutting to himself as he left to leave them by themselves.

“yes, i do.” y/n argued, now getting angry. he had never wanted to go home, but now he did? “i know your dad.” she seethed, chasing jj as he left the house and walked to his bike.

“god, y/n. lay off. alright? i don’t have a good feeling. i’ll be back soon, holy shit.” jj snapped, putting on the helmet as he sat on the motorbike. y/n stopped a few feet away. 

“ok.” she huffed, watching him speed off. y/n rolled her eyes, turning and going to meet the rest of the group on the deck. “that boy is gonna kill himself.” she took a seat beside kie, arms crossing.

“what happened?” pope questioned, leaning back and crossing his arms. y/n shrugged, not even knowing to be honest. one minute they were fine, next minute y/n cared to much and jj got all prissy on her.

jj drove angrily to his house, not even knowing why it mattered. y/n had pissed him off, asking to many questions. he hates questions. especially from the girl who he loves. likes. he never accepted his feelings, face heating up at the thought of loving her. without knowing, he sped up, taking a sharp turn into his driveway and stopping. 

why had he come home? jj’s breath shortened, stopping the bike and getting off. his foot tapped against the dirt below him, tossing down the helmet. he slowly walked towards the house, entering quietly. “dad?” jj called out, trying to stay silent.

no answer. the next thing jj knew, he was walking into the living room. his breath stopped. his dad was on the couch, empty beer bottles discarded around him. normally, he would think he passed out. but his chest laid still, body looking almost pale. jj knew what happened. his heart felt like it stopped.

his dad. the piece of shit he grew up. his only guardian. was dead. on their couch. jj fell to the ground, knees shaking. he couldn’t breathe. everything felt numb.

it had been two weeks since the group had seen jj. over time, everybody just became more than nervous. so today, they finally decided to see him.

john b got out of the van first, his heart beating in his ears. he slammed on the door, not caring if jj’s dad heard him. “jj!” he screamed, hands turning red from how hard he was hitting the door.

y/n wasn’t far behind, putting her hand on john b’s shoulder. the other two followed them, hearing shuffling behind the door. the door swung open, revealing a definitely high jj. they all let out a breath, y/n pushing past john b and wrapping her arms around  the taller. he shrugged her off, looking at her with confusion.

“hey guyss,” jj slurred, almost falling over. he seemed thinner. had he been eating?

“oh jj,” kie let out a soft sob, doing what y/n had done and hugging him. but only, she wasn’t shrugged off. y/n felt a heartache, body seeming to shake. “where the fuck have you been?” kie pulled out of the hug, feeling the stares from her friends.

jj shrugged, opening his arms to show the messy house. “here.” he continued to slur, bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open.  “when i came homee..” he struggled with words, eyes tearing up at the though of the memory. “i had a baaaddddd feelin’.” the pogues could barely tell what he was saying. 

“and i was riht.” jj muttered, rubbing his eyes. “my dad died.” he said in a soft voice, and everybody stopped. the air went thick. of course, the drunk boy didn’t notice. he fell over onto the floor, john b quick to move and grab him.

hours later, jj woke up from his slumber. his head pounded, ears ringing. everything around him was fuzzy, he could just barely make out a figure infront of him. as his eyes refocused, he noticed the figure to be y/n. he sat up immediately, running his hands through his hair as he watched girl slumped over herself, head handing low as she seemed to be asleep.

as jj moved, y/n woke up quick. “holy shit,” she let out a heavy breath, hands shaking as she got up to hug him. jj leaned into the touch, staying silent as he listened to her breathing. “i thought you died.” y/n mumbled, concern growing for the boy. he didn’t seem to be high or drunk anymore.

“i’m sorry,” jj didn’t want to let his emotions get the best of him. but watching his dad get taken away two weeks ago, leaving him alone left him broken. he didn’t want to be fixed. he barely ate during those two weeks, drinking mainly vodka and beer, abusing the powers of weed and his juul. he wasn’t healthy, but again, he didn’t want to be fixed.

“i just- i was so worried.” y/n stayed in the hug, refusing to let go. she pulled away after a few minutes, sitting at where his feet were. “why didn’t you tell us?” she questioned softly, hand resting on where the boys calf was.

“i felt so weak.” jj admitted, his stomach churning. “i just- i couldn’t move. i couldn’t talk. i should’ve-” he finally broke down, the happy face that y/n remembered hadn’t been there for two weeks. tears quickly ran down his face, pooling at the chin before dropping onto his shirt and soaking it. “i can’t do anything right. if i wasn’t such a fuck up this wouldn’t have happened.” jj sobbed, hands covering his face as his knees pulled to his chest.

jj couldn’t breathe. his breath shortened, his heart seemed to speed up. y/n moved quickly, cooing softly at the boy as she pulled him into a hug. they stayed like that for a little, y/n comforting the boy as he let out all of his emotions until he felt empty. he stopped crying, rubbing his eyes.

“are you okay?” y/n asked, her hand going onto his knee. he stayed silent, and from that she knew her answer. “jj, im gonna be honest. i was worried sick. the moment you stormed out i was so confused, maybe even heartbroken.” she let out a soft, sad chuckle. jj pulled his head up, connecting their eyes. “you’ve always been there for me. you mean the world to me in ways i don’t think you fully understand. i have to say this now.” she wanted to distract the boy, because thats what she was best at, “i love you.” y/n looked in his eyes for any emotion, but she couldn’t tell what he was feeling.

jj grabbed her cheeks with his hands, pulling her close and closing the small gap between them. y/n was shocked, but soon leaned into the touch. 

jj’s mind was occupied, realizing. shit, i coulda been doin this longer?

[keuncats]

Valak Feat. Millie "Freak" Official Lyrics & Meaning | Verified

its hilarious when people try to overanalyze because they think its something very private of my life, but like, i don't even write my own songs. just like: nice guess, wrong person.

i have that mindset that, as an artist, and especially as a performer, that i want to experiment with every music style that people can come up for me. i'm very polar, is that the word? i don't want to people ask me what type of music i make, cause i just want to make all.  i don't work in the area of production, i'm terrible to remember lyrics imagine even write them down, and i'm lazy to make beats, but i like this way cause i can work with different people all the time. when they give me a song, i learn the words i make my own assumptions of what is about, and i think thats the beauty of making different genres each time cause it gives me a sense of perspective of things that i didn’t know. i think that people might be disappointed that i'm not here to talk about my ballads, i'm not sorry about it cause they are very melancholic, i just wasn't feeling of talking about the time my boss and his wife were in a break and that one song still existed. and also i think freak is that one song that it made justice to the name valak and what my energy as a person portraits of. since trainee times my nickname was demon.

My patience running thinner on this melting clock Cerebrum jailed with thoughts most would consider rot To think you're any different from an animal A creature, sick, as you should be put down But I can't help myself

what i like the most about these songs, besides the fact that it gives me a vibe of sexual frustration, is that it talks about human nature more than anything else.  is since the evolution about human in the begging of the creation to now living in as a society, in which people are more likely buried down and hiding their feelings, their thoughts, wishes, and even mental health, something that was born, and feeling shame with all that because there is a lot of people who gonna judge for it. for fuck sakes people still put people down to try to exist.

Please, don't hide your imperfections Nature took two tries to make the man in white

this can go biblical or not. i don't fucking know how the world started, but if you are religious you know that some shit happens with baby jesus and his fellows and the guy even had to put them in a cross because they were saying he did something wrong? sorry if i'm wrong, but if jesus never had a flaw, someone in that book had it, and if they said that was wrong, fuck that.  if you don't believe in religion, i mean, before we had this body, the world was full of monkeys, the difference between them and us is scoliosis and less hair. people are just not perfect, it might come as a shook cause i'm might be the third million person to tell that, it is just facts and i think people are cooler when they are themselves completely than anything else.

No, I don't mind, you are a beauty Not temptation, you're my creation

temptation is just a stupid labeling natural instinct, especially when it doesn't have a negative side of it. for example, i met my wife when i was seeing someone else, maybe people still not forgive me for cheating, for some might be the negative side of what i'm saying, but just felt attracted to her at that time, even if was something that people think that i could hold and my actions are more "politically correct" or whatever, i'm not ashamed of my actions. everything i felt for her it was on me and i didn't want to laid back or whatever. now i'm married and having an amazing life still. sue me. again.

Freak o' Friday night, know I'm the main attraction Basket acrobat, they wanna see some action Tinkering with my design, twist and tame my feral mind Play with me 'til you've found another toy

i didn't sing this quite well as millie, i'm sorry about that. hm, i like making featuring songs with women more than men, not there is something i hate doing, i just think a female voice adds so much more to it. its i don't more pleasant to listen to? and when i first listen the song, i knew that this part would be a woman, cause me singing this verse just sounds creepy, but millie singing you can hear her being very confident and sassy. i never properly met her before this collaboration, i just knew that even with a lot of amazing female singers in my company i wanted someone fresh, someone that people would be surprised knowing about this type of project. millie is part of attik, i listen to their songs and saw some performances as we are touring sometimes, i don't think they never did a concept that it was sexy or anything like, so i knew she would be a perfect fit for this part. and as person, we actually had lunch to talk about the song,  she is such nice girl, and an amazing professional and she was willing to do good for the song, which i believe she did in the first tried, and yeah it was nice to meet her and sorter being friends with her cause she is nice.

Let me be your freak show, I could be your favorite monster Rattle my whole cage, remind me why I can't be fostered Let me be your freak show, I could be your favorite monster Lock me up, don't let me out 'cause you know I can't help myself

thats my favorite part of the song. i just wanted to pause to say that.  

You're wasting, you're wasting all Of your time finding a cure when there's no disease You're wasting, you're wasting all Of your talent on an audience that sees a freak

fuck, get freaked on. do it. just do it. don't waste your time. or boy. just c'mon. don't be ashamed of having foot fetish, if its something it that turns un on, go forward it, buy some foot pictures. seriously. i saw a documentary once about sex and kinks, and there some morbid stuff on there, some even looks wrong it came to be historical, i don't remember exactly what they said entirely. they just example a lot about your inner self and wishes and its not something to be shameful in your mind process some imaginary scenery that it gives you pleasure, in reality, you might not be interested in it, but still, just whatever. don’t be scare to be a freak in a lot of ways.

Welcome to our freak show, come meet my monsters Oh, such a fine collection of stranger things

at this point, i think you guys all get it. its my time to go now. my name is valak and that was my point of view about this damn song. now i think i might hate it .if you don't feel this, its okay. if i said something problematic, cancel me, would be not my first time. happy halloween.

[returntopelon]

Pam

My brother has always been my closest friend. He is easily the most loving and genuine person I have ever met and is loved by pretty much everyone he meets. Despite this, he hasn't been in many relationships. I think its partly due to the fact that he's a very "all or nothing" type of guy. When he falls he falls DEEPLY and BLINDLY. A blessing and a curse, I guess.

Anyway, the few girlfriends he's had, I've known quite well, despite being nearly 8 years younger than him. Most of them have been nice, normal, pleasant girls, with the exception of a few. We had high hopes that he'd settle in with a long term, wonderful girlfriend as he entered his adult life. We had no idea we'd spend 6 years sharing a hell with him, our family and our close friends, all by the hands of one girl. I'll call her Pam.

I met Pam when I was 11, my brother 19, and she was 17, graduating High School. I remember being surprised to have him introduce her right off the bat as his girlfriend, since neither my parents of I had heard anything about her. But, she was kind, warm, an honor student and beautiful. I admired her immediately.

For the first year of their relationship, Pam never seemed off. She was always happy, always kind and always had good stories to tell. She and I grew closer, as she seemed eager to bond with me and it was like having an older sister. We shared many of the same interests and friendship came easy between she and I, as I was mature for my age and she was so inviting.

But halfway through their second year of dating, we started noticing things about Pam. Just small, odd habits she had.

If someone was having conversation with my brother that did not directly involve her, or that she wasn't a part of, she tended to insert herself as best she could; sitting closer to my brother, laughing a little louder, calling him away, etc. If any of our family or friends would ask my brother questions about college or future aspirations, she'd grow increasingly uncomfortable and sometimes made comments like, "I hope you have it all planned out, 'cause I'm goin wherever you're goin".

My parents and I would chuckle about these behaviors, assuming that Pam just loved my brother and was a bit protective. We liked her a lot and had high hopes for their relationship. I hate to think now how blind we were.

One night, my brother came home late from a party, I was 13 at this time, he was about to turn 21. He walked in the door, our parents were already asleep, but I was up in the living room. I could immediately tell he was upset about something. I asked him what was wrong. As he walked into the kitchen I realized he had a large welt on his cheek. I asked, "What happened to you?"

He said, "I got in a fight. Its cool." This immediately raised suspicion as my brother was as far from the fighting type as you could be. "I fight over what?" I asked. "Pam." He said simply and went to his room

The next morning he was driving me to my soccer game and I pried again about what had happened. He didn't answer at first but then said, "Pam is kind of... Weird." I asked how so. He said "I don't know, she likes to start things."

Pam was a pathological liar. Apparently, she did it all the time. Looking back, the constant new stories of places she'd been and things she'd done didn't seem to be truthful. That night at the party, Pam had told my brother that another man at the party had attempted to rape her. My brother, being the man he is, confronted him and he said "I've never even seen her before." And a fight ensued over the accusation. On the car ride home, Pam said that my brother must have misinterpreted her words and that nothing close to rape had occurred.

The lying seemed to be a detrimental bump in the road, and my brother broke things off.

After several weeks, Pam contacted me asking if I wanted to go shopping with her. Having had a good relationship in the past with Pam, I agreed. My parents thought it was strange that a 20 year old wanted to spend time with her ex-boyfriend's 14 year old sister, but they let me go anyway.

The day started pleasantly, Pam caught me up on her life and asked how I was/how my family and brother were. Nothing seemed strange, until she began to bring up uncomfortable conversation. She explained to me that she had had a sexually traumatic childhood and thats why she lied so much. But she also aggressively defended herself saying "Whatever your brother told you was a lie. He was the one telling lies. Thats why I had to breakup with him". She seemed to jerk around the conversation from normal to deeply personal and strange topics. She explained in detail a lesbian experience she had had after ending her relationship with my brother and told me that I should try it, when I came of age, of course.

I became increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. She noticed and immediately apologized, saying that she really liked being my friend and that she loved my brother and thats why she was acting so crazy. I told her I liked being her friend too and that I understood her feelings. This was a mistake

This is when the phone calls began.

It started with just one. She called me a week after we had hung out at 10pm. She was sobbing and saying that she was so sad without my brother and that she needed to get him back.

Then they happened nightly, later and later each time. I'd be dead asleep at 2am and receive a sobbing, hysterical and desperate phone call. I felt so much pity for her that I continued to answer.

One call was different than the other, though. She wasn't hysterical, she wasn't crying. I picked up the phone at 1:30 in the morning and heard a level voiced, monotone Pam. She said one sentence, "Tell your brother I'm going to slit my fucking throat tonight." And then she hung up. I felt numb. I had never experienced that before, no one I knew had ever behaved that way. I texted her over and over again asking if she was okay and telling her to not do anything. I panicked, I thought I had done something wrong and that since she told me I would be responsible in some way.

The next day, I told my brother what had happened and he said he'd go to her house to check on her.

A week later Pam arrived at my house, arm in arm with my brother. They had gotten back together and seemed as if nothing had happened. She smiled at me and never once mentioned the phone calls she had made to me.

The next month is when things escalated again.

I came home from school to my entire family sitting in the living room. They told me to sit down, I thought someone had died. My mother told me, "Your brother let us know how you're feeling." I had no idea what they were talking about. "Feeling?" I asked. My brother looked at me with pity in his eyes, "Pam told me that she wasn't the one who called you, you called her. And you're the one who wasn't feeling well." What the fuck. "No, thats not what happened, she called me every night for 2 weeks crying and saying she wanted you back." "Thats not what she said, she said that you called her with your problems and that she wasn't sure what to do." I was immediately angry that her lies were continuing and that my own family believed them enough to stage an intervention. I showed them the text messages she'd sent me, played them voice messages and showed my call history. That put and end to that lie.

After that I wanted nothing to do with her. My brother broke up with her again. She called him hundreds of times and sent hundred of messages. She showed up at our house a few times with baked goods, wanting to apologize, but we ignored her. Eventually, she left us alone and we didn't hear from her for almost a year.

On my last day of class before winter break during my Sophomore year, I walked out of school and was met by an incredibly unwelcome surprise. This is where things got scary.

Pam was pacing in the front of the school, biting her fingernails and scratching her head. Her face looked sunken in and she had bags under her eyes, I almost didnt recognize her. I began to cut across the front lawn with my friend, Liz, to avoid her, but she saw me and walked as fast as she could in my direction. She outreached her arms for a hug, but I stopped.

The first thing she said was "You're mad at me?". I asked her what she was doing there and she laughed quietly. "I wanted to apologize for whatever your brother told you. I'm sick, Oz." She used a nickname only my brother called me. "I know. Please don't talk to me anymore." I started away, knowing my brother was parked waiting for me around the corner. Pam reached out and grabbed my shoulder as I did. I quickly pulled away and said "I'm serious. Leave us alone, I think you need some help, Pam." She immediately began to cry, but I turned away and left. My brother pulled into the front parking lot of the school and opened his car door for me. "Is that fucking Pam?" He looked through his front mirror. "Yeah, I don't know what she's on, but she's crazy".

That night, at around 1 am, there was a knock at our door. My dad went to it and looked through the peep hole. "Uh," he said, surprised, "I think its, what the fuck, I think its Pam." "Don't open it, I think shes doing drugs." My brother said. My mom wanted to call the police, but my brother and my dad said we should just wait until she went away. A few moments later she rapped on the door harder and more violently. We heard her wailing and yelling "I hear you, fucking let me in!" As she cried. "She has a baseball bat or something" my brother said, coming from his room where he'd looked out the window. I looked from the den window. She looked like something out of a horror movie. She was wearing a grubby dress, bare footed. Her hair had been cut to above her shoulders and was in a wild, halfway in a bun, halfway out mess. She had wiped her makeup down her face like a ghoulish movie character. She looked even thinner than she did in day light and she swung a metal baseball back around as she stumbled about our yard.

"I'm calling the police, she must be drunk." My mother said. "No, it's fine. She's just giving a show. She'll leave." We didn't know people actually behaved like this. It was all eerily entertaining for a moment, like watching a true crime show. But just as she had been manically stumbling around, she stopped. She stood still, staring vacantly up towards the upstairs bedrooms, tilting her head side to side, up and down and licking her lips. "What is she on, heroin or something?" My dad asked.

Pam began to shift back and forth between laughing and yelling and crying. We all sat down as my brother tried her phone and her mom's phone to try and get her to leave. We sat there and listened to the frightening, animalistic sounds of her outside. But then they stopped. We checked the windows and she was gone.

We all sat in silence for a moment, taking in the strange encounter. My father just chuckled and shook his head, my mother shook hers, pitying the girl for being so disturbed. But I was frightened. No one, except perhaps my brother had seen just how quickly her demeanor, her mental state unraveled. From overprotective nature, to small lies, to pathological lies, to full blown manic outbreaks. But this was her worst and we didn't expect anything more to come of it, that she'd fade away from our lives since now she knew we weren't giving in to her desperation.

But in the next 2 years, we learned how wrong we were.

After the wintertime incident at our house, Pam stopped coming around. She was still very present, however. Every member of my family endured daily text messages and phone calls. They ranged from apologetic and stable, to incredibly distraught or outraged, cursing and making threats. I remember wanting to sleep with the lights on for several months after the incident, afraid that she'd climb the fence of our back yard and I'd find her standing at my window with the same vacant, crazed look she had that night in our front yard. All four of us eventually decided to have our phone numbers changed and block her from our devices and social media accounts. She still had our home phone number, however. Pam left some of the most frightening and haunting messages I'd ever heard. I can remember standing in my kitchen with my family, my brother playing the messages back for us. One stood out-- it showed us just how unstable and potentially dangerous she was:

My parents and I had returned from an early morning indoor soccer game in February of 2015. My brother asked us to come into the kitchen because we "had to hear the new crazy" Pam had become. The first message was about 30 seconds long and received at 12:30am the night before. Pam sound mildly angry and demanded that we return the batch of cookies she had brought to a 4th of July party, some years ago, because she didn't want us to have them anymore. We all exchanged humored glances at how ridiculous of a request it was. My mother turned to leave, amused, but my brother stopped her, saying that that wasn't the crazy part. My brother played the message, received at roughly 3 in the morning that day. We were confused at first because the first 15 seconds was that white noise, the kind you hear when a device plays the sound recording of an empty room, if you know what I'm talking about. But all of a sudden, in a deep, animalistic and enraged voice, she screamed, "Stop FUCKING playing with me... You're gonna get it." and abruptly ended the call. We were all startled by this.

"I want to call the police, they need to know... that girl isn't all there and who knows what she can do." My dad decided that if anything physically happened again, we'd file a report with the police, but that they were just phone calls. My brother assured that she was all talk and wouldn't come around again. At this point I agreed with my mother. I no longer felt safe. I had never been around someone who behaved like this. I was constantly anxious and I had no idea what I'd do if she came around again. I felt like I was stuck in a Lifetime movie, because I didn't think that things like this happened-- that someone I knew so personally could be hiding such a deeply withheld, violent and manic side. It had always been there, but we set it in motion.

After disconnecting the land line, the personal phone calls stopped. We didn't hear from her ourselves, but some of the friends my brother shared with Pam would come to him, saying that Pam wanted to speak with him and that she would call and message them regularly wanting his phone number. Luckily none of them gave it.

Just before summer, Pam disappeared.

No one got any messages, no one saw her in town. Nothing. Nothing until my brother received an email from Pam's mother, who my brother continued to speak to occasionally. She informed my brother that Pam's family had moved her to the east coast to undergo treatment for a drug habit.

Pam's mother had given us more information about the mental state of her daughter. Her mother had not spoken to or seen Pam much during the time she unraveled, when she came to our house or when she'd made the phone calls. Pam's mother had been under the impression my brother was still in a healthy relationship with Pam, and only learned about their breakup and the incident's following it. She explained that her daughter had always had been a white liar; making up stories that didn't make sense, blaming others for things she had already been caught for, arguing the truth of things that were already proven facts. "I don't think she ever thought that anything she did was wrong, even when it was. I don't understand it, because she was not raised that way," she had explained to my brother. Pam's issues were something that had always been present, but settled comfortably beneath an intelligent and attractive exterior. She'd fooled us, and maybe even herself.

Without Pam to worry about, our lives seemed to go back to normal; I still looked over my shoulder every now and again. But, I was preparing for 11th grade, my brother was beginning a new career and dating a new girl, the daughter of a close family friend, who he'd grown up with. Pam started to fade away from our minds. For a while.

As myself and my friends began to drive, I remember noticing a car quite a bit. You know that car you see repeatedly around the area you live in, you notice it more than the others, because you noticed it once and now you can't stop noticing it since you know it exists? You know it belongs to someone, but you've never seen the driver, just the car? It was like that. I'd notice it out of the corner of my eye at a stop light, or out the window of a restaurant as it drove past. I didn't think much of it, but I noticed it pretty much every time I was out; walking, driving and many times with my brother. I didn't understand how often I'd seen it until one day it clicked, and it startled me. It scared me. I saw it parked in my neighborhood and I remember thinking, 'That's that fucking car. What is it doing here?'... We lived in a smaller, older neighborhood. Most of the people who lived there had been there for a long time. We knew a lot of the neighbors and houses were pretty much never on the market. New people showed up maybe, once ever 5 or so years, and when they did, most people knew about it. So an out of place, but oddly familiar car came as a huge surprise to me.

I pointed it out to my brother, who had been in the car with me at the time. He said "Oh yeah, I've seen it a few times." I didn't feel right about it, but I assumed I was being paranoid.

A few months later, I was well into school, had a job and was too busy to let myself worry. Even though I did.

One day at work, I was wiping down tables in the front of the restaurant, as it was a pretty slow day, only a few people in the store. I remember seeing someone standing outside the front doors, just barely visible out the window. I was busy and assumed they were deciding where to have lunch, as another restaurant was directly next to ours and people did this often. They weren't there anymore and I assumed they'd gone next door. I went out to clear dishes off the front patio and clean up and I saw them walking away from the store, down the strip of businesses in the plaza. Back inside as I worked, I noticed the same person walked back and forth several more times. I was wary at this point as the person seemed to linger for about an hour. I didn't think anything of it afterwards, though.

I was a theater student and had to take some time off for a play I was in. Come opening night, I was so burnt out, I didn't notice anything, even if it was out of the ordinary. My family came opening night, the 4th show and closing night. Leaving with my family from the 4th show is when I snapped back into my anxiety ridden reality. That car was in the parking lot. It was parked a few rows away from my parents' car. I had never seen it at my school before and I knew it didn't belong to any of my castmates. "What does Pam drive?" I asked my brother. "Pam? I don't know, why?" "That stupid car, it freaks me out. Its like, everywhere we are."

A few days later, I had an answer.

At closing night of my show, I went out into the lobby of the theater to greet everyone when we finished. I hugged my parents and my brother, but I noticed that they all looked distraught. My brother was visibly upset and my parents were trying to make conversation, the way they do to avoid something. "What happened?" I asked. "Uh, Pam. She was here." I sort of felt the color run out of my face. I didn't know how much what Pam had done had frightened me until then. "Did she leave?" "I don't know," My brother said, "don't worry about it."

I went and got my things and remembered how strangely violated I felt. That Pam had watched me for the past two hours without me knowing she was in the same state, let alone the same building.

I decided to go home straight away. We left the building and there she was. She was looking at her phone, standing at the mouth of one of the hallways in front of the theater. I stopped for a moment, but the four of us decided to walk as hurried as we could towards the parking lot, hoping to ignore her and breeze past her. She looked different; still skinny, but she wore makeup again. From a distance she looked almost like the old Pam. But as we got closer, she looked up from her phone and still had the vacant, animal quality to her face. A bit of anger flashed over her face as she noticed us. She looked like she was going to say something, but we all pretended to not notice her and continued on. She followed closely behind us, "Hey, wait a minute." At the front of the school, my brother stopped as we kept walking. I heard him say, "You need to stop." We got to our car and watched them talk from a distance. I wanted to get in our car and leave. My mom and I got in while my dad stood outside. Pam was yelling at my brother at this point. He made his way towards his car. Pam smiled artificially and waved towards my brother, shouting a goodbye to him as he went before storming off to her car. My brother stopped to talk to my dad a moment, got in his own car and left after Pam peeled out of the lot. In the same car I had been seeing for the past month and a half.

"Welp, just as crazy as ever." My dad said as he started the car, "We may need to call the police." We lived a short distance from the school, but I was shaken up and wanted my dad to drive as fast as possible. Every headlight we saw chilled me. I stared at my phone trying not to look out the window. I nearly dropped it.

We reached a street convergence in our neighborhood, at the stop sign to the right of us was her car. "Dad that's her." He drove straight and she turned the same direction. "Dad she's following us!" I had never felt quite so panicked. "Call the police, please." My dad said to my mother, his voice as level as ever. I stared out the back window, ducking low in my seat. My dad turned down another street and she followed again. "I'm gonna go in a circle, to see if she follows us, okay?" my dad said. I was crying at this point as I came to a realization. For 4 more turns, my mom spoke to a 911 operator, unable to accurately name streets, as they were not lit and it was pitch black outside. I laid across the back seat listening to my parents yell at each other, frustrated and I'm sure frightened, and my dad curse as she continued to follow more closely. The car was flooded with light as she turned on her brights, the grill of her car almost touching our bumper. My dad turned to mirror away to keep the light out of his eyes and sped the car up. Eventually the light was gone and I could no longer hear the drone of her engine behind us. She was gone.

We got home 10 minutes later and turned every light in our house on. My dad checked every closet and our back and side yards, carrying his gun with him. "She's been fucking watching me and [my brother]." I was almost hysterical in my realization.

For the past month, Pam had been stalking both my brother and I. Seeing that car had not been a coincidence. She knew what we were both doing; she came to my school function, on both nights my family was there (maybe all three nights). She knew where I was; she had followed me all over town, she'd been around our neighborhood and had been her lurking around my work place.

All of a sudden the threats became real. Pam was no longer afraid of crossing boundaries, if she ever had been. We were now in the middle of a full blown nightmare. My family was no longer safe. She had gone away to cure one disease, but returned having fed and grown another. She was our personal terrorist with the power to single-handedly pull our everyday lives apart. And she had already begun to do just that.

What may seem like the plot of a bad horror movie-- the psychotic ex-girlfriend reeking havoc-- became our reality, times ten. I cannot express to you how terrible it is to be kept awake by something you cannot see, but you know exists and is waiting for you when you get out of bed. I never expected a human being could terrify me more than any horrible monster or boogieman-- those things don't exist. I'm sharing this ordeal to help others understand warning signs and pressure those who see them to take action to protect themselves.

Despite the terror of that night, this was only halfway year 5 of 6. And things would continue to approach a boiling point.

After we told my brother about what Pam had done the night after my show, he finally began to confide in me the details of his relationship with Pam. She had come to his high school as a sophomore during his senior year. She immediately caught the attention of my brother and his friends, as she was beautiful and expected to be reserved as a new student. However, my brother recalled his female friends saying she was aggressive in trying to make friends and liked to talk about how her family had moved here from an affluent community in Texas, so elite that it didn't have a name. Many of his friends also had gotten strange vibes from her and pinned her as a "weird, snobby girl" right away. My brother met her again a few years later when she came in to where he was working at the time and said how she had seemed to mature vastly. He took her on one date and almost immediately she wanted to officiate their relationship. He thought it was a bit forward, but didn't hesitate because she impressed him with her elegant way of speaking, kind words and pretty face.

However, he noticed red flags only a few weeks into their relationship. Pam was very insecure: constantly asking my brother if he still had feelings for her, if he was angry with her and if he thought she was attractive enough. Eventually this insecurity took a different shape. Pam would send my brother unsolicited nude pictures of herself in the middle of the day attached to messages asking if he still liked the way her body looked. If my brother went a period of time in their conversations without calling her "beautiful" or telling her how nice she looked, Pam would point this out. If he protested in anyway she'd become emotional and claim he didn't love her anymore.

This behavior mellowed until the end of the second year of their relationship. This is when the narcissism became apparent. Pam would often talk lowly of my brother's previous girlfriends and female friends, boasting about how much more attractive she was than them. Pam refused to attended several of the events my brother asked her to go to (like my birthday dinner or our Aunt's funeral) because she "Wouldn't know anyone and would have no one to talk to". She also enjoyed referring to herself as a "princess" and wanting to constantly be doted upon. She often argued with my brother about him spending time with his friends without her because she didn't understand why he wanted to be around anyone but her. She was 100% convinced she would one day be a celebrity and marry my brother. (At this point I was in disbelief that my brother, a smart, kind and good looking man was wasting any more of his time with a girl who behaved like that.)

However, anytime my brother hinted at wanting to end the relationship, Pam would fly off the handle, becoming belligerent and promising to kill herself. My brother was trapped by the fear of her harming herself. He'd often think that she was simply bluffing and wouldn't actually do anything, but one day he discovered several bottles of prescription pills in Pam's home. He asked her about them and she told him that they were antidepressants prescribed to her after the death of her brother (a brother who he later found out never existed).

Eventually Pam began to become angry when my brother would want to spend time with his family without her around. He also told me that Pam fixated a lot of that anger on me. Once she proceeded to refer to me as a "slut" and made comments and theories about how my mother must have had an affair of which I was the product, because I was so ugly and my brother was not, so my brother decided it was time to end it no matter what. This information troubled me, as all of her actions following that (asking me to spend time with her, she wanting to be my friend, showing up at my school and the phone calls) seemed heinous, ill-intended and even more psychotic than they had been at the time.

But for the final year and a half of our ordeal with Pam, psychotic could not begin to explain what she did to us:

I slept little in the weeks following the car incident. My brother, who lived across town, visited and called more regularly. I suspected he felt as uneasy as I did. The nights I did sleep, I often sweat through nightmares of girls with axes or gowned women standing at the foot of my bed or in my window. One night in early December of 2015, it was a rainy and particularly windy night. I wanted to let the cold air in and I thought that the sound of rain would help me sleep, so I cracked the window only enough to where it could reach the second latch. I also placed the piece of wood my father had cut to help with security behind the window. I pulled my curtain in front of window, leaving the cracked part of the window uncovered to allow air to pass the heavy blackout curtain. I remember waking from sleep, vaguely hearing a foreign noise against the roof out my window. My room was on the second floor of our house. Our house had 3 levels and the "second story" was only 6 or 7 steps up from the primary floor of our house. All of the spaces where different levels, but the bedrooms where the highest, slightly lower than they'd be in a classic 2 story home. What I'm getting at is that my room was hard to get to from the outside, but not if you were aware of the parts of our home and the access points from other roof levels over the living room and garage.

I shook the noise off, as it was storming and I thought maybe some leaves or branches were moving around. I turned over to face the wall opposite my window. Not even a second later my room was illuminated by a surge of white light. I shot up in bed. I was momentarily paralyzed with horror. Every one of my limbs felt as if they were floating as I tried to make sense of what had happened. Then, again, myself and every item in my room became a black silhouette as another flash filled the space. I threw the blankets off of me and ran as fast as I could down the hallway. I was screaming so loud I surprised myself. I ran into my dad as he threw open his bedroom door. He was panicked and held me by my shoulders in the doorway to their bedroom and yelled at me to tell him what was wrong.

"Someone was taking pictures of me through my window!"

The roof and house was checked and they, of course, found nothing and no one. My mother sat up with me and asked every basic question a parent asks "Were you dreaming? Are you sure it wasn't lightening?" There was no thunder and I was sure that there had not been at the time it happened. The flashes did not have the same hue as lightening did. I had taken enough cell phone pictures in my life to identify the flash of a camera. I don't know if they believed me then, but I would eventually have proof that would astonish them.

My brother adopted Ike in January of 2016. Ike was a 2 month old Chesapeake Bay Retriever with one gold eye and one green eye. He had a very distinct white marking on his chest that looked like an hour glass and a white sock on his front left paw. Ike was the love of my brother's life, aside from his now fiancee, Kara. Ike would end our torture just 3 months later.

The holidays and my brother's engagement to Kara, who was amazing, beautiful and who's family we had known all our lives, had lifted my family's spirits immensely. My brother was starting his family, almost done with the police academy and seemed untouchable by any memory of Pam. We felt optimistic for the first time in a long time, Pam hadn't been around (to our knowing) in several weeks, all was normal and things were looking up. But that, again, didn't last.

A month or so after bringing him home, after letting him into the backyard for a few minutes by himself, Kara told us that Ike had escaped from the yard. She panicked and ran around the neighborhood looking for him. She got in her car, called me upset, and drove around the block looking for him. She picked me up and I helped her look in the creek area behind where my brother's house was. We couldn't find him. However, when we arrived back at my brother's house, Ike was sitting on the front porch. We were relieved as he was unharmed and seemed to be as happy as ever, despite missing his collar. I helped Kara check the yard for ways he could've gotten out. We both decided he must have shimmied through a small gap in the gate on the side yard. I couldn't help being confused to find no grass or burs in his fur.

We thought nothing of it.

A few weeks later, both my brother and Kara were going on a weekend trip with some friends and I offered to take care of Ike. They dropped him off on the Friday before the three day weekend. Ike was happy to play with our older lab, Dez. The second night he was with us, I was out with friends and my dad had let both the dogs into the yard at around 8pm. He sat in his chair in the living room watching a show with my mom. They say they remember hearing Dez barking because he yelled for him to be quiet. But they assumed the puppy was riling him up. A few minutes later Dez came to the door to be let in. He ran inside and barked at my dad. My dad was confused, as our dog was not a regular barker. He called for Ike but he didn't come. My dad went out and looked around in the bushes and still did not find him. He became concerned and hurried into the house to get a light. He checked the swimming pool and still did not find him. My mother joined him and they both scoured the large yard but did not find him.

When I got home, they had just finished searching the front and side yards. I told them that he had escaped once before, so we decided to take the car to look for him. As we drove around yelling for him, attracting the help of a few neighbors, I thought how strange it was that such a well behaved puppy had suddenly become a master escape artist in the past three or so weeks. Our yard had seen 3 or so dogs grow up in it, some younger and smaller than Ike, and we had never had that problem. The fences were high and well built and my dad had replaced the ones on the side of the house just a few summers ago.

We did not find him.

I hoped that he'd return that night, like he did last time, but he didn't. I informed my brother on Sunday and proceeded to look all day in surrounding areas, the pound, shelters, vet clinics and even looked to the sides of roads from bodies. We found nothing.

My brother was heartbroken. I helped him make fliers to post in our neighborhood and his.

A couple weeks past and we heard nothing.

My dad was doing yard work in mid-February. He came in after a few hours and he set something on the kitchen table. "What's that?" I knit my brow as I saw it. "It's Ike's collar, it was in the front yard, I almost hit it with the mower. You'll have to take it to your brother." It was Ike's collar. His first collar. Not the one he had been wearing the night he went missing from our yard. It was his puppy collar, which he had lost the day he got out of the yard at my brother's house.

I called Kara and asked her if they had found it, and she said they hadn't and had bought him a new one.

That's when it clicked. Someone had stolen my brother's dog not once, but twice.

I told my brother, Kara and my parents my theory and it was not a difficult one for them to understand. It had to be connected to everything else.

Right when we thought she was out of our lives...

We decided to take it to the police to add to our case file on Pam. I also told them about the night I had been photographed from my window. The police, like many times before, told us they could not do anything, as there was no proof she had done any of these things.

Frustrated, defeated and frightened again.

But a few short weeks later, in April of 2016, new developments would finally end it all.

By complete, God-sent coincidence, Kara was with her mother in a small town 45 minutes away from ours. We were planning for my 17th birthday that month and so preoccupied we almost put Pam and the fact that she undoubtedly had been watching us for months and had stolen, probably killed, my brother's puppy and thrown his collar in our front yard to help us connect the dots and give her credit for the crime. However, while Kara window shopped in the center of the town, she and her mother noticed a car parked on the street. A car with a puppy in it. It was a bit warm out, so they walked to the window and peeked in at the animal. Kara immediately recognized him by his eyes and the marking on his chest (and the fact that he began crying as soon as she called his name and he saw her).

She phoned the police, phoned my brother and sat on the back trunk of the car. The police arrived as the owner of the car came back to it. The girl was immediately upset by the presence of the police and Kara's angry accusations. The girl was not Pam, and she became rather helpful. The girl said that she had purchased the dog only a few days ago from an add online. She told police that the girl she purchased her from was "super shady" and eager to get rid of the dog who was skinny and a very cheap price. The girl who had sold her the dog claimed that she "didn't want the stupid dog, it was a present from her boyfriend, but it was the wrong kind". Pam had always liked small dogs. She told the police that she had met the girl to purchase the dog at an apartment complex a few minutes from where they were, but that she wasn't sure what apartment the girl lived in.

The police, after Kara had informed them of our situation, used Pam's name to find out that she indeed lived in the apartment complex with two roommates. They interviewed Pam's roommates the next day, but Pam was not there. They told detectives that they almost never saw Pam, her room was always locked and she was almost always gone. She didn't have a job, though she claimed to have one, and her mother was there a lot checking up on her and dropping off her rent to them. However, when they did speak to her, she talked a lot about her past relationship and switched between how much she loved him and his family to how they all "deserved to die" and were "going to hell".

With the information given by the girl who had purchased Ike and by Pam's roommates, the police finally had sufficient evidence to search Pam's apartment. I don't know much about what they found, but what I do know horrified my family and horrified me. On Pam's computer they found hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of my brother, my parents, Kara and of me. Our cars, our houses, my school, my brother's school, of Ike. Pictures taken through our windows at night. Picture of us sleeping. Photos taken from our social media of vacations, the picture of my brother's proposal to Kara, she had even doctored herself into some of them. She still had pictures of her and my brother and her with my family up around her room. She had kept Ike in her closet for weeks on a towel and with just water and little food. In her search history they found everything from rape-fantasy and other violent pornography to weapon research.

The police now had sufficient evidence to arrest Pam.

Pam had been obsessively stalking my family for more than a two years. She had stalked us from her car, following us around town. It had been her snapping photos of me from the roof outside my window. She had watched my brother drop Ike off at our house. She had documented her opinions of us, our habits and her plans in a journal which we will not get to see until the case is taken to trial next month. My brother, myself, my father, the girl we found Ike with, Pam's roommates, several of my brother's friends and Pam's mother will testify against her. It will be the first face to face interaction any of us will have had with her in many months and I am terrified.

And I'm angry. I'm angry that an evil, narcissistic, malevolent, psychotic parasite like her had latched onto my brother, onto my family and single-handedly stripped us of our security, our sanity and our trust. Every creak, every bump, every unknown face and every vehicle following too closely will send me into a tailspin of dread and I'll see her again, standing in my front yard in her dress and looking up to the sky with a vacant, animalistic gaze.

My life became a real horror story. Not because of a haunted house or because of an ax wielding murderer. But because of a sick girl with a broken mind and a fixation on something unobtainable. I'm 17 years old and I've experienced an ordeal most will read and think is a sad attempt at a thrilling fiction post. My family is healing, I'm healing and she did NOT break us.

I hope that this story helps anyone who has gone through something similar feel not so alone. I hope that those of you who read this and think of someone who shows the same warning signs as Pam did, are now prepared to take action to protect yourselves. Don't wait until things get as bad as they got for me. Be aware of the power of mental instability and the danger behind it.