#babe guess who just escaped the psych ward

[the-trouser-man]

This is his entire energy

[the-midnight-scoop]

submitted by: Bodega Babe

The last time I saw Shadowstar was about a month before he took a break. I’ve seen him a few times before. He’d flicker all shadow-y between the alleys, clinging to brick about 20 feet in the air. I’d spot him usually after my shift or towards the end, and he’d give me a wave, or sometimes stop by and talk. Last time over a a leftover Chopped Cheese. About nothing in particular really. No ‘juicy scoops’ here, except maybe this one: Shadowstar and me became, I guess, friends after he saved me from a burning building.

I’ve been depressed since I was 19. My grades gradually eroded, and every gracious deferral mounted my anxiety. Every delayed graduation chipping away at my parents’ savings and my dignity. My first girlfriend was a revelation, and love helped, for a time. I flung myself into it hard, and crashed—friendships burning in the distance for so long that when I emerged, there was no one around. Couldn’t talk to my folks, either, so I took a ‘year off’ for an ‘internship’, aka bussing tables. My body leaked tar, hot and suffocating; so many days wilted away in bed. It got too much—no future, nobody around me, nothing but hurt and disappointment igniting my room and I had to get out.

I guess somebody must have spotted my wobbly ass trying to shimmy up the fire escape, because by the time I was on the roof, people were calling out on the pavement and I could see police sirens in the distance. The sun was setting over the city. It was like I was hearing and seeing everything behind glass. It was so far away. I was so tired of breathing smoke. Just one step from a way out...

He spooked me, floating there on a cloud of black energy (?), and almost prematurely ended everything on my behalf. The police were blaring at him from underneath to get me down. I started panicking. “Listen, if you come an inch closer, I’ll jump. I swear, I’ll do it.” He said, as gravelly as he could make his shaking voice, “I’m not here to do that ma’am. I’m here if you want to talk, though.” And...I almost did die, but in laughter. He wanted to talk!? And who says ma’am? And I realized, through the cracking voice, that Shadowstar was a kid. A kid. It was so absurd.

I wiped away my tears, and sat on the edge of the roof. I was quiet for a while, he was too—mortified and unsure, I think. “Isn’t this the part where you give me an inspiring speech?”, I asked. He scratched his cheek. “Actually, in distress call training, they mostly get you to listen but...we haven’t reached what to do. In cases like this. Unless you want an inspiring speech? Captain Might once told me—” He was totally, awkward sincere, absurdly sincere—this kid was trying so, so hard, it was too much and I started laughing again. It hit me: I missed laughing. I hadn’t done it in so long. It was something I wanted to do again, and again, and again, to make up for all the days I didn’t.

He stayed with me for hours, and would float up to the psych ward window the day after. I told him where I worked, and he started hanging with me sometimes, after I got discharged. That’s why I know he’s not dead, or that he quit. Because I know that kid carries the world on his back, and keeps on going. And somehow, that helps me keep on going, too.

[survivingthejungle]

never fade away, part vi

i cant tell you how many times i’ve re-written this just to have it all be deleted again. too many times.

i have a bad sunburn and it huuuuuuuurts like a mf.

let’s get this show on the road.

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You knew, deep in the back of your mind, that no matter how smoothly your life had been going since you got home, something would eventually come along to mess it all up again. To reference an overused quote, “Nothing gold can stay.” You were indescribably happy every time you hung out with friends at a party or went for a car ride. You’d all sometimes even go exploring in old abandoned warehouses and take pictures. Such is the life of a high schooler on summer break. This, for you, was the calm before the storm.

Every once in a while, you’d wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, adrenaline rushing through your veins, heart pumping out of your chest. The copper-haired teenage psychopath who held you captive for weeks still had yet to make his way out of your nightmares. Sometimes, in the few seconds after you shot up from bed, you were paralyzed with the fear that he might be hiding in the dark corners of your room, and that he was going to kidnap you again- or worse. But your eyes would adjust and you would see that it was just you, the gentle humming of the fan in your room, and your dog sleeping soundly at your side; you would snuggle into the 10-month-old Australian Shepherd tightly and fall right back asleep.

You had gotten the dog, named Sadie, not long after the incident. Being a herding breed, she was very protective-a quality your parents valued (as they trusted she would grow into your personal guard dog, of sorts). She had a few months of being trained by a professional under her belt before your family adopted her, so she was not completely clueless on how to protect and alert you to danger if she sensed it. Your mother felt much more at ease knowing that you were being watched after, especially after you had flat-out refused to stay home and lay low for a while (“I’m not going to hide for the rest of my life mother. I’m not going to let the possibility of danger keep me from living my life. I’m not afraid of what’s out there.”)

You’d gotten in the habit of taking Sadie on walks, which is what you were doing the day the walls of your calm, normal life shattered once more. One decision to take a shortcut down an empty alley had changed the rest of your day. Sadie’s ears perked up and she stopped dead in her tracks before turning around and barking furiously. You whipped around suddenly and were met with the image of a small, greasy man with a smile that made you uneasy, and a tall man in a police uniform with a bloody bandage wrapped around his entire face and… copper hair. There was a chance it wasn’t the boy you guessed that it was, because come on, he was dead!- but you weren’t willing to take that chance. You sprinted off in the opposite direction as fast as your legs would carry you, Sadie as your side, seemingly trying to guide you to safety.

(Excerpt from a conversation you never heard: “Oh-oh my God! It’s her! I never imagined it would be this easy-!”

“Who? What are you talking about? Who’s ‘her’?”

“Going into the alley! Right there with the dog! That’s (y/n)! The two of you were meant to be together! See, we- the cult, that is- we tried to get her to join, since she’d been your… well, your… well, we couldn’t ever get her to tell us about your relationship. We all just assumed she was your girlfriend- after all, you had kept her with you for a few weeks, you seemed pretty possesive, too- but she wouldn’t ever talk to us… We all just guessed she was traumatized after watching you… die… Although-“

“Hey man, shut up. Tell me the rest of the story when we get back… Help me grab her, would you?”)

What you weren’t expecting in this unrealistic, nightmarish experience was actually making it safely to the next street over and finding help.

It didn’t happen, either.

There was suddenly a strong grip around your stomach, effectively lifting you off the ground, leaving you kicking and screaming for help. A cold, pallid hand left your side to roughly grab your face and hold it still. You were staring directly into the eyes of the bandaged and bloodied face, and you were terrified beyond words. “Hm,” he said in a croaky, gravelly voice you almost were familiar with, “You do look pretty familiar… Oh! Of course! I remember you now! Hey, how ya been-” His half-hearted greeting was cut short by Sadie gnawing on his left calf. (“Good girl”, you thought.) “Ow!” He rolled his eyes and tried to get a hold of his gun and shoot her, but before he could aim it, you were wildly pulling his arm away from her.

“NO! STOP!” You screamed, at the top of your lungs. “SADIE, RUN!” You half expected her to not move a muscle, because this was not a movie, and she probably didn’t even know that command, but to your surprise and relief, she bolted in the other direction. “LET ME GO!” You continued to shout, “GET OFF ME! STOP IT! G-” You were muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

“Chill out, would ya? God, the one person I wasn’t planning on killing tonight, and THIS is the thanks I get.” You were being thrown into the backseat of the car at this point, followed by the one who had carried you there. “You know where we’re going,” he noted to the other man, and shoved him in the driver’s seat. You, of course, were already clawing at the other door to get it to open, not a clue in the world as to what your plan would be if you really got out. “Jeez, would you- Would you stop that? Do you /want/ me to drug you?”

“NO! Let me OUT! GOD! I am not about to be kidnapped AGAIN by the same ginger freak! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! WHAT THE FUCK! Get AWAY from me! LET ME GO! Get AWAY from me! YOU RUINED MY LIFE, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING NARCISSIST!” He said nothing in response, only grabbed a hold of both of your hands, and started tying them together using a wad of fresh gauze tape rolled up and laying on the floor. You figured that was the same thing he had used to bandage his face as well.

“Not that I’m against it or anything, but unless you want me to gag you as well, I’d suggest shutting the hell up. ‘Kay babe?”

You just sharply nodded, and shrunk away from him and as close to the door as possible. Sinking into the backseat of the car, you looked out through the window and were met with the view of an industrial park. “Hey, uh…” Jerome started, directing his words towards the gross little man driving. “What’s her name again?”

“(y/n),” the man offered.

“Right, (y/n), uh… What have you been up to since I died?”

You were absolutely incredulous. “Are… Are you joking with me right now? Is this a joke? Dude seriously?” He nodded. “Oh my God. Well if you NEED to know, I was in a psych ward for 6 weeks after I finally escaped because I had “severe mental trauma”, my body rejected solid foods for 9 days because YOU refused to feed me anything other than apple sauce and yogurt, and I had 3 different psychology professors fighting over who got to use me in their next case study. I also had to catch up on 4 weeks worth of school on my OWN time because the American public school system is shit, and no one at school talked to me for 2 weeks because they all thought you might have fucking brainwashed me. My life was JUST starting to go back to normal! I got my driver’s license-“

He seemed to be interested in this. “You had a birthday? You’re sixteen now?” You nodded. “Wow. That’s really a shame. Can’t believe I missed my girl’s birthday.”

“Fuck off. I’m not your anything.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll come around eventually.” His face (or, rather, lack thereof) lit up in a split second as he turned to you. “Ooh! I got an idea,” he grinned as the stolen police car you were in stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse. "Y'ever been to a carnival?”

“What? No,” you replied. He and his greasy friend both got out of the car before he walked over to your side, open the door, and pulled you out by your bicep.

"Don’t even think about runnin’, babe. That won’t end well.”

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there will be another update on the way soon. i forgot how much i love writing??? wtf???? i know this isn’t very good and im sorry for making you wait so long for such shitty writing but please be patient w me and i’ll have better stuff on the way.

in the mean time i’ve missed you all how have you been??

in the other meantime no worries to my other request i’m working on them

lastly please, as always, do not hesitate to send me a request if u want me to write anything!!! i love u all my friends also if ur in the usa, please have a fun and SAFE (!!!) fourth of july tomorrow. goodnight friendos catch u on the flippity flip