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gojology · 4 years ago

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Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general. Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades. You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch. Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards. Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel. The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back. But the custom notification was sweet as well. You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them. You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances. You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one. Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.” Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone. In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.” Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.” You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible. “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)” You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen. “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.” Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep. ‧₊˚✩彡. You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel. Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle. “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him. He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars. “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.” You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.” Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡. Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face. “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes. “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!” “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.” Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer. “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!” “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind. “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present. “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for. The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life. A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated: “WELCOME BACK QT” “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW” Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit. Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone. “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!” Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo. Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed. Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡. You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room. Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents. The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched. The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest. The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together. Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two. “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight. “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see. “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?” You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again. “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined. “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?” “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?” He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room. “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint. Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala. “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.” Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table. Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.” “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in. The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool. “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again. “Where do you guys know eachother?” “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?” “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?” “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?” “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?” “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?” Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up. “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper. An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji. “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?” Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards. “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.” “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together. Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.” Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again. Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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hi hi hi im back at it again with the blurbs - ABM universe: Dani and Flora taking their child/children for their ~lovely~ vaccines that they need to take as a child.

Well over due on my part but an amazing idea as usual hehe

Clementine

Florence did not want to take her daughter for her vaccines by herself – not wanting to have to deal with the heartbreaking sound of the baby’s cries - so the only logical solution was to call in emotional support. Daniel was more than happy to come along for the adventure, joining them on the subway ride and pushing the stroller into the doctor’s office. Two-month-old Clementine was wide awake, staring up at Daniel from the stroller with big blue eyes and sucking softly on her pacifier as she took in the surroundings above her while Florence checked them in at the nurse’s desk.

“Clemmie.” Daniel cooed down to the baby to bring her attention back to him. “Hi, cutie.”

She kicked her legs excitedly at his voice and he smiled at her.

The nurse led them right into one of the patient rooms and got them settled to wait for the doctor and Florence unbuckled her baby from the stroller and lifted her out. Clementine rested easily against her shoulder, those big blue eyes still scanning everything in the new room under the comforting hand of her mother.

Daniel was scanning the decals on the wall of Winnie the Pooh characters and little balloons and honey pots. He turned back to Florence who was swaying slightly with her baby cuddled against her. She was frowning.

“Are you nervous?” Daniel asked.

Florence nodded, turning a little to pepper gentle kisses to her daughter’s head. Daniel cracked a small smile to his best friend as he hopped up onto the examination table.

“It’s better to get a vaccination than a scary disease.” he said.

“Don’t even joke.” Florence replied quietly. “They had her out of the room for the ones when she was born so I’ve never had to see them.”

“Do you want me to hold her for you when she gets them?”

“Yes please.” Florence nodded.

When the doctor arrived, they shared updates on Clementine’s development and Daniel sat quietly in the chair in the corner while Florence and the doctor spoke about the baby. Clementine was laid out on the examination table with Florence’s protective hand on her stomach as the doctor had the baby striped down to give her a full check-up. He made sure she was smiling fine, following his finger when he moved it, and lifting her head as well as other aspects of her growth, asking Florence questions about her sleeping and eating and everything in between.

Soon, it was time for the vaccinations and Florence looked over to Daniel with panic in her eyes. He jumped up right away and came over, leaning over the wriggling baby on the examination table and scooped her right up. Florence took a nervous step back as she watched the doctor prepare the shots.

“We’re going to be so good, aren’t we, Clemmie?” Daniel cooed softly as he sat back down in the chair he was in before.

The doctor instructed him on how to hold her to keep her from squirming – wrapping his arm around her body and holding her hands still with her legs tucked securely between his thighs. Daniel got nervous holding the tiny baby so restrained but the doctor said he was doing it perfectly and took a cleansing wipe to Clementine’s thigh. Florence stood across the small room, biting anxiously at her fingernail as she watched.

Clementine was a generally quiet baby but the first shot had her wailing, trying to wiggle out of Daniel’s arms and Florence took a shaky inhale.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Daniel soothed the baby nervously, “Dani’s right here, Clemmie. You’re such a good girl.”

She needed five vaccines for her two-month appointment and each one had the poor baby crying louder but the doctor worked quickly to get through with it. Florence even shed a few tears herself as seeing her baby in pain and crying was never easy. When the vaccines were finished, Daniel got up to pass over the baby to Florence and Clementine curled right into her. He rubbed his hand over the baby’s bare back, trying to keep his own struggling emotions at bay.

Florence held her close and glanced up at Daniel, mouthing a grateful, “Thank you.”

Penelope

A six-months-old, little Penelope was a shy little wonder. Daniel was more than comfortable with fatherhood duties since he had done plenty in the previous year with Clementine so he wasn’t phased when he had to take Penelope for her next dose of shots on his own. It had been a while since he had visited the pediatrician since his relationship with Florence was on rocky ground for a while but things were perfectly smoothed over – she was now his girlfriend – and he was back to his usual job of protector…to all three of them now.

Daniel headed into the doctor’s office and up to the nurse’s desk, six-month-old Penelope half asleep in the stroller and he rolled it back and forth gently to lull her farther into sleep as he checked in. She snoozed peacefully as they waited to be called into one of the back rooms and Daniel scrolled through his phone with his other hand claimed by the sleeping baby. She loved to hold his finger while she slept.

Finally, Penelope’s name was called and Daniel gently pulled his finger from her hand to push the stroller down the hall and into the room the nurse directed him to. Daniel unbuckled the baby and gently lifted her from the stroller, making her whine lightly as she was moved.

“I know, I know.” Daniel shushed her sweetly, tucking her head against his shoulder as he rocked her slightly to keep her relaxed and she quieted down easily. “That’s my good girl.”

There was nothing Daniel loved more than talking about his daughters and the doctor was no exception of an audience – and her bowel movements was no exception of a topic either it seemed. Just parenthood things, right? When it was time to check her over, Daniel laid her down on the examination table and helped strip her from her clothes, beaming with pride as she passed the tests that the doctor did to make sure she was developing well.

“Is she sitting up on her own yet?”

Daniel’s face fell, “Is she supposed to?”

“Not necessarily, but soon, hopefully. Keep practicing with her.”

Daniel nodded, keeping a secure hand on the sleepy baby’s stomach as she was measured and then weighed. Then it was vaccination time and Daniel carefully lifted Penelope up to sit down with her tucked in his arms while the doctor got the shots ready.

She blinked sleepily up at him with big blue eyes and reached her hand up to rest her palm against his chest as she mewled uncomfortably. Being left in only a diaper in February wasn’t anyone’s first choice of comfort.

“You going to be a good girl for the doctor?” Daniel whispered down to her, tracing the curve of her chubby cheek and her wiggling arms as they waited, but he couldn’t ignore his own anxiety that was bubbling up inside him. “Aren’t you, bug? Going to be a good girl for Dada too.”

The doctor crouched down in front of them and Penelope whined softly, tugging at Daniel’s shirt as he held her legs and her arms down so the doctor could work.

“You’re okay.” Daniel said softly, rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Dada’s right here.”

The needle was barely in her thigh and she was already screaming, trying to wiggle right out of Daniel’s secure grasp.

“Okay, bug, it’s okay.” Daniel tried to assure her, tears pricking his eyes as he held his baby down while she wailed. Five more vaccines were delivered and once they were finished, Penelope herself and Daniel’s shirt were soaked in baby tears and Daniel was sure his ears were ringing with how loud the six-month-old could scream.

The doctor offered him a reassuring smile and Daniel thanked him flatly as he reached into the stroller and pulled out the baby blanket to wrap around the naked baby. Daniel shushed her gently as he cuddled her right up to his chest and he shut his eyes tightly as he held her.

“Want a lollipop?”

Daniel looked up at the doctor and he was holding out a purple lollipop with an understanding smile.

“For…me?” Daniel asked.

“It’s harder for the parents than it is for the kids…and I can’t offer you alcohol.” the doctor chuckled.

Daniel cracked a smile and took the lollipop, “Thanks.”

Lucy

For the first four years of Lucy’s life, she spent the days at home with just her and her mother while her sisters were at school and her father was at work. Florence and Lucy did have a strong bond because of this but Lucy’s attachment to her father was unmoveable. To get the toddler out of the house without much trouble, Florence never told her where they were going as she knew she would have a hell of a time calming down her dramatic two-year-old if she knew they were going to the doctors. What Florence wouldn’t give to have Daniel leave work just to take their youngest for her vaccinations. This was her least favourite part of parenthood, truly.

Lucy was sat in the stroller as they took the subway towards the office and down the sunny sidewalk and into the building. The moment Lucy recognised where she was, she was trying to wiggle out of the stroller, whining behind her pacifier and tugging at the straps that held her sitting.

Florence checked them in at the nurses desk and they were directed to the waiting room for a bit. She unbuckled the toddler carefully and set her on the ground, “Go play for a bit, okay?”

Florence ushered her towards the blocks that were set up in the play corner of the pediatrician’s waiting room but Lucy couldn’t focus on playing in her current state. When her name was called, Lucy went running back to her mother and threw her little arms around her legs and tried to hide.

“Come on, sweet girl.” Florence took her hand and led her after the nurse to the patient room, pulling the empty stroller behind her.

Lucy had to nearly be dragged down the hallway and into the room and when the nurse closed the door behind them, Lucy went running to try and open the handle. Florence scooped her up onto her hip and tried to distract her by pointing out the fun little decals on the walls but Lucy was not having it.

“Dada!” she called.

“Dada’s working but Mama’s got you.” Florence promised, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “We can tell Dada how brave you were later, right?”

“Noo!” Lucy tried to wiggle out of her arms.

Lucy certainly put up a fight with the doctor during the check-up but wasn’t too terrible and was more than ready to go home when he walked back over to the small counter in the corner of the room.

“Home, Mama.” Lucy asked sweetly, reaching her hand up to her mother. She made little grabby hands up at her. “Please, home, Mama.”

“Not yet, sunshine.” Florence picked her up and sat her on her lap on the chair. “We just have to get a few little needles first, just small ones.”

Lucy’s eyes went as wide as saucers as if she was being tortured evilly and she squirmed violently in her mother’s arms to be let go. Florence tried to grab her arms and legs to hold her secure but she was a wiggling mess.

“Dada!” Lucy shrieked as loud as she possibly could. “Noo!”

“Mama’s got you.” Florence tried to soothe her, “We’ll go get ice cream after, okay?”

Lucy was not ready to be bribed and she just flailed harder, “Daddy!”

“Come on, Lucy Lu. Be a good girl now.” Florence said as gently as she could, trying to ignore the glances from the poor doctor who was just trying to do his job.

Lucy was screaming and nothing had even happened yet, tears pouring down her cheeks as she thrashed in Florence’s arms, calling for Dada as if somehow he might hear her all the way at work. When a good five minutes passed and Lucy was still putting up a good fight no matter how much both Florence and the doctor tried to intervene, the young mother had to call in emergency backup.

She was sat back in the waiting room with a crying two-year-old on her lap, vaccines put on hold until the kid could calm down, and Florence felt like nothing but a failure. Lucy sucked on her pacifier as she cuddled against her mother’s chest, cheeks pink and eyes swollen from her crying fit.

Finally, the doctors office door opened again and Daniel stepped inside quickly. Florence sighed with relief at the sight of him and Lucy perked up right away, instantly holding her arms up to him with little grabby hands.

“Hey, you two.” Daniel said softly, bending down to kiss his tired wife and then scoop up the toddler into his arms. Lucy nuzzled right into his neck with her arms wrapped right around his shoulders. “What’s with you not being a good girl for Mama?” Daniel asked her quietly, pressing his fingers into her side to make her giggle a little. “Had to take an early lunch break for you, Princess.”

“She’s a princess alright.” Florence mumbled, staring up at the two of them in front of her.

Daniel took sniffling Lucy on a gentle stroll around the waiting room, humming to her softly to help calm her down as they waited for the doctor to call them back in to finish the appointment, his hand rubbing soothing stripes over her back as she clung onto him. Soon, they were back in the patient room and Daniel had Lucy sat on his lap for her needles and she simply clung right onto him and buried her face in his chest while the doctor gave her the vaccines. She cried – loudly, still – but her much better obedience with Daniel had Florence rolling her eyes across the room.

When the appointment was over and Lucy was happily sucking on a lollipop in Daniel’s arms, her tear streaked cheek resting against his shoulder, the three of them headed outside. Florence was quiet.

“Look at me.” Daniel said softly, reaching out with the arm that wasn’t holding his youngest to stroke his wife’s cheek. She glanced at him flatly. He assured her woes with a quiet, “Not your fault.”

“I’d be so freaking lost without you, it makes me mad sometimes.” Florence sighed.

Daniel smiled and slid his arm around her waist to pull her close and he pressed a kiss to her lips, “I know. You always need to hold my hand when you get needles too.”

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines

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mischiefandi · 4 years ago

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A Shitty Love Song (Part 2) - Stiles Stilinski

Altered State Of Mind

A/N: hi guys!! im super happy im posting part 2 of this series :)) I really hope you like it and once again, huge thank u to @duskholland for all your help <33

Summary: Y/N is a 17 year old girl who struggles in an epic battle against herself. Whether it is amor’s icy grasp or life’s unexpected course that forces her to finally open up, only one thing is certain. The truth cannot be long hidden.

Warnings: panic attack, mentions of underage drinking, swearing

Word Count: 5,2K

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Y/N)

Series Masterlist

(picture is not mine -> credits to @ elevantarts on unsplash)

A blaring sound resonated in Y/N’s ears and she groaned, her fingers curling around the blanket she lay beneath. A throbbing sensation in her head forced her to pry her eyes open, sunlight seeping through the gaps in her eyelids.

Reaching up to rub her eyes, Y/N tried to sit up, the throbs against her forehead staggeringly more painful. When her eyes finally accustomed themselves to the light, Y/N glanced around, looking for the source of the insufferable noise. The blaring seemed to come from far away and nearby at the same time; Y/N was simply too tired to make any sense.

“Oh my god, my head,” she moaned, falling back against the soft pillow with a grunt.

“Would someone please shut that off,” a voice mumbled from underneath a heap of pillows and messed up sheets.

“Y/N, it’s your phone,” another voice groaned.

Passing a shaking hand over her face, Y/N forced herself to fully open her eyes and focused on the sound of the alarm, still shrieking in sync with her god awful headache. Reaching over her head, she grabbed her phone and put it on silent, thanking the universe for the sudden alleviating silence.

“Well last night was-“

“-crazy.”

Y/N shot a glance at Lydia’s bed where the strawberry blonde was propped up against her pillows, wiping off the smudged mascara beneath her big green eyes.

“I can’t even focus right now. What happened last night?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

“You don’t remember?”

“I mean, bits and pieces, why?”

Allison and Lydia exchanged a look.

“Uh, Y/N you went wild yesterday.”

“I did?” asked Y/N, worry seeping through her oily pores.

“We had to get a cab home cause neither one of us was fit to drive, and…you definitely threw up in the cab.”

Y/N groaned, a hand flying up to her forehead. “That explains the taste in my mouth.” She thought to herself.

“Yea, you got pretty drunk. Thank god, Stiles and Scott were there or you’d have passed out right on the dancefloor.”

“Wait, they were there?”

Allison sent Y/N a confused look, biting her lip.

“Well yeah, they got there about thirty minutes after we did. Did you not hang out with them at all?” she asked.

A sudden flash of colour appeared in Y/N’s head, the feeling of skin against skin, lips hungrily claiming each other, the smell of sweat and leather. She gasped, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Jumping up to her feet in a burst, ignoring the violent throb in her head, she rushed over to the mirror and turned her neck towards the right, her eyes widening at her sorry reflection.

“Are those-“

“Hickeys?” exclaimed Allison, leaping off of her mattress and onto the floor.

“Oh my god…”

“No way! Who are those from?” inquired Lydia, shock painted across her face.

“I’m not sure…” answered Y/N, her voice but a quiet murmur, her eyes still fixated on the deep purple marks scattered across her neckline.

In the back of her head, amber eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t help but notice the dark pit forming in her stomach.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Y/N stepped out of her bath, all of the dried up paint and sweat cleansed from her body. Stepping up to her bathroom mirror, she wiped the hot steam off the glass, the purple stains on her neck still very visible. She sighed, her fingers lightly tracing the mark by her collarbone, her mind elsewhere. She was at a loss.

Had it been him? Had it been Stiles? Maybe she had him confused with someone else, maybe she really had shared this moment with Jeremy. Maybe.

Y/N’s frown deepened. All that was left from that moment on the dancefloor was these purple love bites and blurriness. So much blurriness. Hundreds of questions and voices overlapped in Y/N’s head.

“What does this mean? Was it really him? What’s next?” She shook her head anxiously, quietly tapping against the steam covered sink.

Grabbing her phone with shaking fingers, Y/N typed in a message and sent it to the person she had had stuck in her brain all day long.

Y/N: did u ever show up at the rave?

Y/N: cause my drunk ass can’t remember a thing :/

Minutes seemed to last longer than hours as she waited by her phone. She sat impatiently on her bed, furiously tearing off the tips of her fingernails, occasionally drawing out a tiny spot of blood accompanied by a soft hiss. Finally, the buzzing sound of her phone snapped her back to reality and she unlocked it in a flash.

Stiles: yea I stopped by

Y/N stared down at her phone screen, puzzled.

Y/N: did you have fun?

A few minutes passed before his short answer came.

Stiles: yea it was alright

Stiles: I was just glad to get out of the rain

Y/N: the rain?

Stiles: yea it was raining when Scott and I got there

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she started typing in a new message, her hands abruptly pausing when her phone buzzed again.

(Y/N: did we hang out at all last night?)

Stiles: my dad’s asking me to help him out with dinner

Stiles: gotta go

Deleting her previous and thankfully unsent text, Y/N quickly typed in something else, her heart almost leaping out of her chest.

Y/N: oh okay, np

Y/N’s wet hair cascaded down her shoulder as she removed the towel from her head, letting her body gently plop down onto her bed.

Had she truly imagined it all? Something was off, but somehow, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The girl braided her damp hair and slipped under her toasty covers. Exhaustion soon took over her body and pushed her into a deep slumber, her dreamless sleep a tranquil break from her precipitating thoughts.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Amor loves to have one’s undivided attention. It slips through the thinnest of cracks and likes to hide behind your thoughts, carefully creeping around your mind, giggling at your confusion. Without even knowing it, you consume amor, you breathe it in, you bathe in it.

Amor is sneaky. Which is precisely how Y/N went about her day, ate, showered, studied, breathed without ever discerning her bewitchment.

Monday’s sunrays broke over the horizon, the song of gleeful robins piercing through the cool morning air. Lazily, Y/N slipped her clothes on and decided to walk to school, enjoying the crisp breeze. Autumn trees coasted along the route as she slowly carried herself to school, her tired eyes carefully observing the orange and brown leaves twirl down in timeless waltzes onto the cold concrete ground.

When she finally got to school, Y/N walked over to her locker, unlocking the padlock with her designated combination. As she placed the contents of her bag on top of the metal shelves and retrieved her chem notes, Y/N readjusted the wine-red turtleneck she had meticulously picked out from her wardrobe the day before.

“Uncomfortable but necessary.” She thought to herself as she turned around.

Her heart suddenly leapt into her chest, her eyes landing on Stiles’ dark blue flannel shirt. Taking a step forward, she was about to call out his name, when his eyes met hers. Time paused yet again, Stiles’ furtive gaze avoiding hers, his amber irises quickly looking down at his feet as he resumed his conversation with Scott.

A brief glimpse of the undeniable tension between the pair, a sight covered by amor’s thick layer of fog.

A wave of hurt washed over Y/N’s entire body, but she bit her lip and hurried off to class, choosing to ignore the feeling rather than dwell on it.

Class seemed to last even longer than usual, the constant tick-tick-tick of the clock rocking Y/N into a state of pure passiveness. The words spoken by her teacher floated around her head, seeping out through her ears almost as rapidly as they had penetrated her mind.

When the lunch bell rang, Y/N couldn’t help but exhale softly, releasing some of the tension stacked atop her weary shoulders since earlier that day. No matter how much she tried to focus on her notes, a chaotic whirlwind slowly formed inside of her, preventing her from following the teacher’s train of thought.

Her fingers furiously tapping against her thigh, Y/N stood up hurriedly and grabbed her bag, sliding its handles onto her shoulder. Pushing her way through the crowd of students, she walked out of the building and onto the school field, making her way towards the walnut tree.

“Hey, Y/N!” shouted Allison, waving her over with her gentle hands.

Y/N rushed over and plopped down by the brunette, breathing in the cool air.

“Where are the others?” she asked, noticing how empty the table was.

“Why are you so impatient? The bell only just rang,” Allison said, her light laughter filling the atmosphere surrounding them.

Y/N watched as the group slowly reunited, Scott and Kira walking over nonchalantly, arms linked together, followed by Isaac, unmistakingly blushing at the sight of Allison. Finally, Lydia joined the table and sat across from Y/N, her beautiful hair wrapped into a low bun.

“I am so hungry,” said Scott as he hurriedly took out his sandwich, eagerly taking a large bite out of it with a moan.

“I thought I was gonna pass out in calculus. I am so tired!” exclaimed Allison, burying her face in her delicate hands.

“Yeah, I still haven’t recovered from Friday,” agreed Lydia.

Y/N’s mind flashed right back to the sweaty dance floor, bursts of colour flooding her memory, and she bit down on her lip, shutting her eyes.

“Y/N, you okay?” asked Isaac. The group looked over at her, puzzled faces staring at her own.

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” she replied, her fingers dramatically twisting around the fabric of her coat.

“So, uh, where’s Stiles?” she asked, quickly but not subtly changing the subject.

Scott’s head slightly tilted to the right, a confused expression on his face.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Scott nonchalantly pointed at a table a few feet away from the walnut tree where the gang was seated, Y/N’s eyes following his lead. Her puzzled gaze landed on the dark blue flannel shirt from that morning, wrapped around a boy sitting across from a tall brown-haired girl, their heads buried in books, but their eyes fixated on each other.

“There’s this new girl, Malia Tate. He offered to help her with her math,” explained Scott, unaware of the pit deepening in Y/N’s gut.

As Y/N observed the pair sitting far away from the group’s table, the pumping muscle lodged between her lungs tightened with affliction, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

The voices surrounding her melted into each other, the sound of her friends’ chatter fading into the background as she kept on staring, the ache in her abdomen persisting.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Several interminable weeks had passed since this particular lunch break. November was slowly coming to an end, along with Y/N’s withering patience. The air had become cooler, and not just the one blowing through the leafless trees.

Stiles and Y/N’s friendship had started to abate, its previous progression suddenly coming to a strange halt, much to Y/N’s dismay. Her phone occasionally buzzed, the screen revealing only a brief answer on his part, or a funny picture or joke every once in a while. However, the long phone calls and texts until 2 am had seemingly come to an end.

Y/N couldn’t exactly pinpoint how it made her feel, but it didn’t feel good, that much was clear. Stiles hadn’t disappeared from the face of the earth, but his texts were spread much further apart, and when he was around, at lunch or in class, he wasn’t truly there, always focused on something else.

She couldn’t help but feel as though there was a void in her day, a gap only replenishable by the mole-speckled boy. She tried to distract herself from the looming feeling of loneliness by hanging out with Allison and Lydia, their light hearted conversations usually effective. Only, her attempts fell short as soon as she was alone again. It had come to a point where Y/N would count the hours between each message, trying to come up with reasons why he wouldn’t just text her back sooner. None of this helped of course.

Constantly thinking about the source of your pain can only do one thing: vivify it.

One rainy Tuesday, Y/N sat down at a table in the school cafeteria, dropping her lunch tray onto the cool surface with a soft thud. Squeezing in between Lydia and Allison, across from Scott and Isaac, she reached for her apple and bit into it with a satisfying crunch as the chatter surrounding her slowly increased.

The girls chatted as the boys focused on Scott’s phone, their eyes glued to the screen.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at them and leaned forward, snapping her fingers just a few inches away from their faces. Scott’s head snapped upwards and Isaac startled, the pair releasing a breath as she chuckled.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” she asked.

Isaac handed her the phone before grabbing his turkey sandwich.

“Our English teacher showed us this website with a bunch of riddles and we’re trying to figure some of them out,” Scott replied, pointing at the screen as Y/N slowly scrolled down.

“You guys are studying riddles?” Allison gasped. “Why do we always get stuck with the boring English teacher?”

“The more you take, the more you leave behind.” Y/N read one of the riddles aloud.

“Footsteps,” replied Lydia with ease, nibbling on her carrot sticks.

“Okay genius, what about this. What is easy to get into but harder to get out of?” Allison asked, peering over Y/N’s shoulder.

Lydia paused, reflecting quietly as the group observed her furrowed brow with amusement.

“Can I give it a go?” asked Isaac, hand raised.

“Go ahead.”

“Trouble?”

“That’s it!” replied Allison.

“Of course you’d get that one right,” Y/N joked, shaking her head.

“Oh okay, try this one. Who has married hundreds but still stays single?”

Suddenly, Stiles’ voice resonated in Y/N’s ears as he sat down next to Scott, his lips curled into a grin.

“A priest,” he said, accompanied by a soft click of his tongue.

“Correct,” replied Y/N, pointedly staring down at her apple.

“Speaking of weddings…when’s yours Stiles? We’re all invited right? And is it an open bar or have you not yet discussed your opti-“

“That’s funny, Isaac, that’s very funny,” answered Stiles. “Yeah, I’ll make sure your invitation gets lost in the mail.”

“Seriously though...Malia?” asked Scott, a sly smile drawn on his lips, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.

Stiles blushed a little, avoiding everyone’s gazes as he watched his fingers repeatedly tap against the table, his lips pursing together.

“Malia, the girl from your math class?” inquired Lydia.

“Yep, and they’ve been talking…a lot…” Scott teased, his voice higher than usual. Stiles shot him a glare and shook his head in disbelief.

“You can’t keep a thing to yourself can you?” he laughed.

“Wait, so are you guys…?” Allison asked, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

Y/N shot a glance at Stiles, her heart picking up its pace as she waited for a response.

Was something going on between them? Were they just friends? Was Malia the reason why Stiles and her weren’t talking as much?

“We’re talking. She’s fun. It’s fun. Talking, is- fun,” Stiles said, fumbling his words in embarrassment, his cheeks flooding with red.

“Wow, you’re smitten aren’t you?”

“Okay! Guys, let’s give him a break from the interrogation. He looks like he’s about to explode,” exclaimed Y/N, desperately trying to change the subject, for both their sakes.

Stiles sent her a grateful look and chuckled, the group moving onto another topic, enjoying their lunch together before classes started anew.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Later, after the busy day had winded down and the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, Y/N lay on her bed, the tiny fairy lights hanging on her wall catching her eye as she quietly hummed along to Peach Pit. As the leader singer gave way to the guitarist’s blissful riff, her phone buzzed, and her quiet bubble burst.

She sighed as she reached for it, her fingers connecting with the cool screen. Her tired eyes adjusting to the sudden blue light, she focused on the screen, her lips curling into a soft smile as she read the words she had just received.

Stiles: what comes in hard but comes out soft?

Stiles: tip: you can blow it

Y/N: you’re disgusting

Stiles: excuse me

Stiles: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Y/N: what is it?

Stiles: it’s gum

Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes at the pervy connotation.

Y/N: ha ha ha

Stiles: it’s not my fault you have a dirty mind

Y/N: yea yea, I was completely innocent before meeting you guys

Stiles: please

Stiles: there’s nothing innocent about you

She stopped, rereading the words carefully, her memories from the Halloween rave flooding back. Those god awful colours just couldn’t stop dancing in the back of her mind.

Hesitantly, she typed in her answer.

Y/N: so what’s up?

She patiently waited, her hands still holding onto her phone, the soft music in the background rocking her peacefully.

Stiles: well

Stiles: I’ve been talking to Malia a lot

Y/N: how’s it going with her?

Stiles: actually we’re hanging out tomorrow

Stiles: in the woods

Y/N felt a pang of hurt in her abdomen but she swiftly ignored it.

Y/N: wow

Y/N: is this a date?

Time stopped for a few seconds before his painful answer showed up on the screen.

Stiles: I think so yea

Y/N: damn

Y/N: so you really like her huh?

Stiles: yea she’s great

Stiles: she’s kind of dominant too?

Stiles: very assertive

Stiles: it’s

Stiles: interesting

Y/N: you like that?

Stiles: it’s definitely not something I’m used to

Stiles: but yea it’s nice

Stiles: I haven’t really talked to anyone about this besides Scott so don’t tell anyone please

Y/N: ofc not

Stiles: thanks

Stiles: quick question

Stiles: might sound weird so don’t judge me

Y/N: go ahead lmao

Stiles: what do you do before you kiss a girl

Stiles: do you ask for permission or do you just do it?

Y/N’s heart momentarily stopped beating and she gulped, her eyes fixated on the surprisingly hurtful words. Her mind completely blank, she paused the music from her computer and passed a hand through her hair, trying to think of an answer. Finally, she drew a deep breath and replied, her hands steady as stone.

Y/N: there’s no answer to that haha

Y/N: you have to do what feels natural

Stiles: yea, you’re probably right

Stiles: just don’t want to mess it up

Y/N: you won’t

Stiles: thanks

Y/N: tell me how it goes!

Stiles: will do

Stiles: and thanks again

Y/N: npp

Y/N shut her phone off and plugged her charger in, placing it on her bedside table. Turning off all of the lights, and drawing her bedroom curtains to a close, she settled beneath her comforter, spreading her limbs with a wide stretch. As she shifted onto her side, placing her hands underneath her cool pillow, she let her eyes roam around her bedroom, thoughts churning in her head.

He had feelings for this girl. Stiles actually liked Malia. And not only was he going on a date with her, but he had talked to Y/N about it. Had she really just imagined it was Stiles on that dance floor? Had she really just mistaken the person kissing her, sliding his lips up and down her neck as she held onto him? And if so, if all of this was purely just her mind playing tricks on her, what did that mean? Did she want it to have been Stiles?

Amor was lingering around her head but she couldn’t see it. All of these questions bustling in her mind soon blended into silence as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next day flew by in a blur of classes and scribbles on sheets of paper, a bland and monotone school day. Only one event stood out.

Stiles: well it’s official

Stiles: Stiles Stilinski is a bachelor no more

She congratulated him and heard all of the details surrounding Stiles’ date with Malia. The brunette had laughed at his jokes, she’d held his hand, they’d walked down the stream in the woods, talking endlessly, and then he had leaned in and kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

What the group had originally thought to be a fling had turned into something more, it had become a real serious relationship.

More absent than ever, Stiles spent most of his time with his new girlfriend, enjoying the feeling of her lips against his own when they kissed each other and the complicity between them. Everyone could tell he was beyond excited about the thrilling sensations that came with young love, though no one other than Y/N knew just how much.

Every day, her phone buzzed, the notifications reminding her that her friend loved making Malia laugh, or that Malia liked the same band he did. Reminding her that he was happy.

And Y/N was unbelievably happy for him as well. She tried to focus on the positives, mainly the fact that the pair had started talking again. Things had gone back to normal, their inside jokes rekindled and their conversations more frequent. But still, something just didn’t sit right.

Y/N pushed this feeling away, diving into new hobbies and hanging out with her friends. As a child, she had always loved drawing and painting. As a matter of fact, she had even followed lessons in an atelier not far from her house, in her hometown. She’d always loved painting but as she had grown older, her extra time had become much slimmer and with life getting in the way, she had had to let it go.

Then one fateful December afternoon, Lydia forced the girls to paint with her in the art room at school. Much to Y/N’s surprise, the tranquility she had felt as a child while holding a brush came back unbelievably naturally.

It was like the brush had never left the palm of her hand. So she started painting again.

When she wasn’t studying or spending time with the pack, creating timeless memories with them, she was hidden away in her room by the window, her fingers curling around her paintbrush, her hair wrapped into a loose bun.

The simple act of turning thin stripes of colour into shapes and scenes was so beautifully appeasing to her. With every flick of her hand, with every twist and turn of blues and yellows onto the white canvas, she felt herself come alive again. Every worry, every disappointment, and every doubt poured out of her hands and blended into the mythical paradises she painted.

Sometimes we live without something, and we don’t realize just how much we miss it until we let it back in. She had missed this terribly.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

As the early mornings became darker and darker with every passing day, Y/N spent hours watching the sky and the leafless trees, observing time and its slow and tantalizing movement. She memorized the scenes before her as she got dressed for school, her eyes lingering on the dark blue sky outside and the yellow halos of light emitted from the streetlamps.

Sometimes simple things like the way your eye catches the light can be astoundingly beautiful. Y/N paid attention to details in order to paint them later. Every trace, every shadow, every speck of light was equally important.

One morning, finally ready for school, Y/N walked out of her home, adjusting the red beanie on her head, her bag swung over her shoulder. The frosty morning air greeted her and she thanked herself for having decided to wear her dark grey wool sweater. Turning on the ignition (and the heat) of her dad’s car, Y/N left the driveway, and made her way to the high school, the sun slowly but surely peaking above the horizon.

Y/N’s fingers furiously tapped against the steering wheel of the car, the school coming into eyeshot. Classes were becoming more and more exhausting with winter exams right around the corner. The air was tense inside the school, students talking about their exam schedules and fears about their upcoming performances.

Y/N was nervous too. She was a good student, but quite often, she would get lost in her thoughts, ignoring her teachers rant about equations and The Scarlet Letter. She studied and she handed in her essays on time, however doubt clouded her mind, and maybe her hard work wouldn’t be enough.

These thoughts played on a loop in her head as Y/N attended her first two classes, time ticking by slowly.

When Y/N entered her classroom for the third period, students shoved past her, quickly exiting the room and heading on to their next lesson. She slumped into her seat, her bag landing on the surface of her desk with a thud. As she waited for her history professor to get to class, her eyes scanned the room.

She watched her fellow classmates enter the room, chatting loudly, groups forming around students seated on their desks or lingering by the windows. She glanced to her right and noticed Stiles, always recognizable due to his colourful flannels, seated a few desks away from her, close to the blackboard.

“Stiles!” she called out his name, puzzled. He didn’t have history class with her. Her eyes lingered on his arched back and she repeated herself. “Stiles?”

His back still turned to her flinched at the sound of her voice and she frowned before standing up and walking over to him. As she inched closer, she glanced down at his fingers, curled around the edge of his desk, the tips white from the pressure of his grip. His knee burst up and down at a furious pace as she placed her hand on his shoulder, the color draining from her face when her gaze fell upon Stiles’ contorted expression.

“Stiles, what’s going on? Are you okay?” she asked with a whisper as she bent down next to him.

He emitted a small whine, his breathing suddenly more audible.

“Sti, talk to me,” she murmured, rubbing his back slowly.

His breathing became more unsteady with every movement of her hand and he gasped, making Y/N’s heart leap in her chest. The room had started to quiet down, and she turned, quickly realizing the scene was starting to draw a lot of attention. Putting her arm around her friend, she stood up and dragged him out of his chair, his legs staggering as he followed her out of the room.

As soon as the pair had gotten out of the classroom and into the hallway, Stiles’ breathing tripled in velocity, his breaths short and intense. Y/N held onto him, treading as quickly as possible through the hall, trying desperately to get to the boy’s locker room, where they’d be alone.

Pushing past the crowd of bustling students, Y/N’s eyes lit up as they approached the blue door she had been looking for. The pair burst into the dim locker room, Stiles rushing over to the back of the room, his legs giving in under the weight of his shaking body. His breathing was erratic and fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he punched the floor, the pain in his knuckles incomparable to the burning sensation in his gut. Y/N ran over to him, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud, but she didn’t care, instead focusing on Stiles’ pale and tormented face.

“Breathe. Come on, breathe with me,” she said, an undeniable hint of worry in her voice she had difficulty hiding.

“I-I…can’t,” he gasped, a choked sob escaping his throat.

Y/N grabbed his quaking hands and held them in her sweaty palms, her eyes fixated on his.

“Sti, look at me. Look at me,” she insisted and he squinted at her through the thick tears spilling over the barrier of his eyelids. Soothingly caressing his shaking hands, her eyes piercing through his, she spoke, her voice a gentle anchor grounding him into reality.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m here. You’re okay,” she repeated, her voice slightly trembling.

She had never seen him like this. He was a shaking mess, his face wet and twisted in pain, his breathing still highly unsteady.

Stiles held onto her hands with difficulty, his chest heaving as he struggled not to give in to the never-ending waves of panic washing over his quaking body.

Y/N inhaled and exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Her exaggerated breaths were soon followed by his own weak attempts at controlling his lungs, groans of pain slipping through his gritted teeth.

“Here do this. Press your finger against one of your nostrils and inhale for 5 seconds with the other. You can do this,” she said, acting out her words as carefully as possible.

Stiles struggled to follow her lead but slowly, he pushed the tip of his shaking finger into his skin, blocking the path for oxygen through his left nostril.

“Okay, good. Inhale. 1…2…3…” she counted, and he inhaled with her, his breath occasionally bursting through his mouth.

“Keep going, come on. 4…5…Hold it in!” she cried, her eyes welling up at the sight of Stiles’ pained expression, his chest obviously about to burst.

“Okay, breathe out, with me. 1…2…3…4…5…” Y/N murmured, her gentle fingers caressing his hand. The boy exhaled with her and shook his head, almost as if he couldn’t believe the method was starting to work.

“You’re doing great. Switch nostrils now. There you go. 1…2…3…”

The pair breathed in and out in sync, Y/N’s hands still holding Stiles’. After a few minutes, each breath of his was accompanied by a slightly deeper one, Y/N’s shoulders loosening with relief as a wave of calm washed over her.

As the chaos in the room started to subside, she felt Stiles’ fingers tighten in her palm, his sweaty skin pressed against hers. She looked into his red-rimmed eyes and gave it a reassuring squeeze, her unoccupied hand reaching up to wipe the tears off of his weary face as her body shifted upwards.

Before she could touch his skin, Stiles caught her hand and pulled her into an embrace, his lips quivering tremendously as he broke down, warm tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Don’t leave, please. I need you. I need you,” he repeated like a mantra, his entire body going limp in Y/N’s arms, strangled sobs escaping from his sore throat. The girl closed her eyes as the felt Stiles’ heart thunder furiously against her chest, small tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered in his ear, tightening her embrace.

“I need you. I need you.”

A/N: hope u liked this part!! please reblog if u did :) feedback is also always appreciated <3

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gnollface · 4 years ago

Text

“My time with the Gnolls.”

(Wrote this as a proof of concept for another anthology project, reading it again i want to revisit it.)

"My time with the Gnolls."

📷

(Wrote this as a proof of concept for another anthology project, reading it again i want to revisit it.)

Excerpt from "My time with the Gnolls" by Dr. Jaysis Une

“When i first began informing my colleagues and friends of my desire to begin an in depth study of the Gnoll race the responses were more or less what one might expect and largely (and unsurprisingly uniform.)

The consensus being that I had, quite simply, lost my mind.

What more could there possibly be to know? Gnolls were mindless blood thirsty demon spawn and

To embark on such a course was akin to suicide.

I took no offense,

I like them, knew well the stories of the savage and brutal nature of the minions of Yeenoghu

“The goddess of slaughter”

“The ruler of Ruin” and any number of other terrifying descriptors.

The Gnolls were little more than horrific and infernal automatons focused solely on slaughtering any living thing standing before them so that they may in turn slaughter any that might further be found behind those tragic souls.

And So while this was not my first dangerous subject to pursue, it was far and away the most

And as such i did my full due diligence as a man of science and assembled all the knowledge i had gained personally to that point and sought out master hunters, warriors and soldiers to add any first hand information i was able before crafting a master plan and outline to maximize my safety while still maintaining my ability to study and observe my horrific quarry. My preparations took the better part of a year before i felt comfortable to embark.

But as the old Gnomish saying goes “All great tragedy follows once great plans”

And i am ashamed to admit it was a humblingly short amount of time until,

despite my best efforts,

my worst fears had come to pass and I found myself captured by the Gnoll warband I had,

To this point, thought I was following from a safe distance unseen.

For reasons i even now still do not fully understand the Gnoll scouts did not immediately kill me but brought me back to their makeshift camp and threw me to the bottom of a roughly dug dirt pit

its top covered with a crudely made barred gate of sticks and branches.

I landed awkwardly and the hard soil and clay bottom with a sound that sickens me to recall to this day.

I had only just begun to gather my bearings and assess the nature of my situation when a low and gravelly voice reached me from a darkened corner at the other side of the pit.

"You must go…..out." it said.

I quickly jumped up from my knees to my feet and backed myself against the wall in fear.

I was not alone in my cell

But a very distinct terror washed over me as my eyes, now adjusting to the dark, made out the shape of my new cell mate, another large Gnoll.

A flood of thoughts filled my head, was this some kind of Chieftain?

Was I to be its food?

Perhaps a toy to be sacrificed to their demon goddess?

What should i do?

I was a researcher, a biologist, not a fighter, i would not mount much of a defense against this hulking creature.

"Wuh-what?` `I replied, shaking in fear.

"They keep you….for Flind. ( Referring to a massive gnoll often serving as warchief for the band )

“Flind mad...when others...leave no blood." The Gnoll explained to me quietly seemingly struggly to capture each word in its head before using it

It said all this without looking over.

For whatever reason, perhaps something in its tone, my fear began to subside slightly, something led me to believe perhaps my new cellmate was not the threat to me I immediately feared..

"Why have they thrown you in here?" I asked him (i think it was a him) surprising myself, the words had left my mouth before i even registered the idea of asking it

I cautiously lowered myself to the floor against the wall opposite him.

"I am...broken." He responded meekly and though i can't be certain, i swear he smirked and chuckled as he made this comment.

Gnolls make such a variety of noises it's often hard to determine.

"Broken?" I pressed, confused, perhaps in his shallow grasp of common he had misspoke?

With this he looked down from the barred ceiling and towards me for the first time,

what little light that was reaching us at the bottom of our hole now reflecting in his yellow eyes giving them the appearance of glowing cinders.

It sent chills down my spine like ice water.

"I am….clean of Yeenoghu, I no…..hear yeenoghu, I do not….heed, I am clean.

Broken...they say." he pointed upwards as he explained to clarify whom he was speaking of.

Though his common tongue was not very fluid he definitely demonstrated a level of intelligence i to this point had never seen exhibited in a Gnoll.

The scientist inside me roared to life, my mind overcome with questions and possibilities, no longer considering the very real danger of my predicament. I straightened myself into a more comfortable position and swatted some dirt from my pants.

"My name is Jaysis, well met." I offered.

He turned his head away slightly and side eyed me

seemingly confused and slightly suspicious before returning his gaze skyward.

after a moment or two, perhaps after consideration

"Hoontra, I am Hoontra"

The large gnoll offered back tapping his big clawed hands against his chest as he too straightened to face me better, it was then, as he came more into the limited light that i noticed he was gravely injured,

both his legs were badly broken.

"You're hurt." i pointed to his legs stating what must have seemed obvious.

Hoontra shrugged,

"Dead soon...gone...Home soon." he replied as he looked up at the night sky through the bars as if contemplating the stars, calmly, and remarkably so considering his words.

As the night went on I started to more clearly notice His mannerisms and movements. they expressed a thoughtfulness that surprised me more than his intelligence.

Gnolls with thoughts?

It was then another thought came to me.

If Hoontra was resigned to his imminent demise what hope could i possibly have?

Well if this is how i am to die, I thought to myself, then I shall die as I lived, and I again pressed the Gnoll for more information.

"How did you become Broken?...eh Clean Hoontra?" i asked him

and again the big gnoll shrugged, not breaking his skyward gaze.

"Hoontra battle..and fall...hurt..Hoontra look quiet place to die, find pretty place, many trees.That place... mama call me, I wake up….clean, no mad, no hungry, no red, just Hoontra. Hoontra and Mama." with this Hoontra resignedly smiled, I suppose i can't be certain it was a smile, an exposing of the fangs for a gnoll is no rare thing…...but i like to believe it was.

I took in what he said in stunned silence, here i sat having a conversation with a Gnoll, what would the others think of this story? I’d likely never learn the answer to that question.

There Hoontra sat staring skyward, he showed no sign of pain, no sign of anger, sadness or anxiety, just what seemed contentment as he continued to look out into the night.

But each answer Hoontra gave me only raised more questions in me

"Who is Mama Hoontra? Who cleaned you? " I asked

With this question again Hoontra looked to me and extended his large muscular arm to the dirt wall besides him and gently pressed his large clawed fingers against a roughly carved image of a Unicorn head.

"MeekiLee, Meekilee is mama." The coincidences were too striking to not be comfortable in assuming that "MeekiLee" was his pronunciation or interpretation of Mielikki the forest goddess.

I was gobsmacked, was it true? Could the Gnolls be cleansed of their demonic taint? Had the ranger goddess cleansed this gnoll? But my internal debate was interrupted as Hoontra continued

"Meekilee forgive and clean... soon Hoontra die and run in tall grass...forever, and Meekilee run with me." Hoontra looked to a small wooden circle carved with the image of a unicorn he wore around his neck tied with some shoddy twine. He turned it around in his fingers for a few seconds before shifting onto his back exhaling deeply, as he moved. For the first time it was clear that he was in some pain

"I sleep...you escape...wake up Hoontra...Hoontra help" I nodded and smiled at this most surprising beast and crossed my arms, a million questions rolling through my mind keeping the the reality of my imminent death at bay.

After some time my thoughts however were broken by the sudden sounds of battle above. Hoontra quickly straightened up eyes wide. With a stunning speed he launched himself forward on just his arms, dragging his broken legs behind him and grabbed me.

He pulled me behind his huge body defensively and lowered his head in a gutteral snarl, the black mohawk of hair running down his spine spiking upwards. I tensed in fear suddenly overwhelmed by everything going on around me,

was this it? was this how i die?

I sunk my fingers into the tattered cloak Hoontra wore over his back and I closed my eyes when suddenly a loud BANG rang out from above followed by several gentle thuds.

Hoontras body tensed suddenly and then he exhaled deeply and his body went limp as he collapsed before me.

“Hoontra!” i said loudly as I shook him, paying no mind to whatever was above.

"Jaysis! Jaysis Une! are you down there? " a human voice called down into the hole as light suddenly surrounded me.

"Yes! im here!" I responded as I looked up and saw three armed men holding crossbows and a torch.

"You ok?" another of the men continued.

"Im unharmed!" I yelled back suddenly relieved

but that feeling quickly changed as I looked down at the body of Hoontra.

"Ok just hold on a minute. we'll find some rope and get you out of there." the men said as they walked out of my range of vision.

I rolled Hoontra over onto his back as gently as I was able, he was shockingly heavy, I surveyed his arrow riddled body and sighed as I struggled to pull his arms over to cross his stomach in some feeble attempt at a show of respect.

There was no way the men would have known, How could they? who in a million years would ever believe a Gnoll could be anything, but well...a gnoll?

I sat beside Hoontra for a few minutes collecting my thoughts, now being able to truly appreciate how big a gnoll is, knowing, id likely never be this close to one again.It was then i noticed that his one hand was closed in a fist, grasping the small wooden symbol of his “Meekilee”

a peaceful smile, yes, it was a smile, on his scarred canine face.

"Doctor! we're lowering the rope to you now." the men had returned.

"Gentleman!" i spoke back "I'm going to need to take this corpse back with me….for study " i said to the men.

The leader sighed "Doctor, there are plenty of dead gnolls up here we ...." he tried to explain when i cut him off

"No, I need this one, ten gold for each of you if you help me get it back to my home." With this the men's eyes widened and with smiles they hurried off to find more rope.

Of course there will be no study.

There is a clearing in my garden at the base of an old oak tree surrounded by different flowers and bushes and such. It has a clear view of the sky and the stars at night, I often sit there to read my books by candle light or a small fire.

occasionally, distracted by the infinity of the night sky i stare off and wonder about everything

and nothing.

This is where ill bury my friend Hoontra and perhaps ill leave a carved unicorn so Meekilee will know where to find her son so they may run together in the tall grass forever.

#gnoll #gnolls #gnoll fiction #dnd homebrew #fantasy fiction #short story #dnd #dungeons and dragons #fanfiction #dnd story #dnd stories

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cainfm · 5 years ago

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『BILL SKARSGARD ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like CAIN ROMANOV is here for THEIR SENIOR year as a LITERATURE student. THEY are 25 years old & known to be RIGHTEOUS, TRUE, EVASIVE & GUARDED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hdsjnf hello all ... it is james again ... here with another ... replacing noelle with cain bt it’s fine im fine. i’ve hit muse limit u wn’t hear frm me again ... so hit tht like button .. this isnt the best intro ive done bt mostly bc im just kinda like ... taking an old one n rewriting it as i go

TW CULTS, HEROIN USE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE, ABUSE, PSYCHOLOGICAL / EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, PTSD, ANXIETY, TRAUMA.

aesthetics.

dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one’s own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.

basic info.

full name: cain alexei romanov

nickname(s): n/a

b.o.d. - feb 19th, pisces :) happy birthday!

label(s): the connard (previously), the escapist, the facade, the fallen, the lothario (previously), the pariah, the phoenix, the puppeteer (previously), the sybarite, etc.

height: 6′4″ ... bruv.

hometown: stratford, connecticut

sexuality: bisexual uwu?

stats

inspired by: i feel like i did ... have an inspiration for him but i don’t ... remember ... so ur not getting this one ... i might edit this later if smth pops into my head but. alas.

biography.

born to connecticut senator vaughn romanov and well known philanthropist adelaide romanov, they were born into a life of privilege in a very prominent new england family. they’re the eldest of five in a very nuclear, picture perfect, preppy chic family.

was brought up to be a class a, outstanding, perfect citizen. golden child to the all american family (willfully ignoring the fact that his father came from russian immigrants). cain listened, obeyed, never strayed outside the lines.

it was always intended for cain to take on after their father, to follow in his footsteps and become a politician too. there were several expectations for them, including joining model un, debate, deca, splitting time between soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse, becoming class president, and all while maintaining a valedictorian - worthy gpa.

even volunteered on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks, proving to everybody in their community just how much of a gem they were, darling, perfect member of society.

always eager as a child, eager for approval, eager to impress and wow and dazzle authorities and adults alike - cain never really had a problem with any of it? always attended church on sundays and sometimes even wednesdays. participated in family dinners and christmas photoshoots and new years eve parties, easter egg hunts and family reunions.

born and raised in stratford, super close to lovell to the point where it’d always been expected that the romanov children would simply just go to radcliffe, as did their parents. their home in stratford is a big, fancy, seven bedroom eight bath house with two fireplaces and an expansive dining room. no pool, but a sturdy treehouse made by scratch.

however. their model citizen persona was just that, a persona - a charade. in the community and to his family, cain was a hardworking citizen who upheld standards, a leader. to classmates and peers, from elementary to college - cain was the devil themself.

arrogant, harrowing, an outright bully who tore down others when they felt like it, often unprovoked. they were the senator’s son, and a rich one at that - rules never applying because they simply never existed for them, the upmost privilege because of who their family happened to be and their place in society. tattlers of their behavior faced far more consequence than cain ever did, or would.

the sort of person who’d genuinely look down at someone if they had less than them - a narcissistic dickhead who cared about two or three people, tops, outside of their family. was never physically violent, nor did they raise their voice, but that’s what made them all the worse. made them all the scarier. spewed classist bullshit with ease and was addicted to the power high it gave them.

their only redeeming quality was their protectiveness over their family - never the best person, but family is family, and they thought it ought’d to be protected.

went into political science and business to please their father, mainly, every step they made - every path cain went down, every choice from the electives they took in high school to the brand of shoes they wore, was to build them into the ideal presidential candidate.

probably joined a frat though cain never participated in parties too often, known for keeping their composure even when others resorted to violence, or got too drunk, or caused any public commotion, because they didn’t like to leave a bad image for the press. did their drugs in private but left nothing to the imagination, publicly.

but alas. during college, two very important series of events occurred.

seeking thrills, searching for fun in all the wrong places - cain became a middle-man between dealers and producers. never dealt it, and never produced it, but simply transported it between one another; the less everybody knew about each other the better. it was always a very hushed operation. one that they could’ve profited much off of, though money was never the motive for them.

and then he met earl and may meyers, fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive; an older couple immediately drawn to cain, reasonable considering just who their father was, and cain to them. they can’t tell you what about the couple was so appealing - the air around them was something else entirely; some called it unhinged, others would call it comforting. but they were kind folks, down to earth - very religious, and very warmhearted. liked his name, a lot - like in the bible, they’d say, and laugh, and pat his arm. they would say, on occasion, that they reminded them of their late son.

it’d happened towards the end of their junior year, a few years after they’d gotten involved in the drug business - and the meyers were volunteering more and more, always at the same places as cain. the same times, too, as if they were learning his schedule. in retrospect - it was odd, but cain’d never suspected a thing. they kept talking, and it became a genuine friendship - a secured vote in the next election.

it only took a few months into this that they’d begun to talk about religion more. the sin of wealth, and god choosing only a select few when he cleanses the earth. only the worthiest souls. they’d eventually get into the rhythm of telling cain they were special - that they could see they’d be selected, see it in their aura, in their dreams, god sending them messages, etc. most would find it to be absolutely ... bonkers.

but it was oddly appealing to cain - like, maybe i am being constrained by capitalism. maybe i am disappointing god - aren’t i a devoted follower? it felt nearly ridiculous, but it seeped into their mind. psychological manipulation, lasting over months and cain unsuspecting. as if they could ever be the one manipulated. but the meyers could ask cain to jump, and they’d simply say - how high?

soon enough, earl and may told them that they were moving. that there’d been so many more like them and that it was time to join them, time to prepare - to get ready for the rapture. cain held off at first, finishing up their first term of their senior year and their life planned right before their eyes. everything they’d ever worked for. their loyal companions and close-knit family, their side-business that’d only gotten stronger - a long-term girlfriend and the engagement ring that burnt in their pocket, made their heart beat twice as fast at the very thought. still the same as before, cruel without a cause, but still surrounded by those who loved them - who could find something in them to love.

but a month into their senior year, cain had a sudden change of heart. they were ready, now, if not now then never later. all because of a third event. a surprise. a shock. a betrayal.

they had discovered that they were not their father’s child - not at all, not even by an inch. they were someone else’s, completely. their mother had broken down and cracked, after a particularly straining christmas party. the discussion was long, and the heartbreak only grew. the anger only grew. the hurt - it grew. more and more, with each pitiful sob their mother gave them. it was a mistake - a one night stand in a fit of petty anger in the very early stages of their marriage. and only cain knew - like they had to carry this weight, now, that they never asked to have.

it was the kind of information that broke a person. cain idolized their parents, done everything they’d ever asked - ever expected, and beyond, let them mold them like putty into whatever form they wanted. only to find out that in the end, it didn’t matter. it never mattered, if cain wasn’t the blood child of vaughn. if their mother - a woman who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, was nothing but a cheat and a liar.

cain unraveled.

they spent the first week getting into an altercation with near anybody who looked at them wrong. physical, usually - though arguments arose frequently as well. with no explanation, only thrown fists - often drunk, or high, or sober too - it never mattered. they spent a night in county jail, it’d gotten so bad. it seemed to have no end.

right until new years, just after midnight, when cain had disappeared without a word. it was treated like a missing persons case, though there was no evidence of foul play or kidnapping, and not much could be done about it.

BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

the only people who knew of cain’s whereabouts were the meyers - because they had left together. a last minute decision that, if they had only waited a simple minute longer, would’ve never happened. a mistake they desperately wished they could take back. a mistake that led to another event - maybe the most important one of them all.

they’d gone only hours away from stratford, and lovell, the border between new york and connecticut and not as far as cain had initially thought, but deep, deep into the woods. that was where the cult’d been. they wore white linens and cotton, but never mixed. technology banned, prayers and daily chores. it was natural, at first. for the first three months, that was.

it could’ve been grand. it was peaceful, and mind-clearing, and they treated cain as if their birth was a sign from the angels. cain come to undo his past. a potential leader. but the longer they stayed, the more apparent it became that they weren’t all that the cult had wanted, so desperately, to believe. once they began to slip up, once members became displeased - that’s when the punishments began to occur.

sometimes once a week, but sometimes - and, later, much more so, multiple. the memories are suppressed, for the most part - but there are some things they simply can’t - the hands, they can’t forget. pulling, and tugging, and gripping - begging, asking him to repent, please, repent. their head held underwater, counting seconds until their vision’d eventually darken and go out, only to be pulled out gasping and sobbing. these memories stay - these memories repeat themselves, like a record stuck on repeat, days blurring into one another.

when they tried to fight back - they were subdued. heroin was the first step. little by little, everyday - enough to leave them in a high they wouldn’t remember; enough to burn a hole in their memory. and with these dimming memories, cain’d begin to sneak paper and pencil into their living arrangement, their room, writing everyday. wrote as much as they could remember from home - about their family, their life before it all - the people they loved. they couldn’t remember what they’d written, some days.

and when those notes were found, bound by thread taken from their own clothing to form a shabby book - that’d been the final straw. dragged, kicking and screaming - mind-numbingly high, into place. the twisted reenactment, retelling of cain’s demise. how exactly he’d gotten his scar. it would’ve been near perfect, if they had only stayed still and let them brand the mark into his forehead. but instead - they settled, eventually, for the chest. then - the left cain to die in the middle of the woods. in the middle of nowhere. no trails or campsites to follow, nothing at all. nothing but trees. nothing but his notes and the clothes on their back. they hadn’t even known what day it was - almost forgotten the year, too.

cain should’ve died there, but cain got up. and they ran. and ran. and ran. until they hit something, eventually. a road. it’d been pure luck that they’d found a car near immediately afterwards, whose driver wasn’t doubling as a murderer, who took them to the hospital - and who gave cain that chance to live. they were found on new years, a full cycle - a full year in the cult that’d changed their life.

END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY / ADDICTION BEYOND THIS POINT.

after being reunited with their family in the hospital - everything went by very fast. they couldn’t recognize their youngest sibling, but they also couldn’t remember why they’d left in the first place. couldn’t remember the name of their girlfriend, but the color of her hair and the way she smelled. they couldn’t give answers to their actions.

and after being put into therapy and recovery for their addiction - that’s when they find out that their father’s a presidential candidate, that they had been - that they used cain’s disappearance as a story for the press, one to garner votes. their return is national news, and their public opinion skyrockets. it’s supposed to be glorious, and a miracle, a blessing - but cain feels restrained. confined to the role they’d always been expected to play - expected to get up and continue with their life, as if nothing had happened.

but nothing didn’t happen - everything happened, and cain’s different now, vastly so - no longer who they thought they were. they change their major to literature, abandon politics. they get some cats, start working at the library, and they put on some leather gloves - their method of staying away, of keeping a comfortable distance. they are different, now, and simply only wish to focus on their recovery.

personality.

they’re no longer who they once were. a year of trauma does things to a person - and with memory loss that weighs heavy on their mind, they are near completely different. they remember parts of their old personality, their old lifestyle - enough to know they want to be better. they’re convinced that it’s karma, what happened to them. for being who they were - acting the way they did. just ... a bunch of self-blame.

even with the massive ego, cain’s always been a quiet person. but now - now cain’s even quieter. kinder, if not a little sarcastic, like a relic from the past. they’re distant - but it’s one of fear, restrictive and tense - not one made out of their own comfort.

smokes medical marijuana but rarely drinks ... as if that’d make a difference. in an effort to beat their heroin addiction, they’ve turned to prescriptions instead.

like i mentioned ... cain has four cats. it’s basically their entire personality. two of them were from before their disappearance, but two are new to their little (school-approved) family. there is: frank (big chungus when yelled. white and gray), brock (orange. fluffy. stoic. devours food), shoelace (black furred, missing an eye and half an ear), and crunchwrap supreme (crunch for short. calico with bent ears). yes, they have photos of their cats in their wallet.

cain’s memory is fucked - like, really fucked. they forget a lot of things. short term, long term. it’s a constant struggle. they managed to keep their notes from the cult, so those help - but not always. they forget dates and names and faces and events. sometimes they wake up and don’t know where they are. they don’t sleep often, anyways. with the trauma came night terrors, and in an attempt to avoid them they don’t ... sleep often. only a few hours a night if they can withstand it, because it’s frankly terrible.

they suffer from severe touch aversion. skin contact with anybody, of any sort, is enough to send cain into a full-blown panic attack. they were leather gloves more often than not in an attempt to combat this disadvantage, without hindering their dexterity too much. even with clothes, they’re not the biggest fan of physical contact. it won’t send him into a panic attack, but they visibly flinch away. they’re very clear from the get-go, if someone is too close to them, that they don’t like physical contact.

dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week. their therapist recommended that they keep writing their notes, after reviewing them himself, so cain does. they keep an entire journal where they write, and sketch a little, because it helps them cope and de-stress. it means a lot to them, actually.

also dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week - therapist recommended he kept writing after looking at his notes - so he does, keeps an entire journal where they write and like … sketch a little, because it helps them cope. means more to them than it would seem. but, unfortunately, part of their coping involves getting far too involved in their own mini-investigation of the cult they’d been part of. when the cult was tracked back to where cain’d been brought, they were already gone - and cain wants to know where. wants to know how to find them. wants justice, vengeance. wants nobody else to get hurt from them.

pretty blunt ... won’t go out of their way to announce that hey, they were part of a cult, and that’s why they’re gone and that’s why that’s the way they are now - but they also won’t lie about it, if the topic comes up in conversation. they don’t like delusions, don’t like secrets, nor do they like unnecessary attention.

being at radcliffe makes cain anxious because - well, they’re surrounded by people they’ve been doing wrong by for years now and they can’t even remember which ones. who, what, when, why - distant memories, if they’re even there at all. is constantly trying to figure out how to redeem themselves. they’d leave, if it hadn’t been their parents’ assistance that they stay there. so that someone always has an eye on them.

but like ...they screwed over a lot of people when they left. from plugs / customers to their ex-girlfriend, who they are, undeniably, still in love with (you can’t forget that feeling) - to their friends. like. everybody, pretty much KBJNSDFKSNLD

is often pretty high ... i’d say it’s just the medical weed but. alas :/ take a guess :/

hates cars & swimming & crowds. hates feeling trapped and will avoid it whenever possible. doesn’t want to be seen as unsociable, but it’s difficult.

they ... have a tendency to run away when they’re overwhelmed. likes to climb trees because they’re tall enough to. there’s a tree outside of their window that they climb out to frequently, even though it’s like a ~safety hazard~ or whatever. just really likes to hide out.

used to be in perkins when they last attended radcliffe, but they gave their spot to someone else and that was like - 100% fine w/ cain tbh. lives alone in moris now.

feels the need to redeem themself ... to like, everybody. like, they want to avoid conflict and be a better person, but it’s hard, and they don’t necessarily like confrontation either - and not everybody believes that cain’s changed. it wouldn’t be surprising if people were suspicious of cain, for whatever reason, because they don’t ... really have the best track record anymore.

developed a stutter as one of the results from their trauma. their voice is damaged from screaming and they’re self-conscious about it, but they’re working on it because there’s more important things to worry about. in general, cain looks ... gaunt, too thin, and generally sickly.

repeating senior year ... fr obvious reasons ... and probably won’t graduate anytime soon because they’ve changed their major so late.

can still hold a conversation & they’re not really afraid of socialization. it just takes a toll on them. they’re pretty lowkey, as a person. soft, sorta. quiet but they won’t be an asshole (on purpose). they like people! just. very low energy.

so like ... tldr ... not an asshole anymore ... dealing with a lot of trauma ... trying to be a good person ... yes ...

wanted connections.

locals... people they’ve grown up with their entire life. people they’ve wronged, people who idolized him, envied him, despised him, etc.

enemies... would love for a bunch of these just. a hoard of people who fucking hate cain. because it fits the bill. they could’ve bullied them, or wronged them, whatever. anything works. let’s make it happen.

exes... that they’ve dumped... old hookups, ex-friends, people they got into an argument with or fought before they disappeared last year...

ex girlfriend... that connection wld b rly neat!! i have it up as a wc rn but we can take that down ... will be holding intense american idol - esque auditions. remember that cain ws a fckn classist pig and probably only dated people who were also rich with influential families. (unless u present a very good case to me ... then maybe ... perhaps ...)

family friends... family rivals... people he knows mostly thru their family.

redeemable... people they’re trying to redeem themself to... trying to prove their worth, and that they’re a better person now, etc. etc.

old clients... :) angry clients. that they left in the dust.

perkins... people he knew from perkins ... old pals or maybe enemies idk he was pretty insufferable ... people he used to go to fancy parties with sometimes ...

angery... people so so so so fucking pissed at cain, for whatever reason.

reconciliation... reconnecting... used to be friends and we can be friends again :) and i will be better this time! i’m a slut for slowburns, especially slowburn friendships ... enemies to friends ... now THAT is sexy.

victims... of bullying ... :/ of their bullying specifically.

sof...t... wholesome content ... nothing but soft, understanding friendships ... or developing friendships ... make them feel welcomed again... forgive them...

an..g.st... friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies. miscommunication. betrayal. whatever u want.

no hookups!!! ... please only previous encounters. nothing in the present. because it just wldn’t make sense.

unless... eyes emoji. H DSJLFJKS just kidding! i’d accept MAYBE some kind of sexual tension but like ... the sort that hurts, because it just Cannot Happen (i will not let it happen). or maybe a fun, casual sexting thing but like. nothing physical. pleasthe.

fuck politics!... mayhaps, they hate mr. romanov and his politics or smth. he’s probably corrupt in some way, so! go at it!

aggression... i feel like a lot of the conversations between cain n other ppl start out rly ... angry bc theyre Mad. at them.

ok it’s bed time please plot with me.

#radintro #cult tw #heroin tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #trauma tw #ptsd tw #anxiety tw #manipulation tw #abuse tw #i think thts all ...

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witchywildfire · 6 years ago

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Low energy and your craft.

So if you saw my last small post about taking care of yourself you may think its just a random reminder to take care of yourself but, although it is very important to remember this all the time, this post links to it and a lot of this comes from personal experience. Although I don’t have any serious diagnosises, I have a few mental health problems that can cause me to “crash” when I am tired, stressed or simply not taking care of myself and I realised that I had no clue how to do anything when im like that and I know many people feel like this a lot of the time so what do they do?

Due to witches being a minority we are likely to be more aware of any problems those in our community suffer from because we are more likely to be open about these issues. I personally think this is a great aspect of such a close knit community like ours but there is surprisingly little information on qhat dto do if you, for example, suffer from low energy, mental illnesses or physical disabilities etc. all of which can cause you to be unable to be productive in general life let alone extra things such as spells and divination so to hopefully help those who are trying to keep up with their craft whilst suffering form these issues.

Sigils.

If you’re new here (welcome) you may not know about my obsession with sigils but trust me, after a few posts, you will realise it. Write them all over your room, on postits, in notebooks, on your skin, on scraps of paper, written in the air with your finger or even with your eyes (I do this often). Sigils are also incredibly versatile and can be easy to create and use whenever you want or need.

Drinks.

So everyone needs to drink right? (if your answer is no, I'm concerned) You can easily put intent into any drinks not only tea. Whilst you make it, drink it, stir it with a spoon or straw image your intent flowing into the drink then it flows into you as you drink it. Easy.

Food.

Similarly to drinks you can put intent into food as you make, eat or heat it up. Using intent is a very simple yet vital piece of witchcraft that requires very little concentration or energy as you just need to think about it.

Charm’s and glamour’s.

If you're feeling energetic enough to do something larger try charming things to give of a certain energy eg vitality or health. This can even be part of your daily routine to place a glamour on your hair or makeup or charm your medicine box or clothes. although strong charms may take more energy you can always do so when you have more energy and just activate or use them whenever you need.

Charging.

If you have literally no energy to do anything you can still support your craft by setting out some premade spells, crystals, water and tools to be charged (be careful with how you charge things as tools may be prone to rust and crystals may be toxic or fade in sun). You can even ask someone else to place the objects out to be cleansed and charged and simply send your intent.

Research.

You might find yourself in a position where you don’t have enough energy to get up and do stuff but writing and google are acceptable. In these cases it might be okay to do some research on which ever aspect of your craft you want to know more about or don't know anything about. I keep a list of things to research when I’m bored or feel like this and I have a correspondences book so I don’t fill my grimoire up with meanings of a gazillion crystals.

Candles.

These are pretty self explanatory. You can use a candle to burn way negativity or in relation to their colour or scent (if they have one of course) or even what they are made with. this allows you to bring a little magick into your home and provides a soft light and warmer surroundings. You can even get someone else to light it if you don’t want it too close to you.

Simple divination.

If you’re just sat in bed you have the opportunity and space to do some simple divination if you’re feeling up to it. Bibliomancy, tarot and pendulum readings are easy to do you might not even need to sit up for some divination techniques. They’re also quick and you dint need to unpack and repack a load of thins to do them, they can just be placed in a draw or on your beside table etc. when you don’t feel like doing it anymore.

These are just a few things I do when I’m feeling low energy, what do you do? Remember to give yourself time, you don’t need to force yourself to do things that will impact your healthy in a bad way. I hope you all have plenty of energy and feel better or at least okay soon. If yo have any questions, want to chat or have anything you’d like to add feel free to message me, send asks or comment. Hope this helped.

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Text

Bleeding Out

warnings: read and find out

jk this is just like 900 something words of total chaos so

ship: platonic ralbert

editing: nuh uh

Race peeled the red clown nose off his face and deposited it into his work bag, fishing around instead for the keys to his and Albert’s apartment. He had just finished his last shift at Bozo’s Bounce House, where he worked as a clown for kids’ parties, and he had about a half-hour down time until he and Albert had to go to their Waffle Worship Club on campus. He was already dreading the prospect of cleansing his face of the awful stage makeup that Bozo’s provided their workers. Reaching up, he gingerly ran a finger down his cheek, taking off a thick layer of white foundation and groaning internally. His face was going to breakout so bad, but work was work and if he was getting paid, what right did he have to complain?

He entered the apartment and unzipped his clown suit, letting it hang around his hips so that he could cool off a bit. The undershirt he had on underneath was stained with starchy red dust from the suit and Race wrinkled his nose as the smell. God, he really should wash his costume.

All at once, the silence of the apartment weighed in on Race and he realized that Albert had yet to make an appearance. Even more alarming were the little stains of what looked like blood surrounding the sofa. Race’s stomach dropped as he knelt onto the carpet, inspecting the droplets closely. They still looked wet and were an alarming shade of bright red- they were new. His eyes scanned the carpet for more stains and he soon found a trail of blood leading to the wooden floor of the hallway across the living room. He quickly crawled alongside the trail, only standing when he reached the end of the carpet. Blood was also splattered down the hallway. It was a significantly more consistent path, as if the source of the blood had started to bleed more heavily.

“Uh, Albie?” Race called, panic seeping into his voice, “You home? Where are you, dude?”

There was no answer and Race followed the wake of blood to the bathroom, where he found spontaneous splashes of it in the sink and on the floor, but no Albert.

“Albert!” Race shouted again, “This isn’t cool, where the fuck are you?”

He rushed out of the bathroom, anxiety fueling his legs to go faster as he sprinted down the hallway to Albert’s bedroom, his clown afro shifting sideways on his head in his haste. He burst into Albert’s room to find that empty, too.

Panic was making Race’s stomach turn in circles as he desperately looked under Albert’s bed, as if he’d be hiding under there.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Race mumbled to himself. He shook his head and stood back up, trying to think clearly through his nerves. Where was Albert? Why was there so much blood in the apartment? What the fuck was wrong with his best friend?

Suddenly, he heard a door open from somewhere in the apartment and he all but barreled out of Albert’s room, nearly crashing into the boy in question as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Albert, what the fuck?” Albert was standing in front of him, looking startled and holding a bloodied paper towel to his nose. Race almost screamed in relief and he reached out to grab Albert’s face, who swatted him away.

“Hey, whoa,” Albert said, ducking out of Race’s reach, “Calm down, Bozo, what’s got you worked up?”

“I came home to blood all over the fucking apartment!” Race exclaimed, relief and annoyance at Albert’s ignorance flooding his system, “I thought you fucking died or something. I was calling your name, did you not hear me?”

Albert pulled the paper towel away from his face and flicked a finger under his nose, sighing when it still came back bloody. He replaced the paper towel under his nose and fixed Race with an apologetic expression, “Shit, I didn’t mean to freak you out, man. I got a nosebleed ‘cause of this whole cold air front that’s hitting campus and I was listening to music through my headphones while waiting for it to stop, so I couldn’t hear.”

“What were you doing in the kitchen? Based on your little blood trail, you went all over the damn world,” Race snapped.

Albert shrugged sheepishly, “I was making mac and cheese. The nosebleed started while I was watching TV, then I went and chilled in my room for a bit, then I got hungry, so…”

Race softened, “Are you alright? How long’ve you been bleeding?”

“Only like, thirty minutes.”

Race choked, “Thirty fucking- Jesus, man, is that normal?”

Albert shrugged, “For me it is. My sinus’ are awful in cold weather, but they’ll adjust eventually. Anyway, I’m fine. Go wash that, uh, shit off your entire being. You look ridiculous and we have Waffle Worship in like ten minutes.”

No longer fearing for his friend’s life, Race relaxed, “Yeah, alright. Gimme like five minutes, I can shower fast.”

Albert shot him a one-handed thumbs up and smirked as Race trotted down the hallway, “Oh, and Higgins!”

Race turned around, slipping his clown shoes off and looking at Albert, “What is it, Bloody Mary?”

“You were pretty freaked out at the idea of me dying,” Albert said, cockily leaning against the wall, “Nice to know you care about me.”

Race scowled, which was entirely ineffective given his current clothing and makeup state, “I hope you bleed out, DaSilva.”

Albert’s hearty laugh rang throughout the apartment at Race turned on the shower, realizing belatedly that the blood still had to be cleaned up. He sighed, telling himself that in fifteen minutes, he’d be eating delicious waffles.

Do it for the waffles, Higgins, he thought to himself as he wet a paper towel in the sink, do it for the goddamn waffles.

we love our disasters

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable @aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @labert-dasilver

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

#newsies fic #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #chaotic boys #race works as a clown in this and i-#also al and race would definitely go to waffle worship club dont @ me

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cinderellyq420 · 4 years ago

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Jan8th21-Lifestyles

I think I am always searching for the “perfect” way to live. Like I just mean, naturally. I am very grateful for humans evolving, but we are so brainwashed & so caught up in so much bs. Lately i have been following people that live in a plant based commune on an island, in the jungle. The way these people are literally a community that comes together & takes care of each other. I am truly amazed. They wake up at sunrise, eat fruit generally for breakfast, & then shortly after do morning yoga. Then everybody has their job they do in the community. From building houses etc, to gardening & such.

They also come together to eat meals sometimes. & take breaks from their phones one day out of the week. They are all just amazing & truly aspiring & i hope to be like them some day. I know being here, I can not reach my full potential in this environment. But i really hope I can still achieve the vision I am looking for here at home. Thats the thing about this pandemic. I was already anti social, introvert. I was already very much comfortable staying home. My lifestyle really didnt change much at all since this took place. So at home, on our little piece of land, its so peaceful. But its like, as soon as we drive out of the driveway, we are in redneck republican christian bbq city. I am sure i am the only vegetarian/vegan here. i am literally surrounded by cows, cow farms. Im really not sure what they do to them to be honest. I tell them i love them every time i see them. I really hope they treat the cows well here🥺

We have 9 animals in total right now. 3 dogs, 1 cat, 3 pigs, 1 bunny, & 1 gecko. I live my life every single day for them & i live by that, for real, they are my babies. All, but one are rescues. One chihuahua was born into the family & i knew i would be keeping her. We rescued everyone else. It can be a lot sometimes, but i love every single one of them all so much. We have to feed them every day, which takes about 45 minutes to an hour & snack time too of course. We need to play with them more & i have a feeling we will soon. We dont get to go out or travel like we would like too. Its not easy to just find someone, let alone trust anyone enough to care for the babies. No one loves them like us or understand how theyre family & how important they are too us. They all have their stories, each unique in their own way. Penelope is baby 🐷

Our babies definitely are our reason for change. I went vegetarian shortly after adopting Penelope. Now look at us both on a cleanse. I really hope we keep these healthy habits going & maybe even get a bit healthier.

My tooth aches & headaches at 3 am on a friday, i think im a call it a night for now. good night my dudes!

0 notes

magickalmenagerie · 7 years ago

Photo

We are in the midst of an amazing astrological time, and that is why we wanted to release a bulletin for you – make the most of this beautiful time period! The powerhouse of Mars is going to supercharge this time period for everyone, and as we are in the shadow period of Uranus before the retrograde, we will find that some of our most ancient problems, concerns, anxieties, and traumas are being reawakened within us. Toxins that are years or even decades old are attempting to make a powerful appearance now, and it is important that we take time out to deal with them.

What is upsetting you right now? What has you concerned, angry, or worried? Don’t look at the surface of that problem, but look at old memories, experiences, habits, and traumas that may have magnified that for you. Now is the time to reprogram your brain and start manifesting something you truly like.

You are going to feel overwhelmed with a very astringent energy during this time period, as the spirit is taking time to detoxify and start anew. As we are in a new astrological age that is brimming with change, we all find ourselves in a sort of boot camp that is pushing us to release old wounds and embrace new abundance.

You are going to find that during this New Moon, Mars squares up with Uranus which is falling into retrograde soon – part of your releasing the old will feature rebelling against authority, possible arguments, detachments from people who no longer suit you, aggressive forward movement, plans, strategic actions, and a lot of artistic expression. You are going to feel yourself overwhelmed with passion, but passion without purpose or direction is a ship with no sails. You will be surrounded by opportunity but unable to take it anywhere. Take the time in advance of the new moon’s approach to set your goals. Write down anywhere from 5 to 10, be specific, give them dates, associate them specifically. Don’t say “I’d like to have more financial freedom.” Set a goal with the intention. “I will make $1,000 through my start-up company by the last day of August.”

Even if, for some reason, you do not manifest these specific goals, you will find that you are much closer to them than you would have been otherwise simply by placing a heavy amount of energy into a perceived outcome. Put sails on your ship and you will invariably head in the direction of the wind you choose to propel you.

Avoid an over-active ego or too much aggression during this time period. The astringent quality of the energy will have you mildly uncomfortable, and will build up over time, having you ready to pop off at someone who may not deserve it. Change your mode of thinking and operating during this time period. Understand the purpose of what you are doing. Understand your goals are not the responsibility, duty, or impediment of anyone else, and do not accept these messages from others either. You will not gain anything from aggressive interactions during this time period unless they are oriented toward the permanent release of a person or a truth that you have been withholding.

The best thing to do during this week and during this new moon cycle (You will invariably feel the vibrations of this new moon for a few days before and after it), is to put all of your aggression, fears, instability, and anxiety into a work of some sort. Rotate the tasks you can do while feeling this intensity. Do things with a purpose. Make sure that your self-care is good for your body. Have multiple tasks laid out that you would like to tend to, be they work related, home-care related, or simply a hobby such as reading or drawing. This is an important time to harness your aggression, as anything that is turned into an achievement will pay off for you later on. Follow your intuition at this time, as you will invariably know what is meant to benefit you and what to stay away from.

We would recommend taking this time as a time capsule. Find a notebook that is empty, or perhaps oriented toward manifestation and goals. Write down a status report of yourself. Whatever matters to you, mention it. Look at your goals and desires and see where you are in relationship to them. Write your relationship status, your physical status, your job, your finances, whatever you think will be important. Write down a healthy goal for any of these things a year from now. Set a reminder on your phone to revisit it and see how you have come closer to those goals or maybe oriented yourself toward achieving new ones.

This last wave of Cancerian energy is extremely important as it is supposed to help you wash away your guilt, your anxiety, your perception of lack, and any pain or ailment that is causing anguish in your body. You will even see this in a physical sense as many people are taking to body positivity, or even find themselves enduring different surgeries to come out healthier. Many individuals have the majority of their interactions with hospitals and healthcare during the Cancerian season.

Soon the Leo season will come, an astrological season of assertive action, strategy, planning, and career orientation. The Leo season is often where most people set their goals and find themselves empowered with the most energy to make it happen. It is important for you to face each of your uncomfortable emotions, toxic relationships, lack-of-confidence spells, and moments of tiredness and overwhelming thoughts. Utilize powers of forgiveness for yourself and others, and eliminate those thoughts by flushing them out with a new perspective. You must push the mess out of the way to allow the spotlight to shine on you, and it is time for you to take to task and become a leader this season. If you are reading this still, you are obviously feeling a connection with the vibration being sent out by this moon. It is a definitive clearing house. It is okay to embrace the things you are most afraid of in this time, to look for strength in difficult times, and to reorient yourself away from what used to be to what currently is.

This is a very important time astrologically as its point is to show us a new paradigm. This is a paradigm where money doesn’t lord over us and where the universe provides as is needed and as it is asked. We are entering a paradigm of fearlessness where we no longer embrace the worst case scenario and we no longer fear repercussions of others that truly do not matter.

Some extremely helpful things that you may want to try to do in the period between 7/18 and 8/3 are:

🦁 Write down a list of traumatic feelings and opinions you don’t believe in, and that you don’t believe serve you any more. Set them on fire, bury them, whatever you can do to symbolically dispel them.

🦁 Take a cleansing and rejuvenating bath – you can use Epsom or sea salts, bath bombs, or whatever makes you feel good. Set an hour aside for this, and try to make sure the bath is either very hot or very cold as you can tolerate it. Both temperatures can do something healing in a very different way. Calendula and Chamomile would be good herbs to use.

🦁 Write a list of goals and intentions for the next week, month, year, and five years on a piece of paper, preferably in a manifestation notebook.

🦁 Find four or five affirmations you would like to do in a day that would be important for you, and get an Affirmation Reminder app on your phone that reminds you to do this every day.

🦁 Do some cleaning in the areas that matter most to you. This may not even be in your home or office, but on your computer or phone. Change your wallpapers to suit a theme focused toward your goal, ambitions, or your thought process.

🦁 Make a dream-board on the computer, using pinterest, or using cut outs on a poster the old fashioned way. You will find that looking at familiar goal images really helps you bring your dreams into focus on a hard day.

🦁 Form an A-Team. This may be best suited to a chat group on facebook, or even an IM chat group through facebook, skype, or otherwise. Find a group of people that wish to take care of each other and keep tabs on each other. If you do not have this network, find manifestation groups, spiritual groups, and otherwise on Facebook that may help you expand your community.

🦁 Write nice things to yourself on your mirror, as you are going to have a rough go of it for a little while, and the best help you can find is right inside yourself.

🦁 Figure out a lifestyle you want for yourself and change one habit every day or two until you have made your lifestyle match your desire. If you have to work at it a bit to keep this schedule steady, don’t be hard on yourself. Use this time to try and get a sleep schedule that is efficient for you, a food schedule that is healthful, and find where your “you” time is during the day. Even if this is only during a commute or morning shower, spruce these areas up so that they are more nourishing.

🦁 Take time out of your day to remind yourself how far you have come each day before you go to bed. Even if you feel you haven’t changed your life much in the past year or two, think about the things you have endured in that time period that were not under your belt long ago.

🦁 After you wake up, light a candle, hold a crystal, or bask in the sunlight as you say your thanks for what you have and make prayers and wishes for those things you wish to have. Follow this with affirmations.

🦁 Be kind to yourself and others. The door to opportunity swung open, but this period of a few weeks serve as a very long, very steep stairway to your next step. Use this time to drop the baggage that doesn’t serve you, and learn to make the best of the baggage that you are carrying with you. Look up constantly, only looking back to remind yourself of progress.

You’ve got this.

Let the water wash your wounds, and then step forth with pride, Leo Season is near!

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woodsens · 5 years ago

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Where to Find Guest Blogging Opportunities on fireinsidemusic.com

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote greater than ten years in the past, the lady who arrived for being acknowledged only as being the piano Trainer offered what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her possess foreseeable future.

Im shifting away right now to a place so far-off, where by nobody is aware my identify, she wrote while in the lyrics of a tune known as Relocating.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano teacher and freelance songs writer who beloved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Seems, extended walks and every little thing about New York.

On a type of beloved walks, by means of Central Park in the bright sun of a June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and tried to rape her, leaving her clinging to everyday living. Once the assault, the terms to her track came legitimate. She moved away, away from New York City, away from her previous lifestyle, and all but her closest mates didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the planet, she was — much like the additional famous jogger attacked in Central Park 7 many years before — an nameless symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, over the 10th anniversary of your assault, she is celebrating what appears to be her entire recovery from brain trauma. She's 42, married, with a small child. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and she or he wants to notify her story, her way.

Her health care provider informed her it will choose 10 years to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I experience my life is redefined by Central Park, she claimed many days in the past, her voice comfortable and hopeful. Just before park; immediately after park. Will there at any time be described as a time After i dont think, Oh, This can be the tenth anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch home in a very wooded subdivision within a Ny suburb. She sat in a eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, darkish-haired two-year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed fifty percent the space, and at one particular point she sat down and played. Her enjoying was forceful, but she seemed embarrassed to Participate in quite a lot of bars, and shrugged, as an alternative to answering, when questioned the title from the piece. She asked that her daughter and her town not be named.

She calls that working day, June four, 1996, the working day Once i was harm.

Hers was the first in a very string of assaults by a similar man on four Women of all ages around 8 days. The final victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to Dying as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and ultimately, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to everyday living in jail.

But the attack over the piano Instructor may be the just one persons look to recollect quite possibly the most. A part of the fascination should do with echoes of your 1989 attack around the Central Park jogger. But In addition it frightened individuals in a means the attack to the jogger did not mainly because its situation had been so mundane.

It didn't happen inside of a distant Portion of the park late at nighttime, but near a favorite playground at three during the afternoon. It might have took place to any one. The tension was heightened with the mystery with the piano lecturers identification.

For 3 times, as police and Physicians attempted to discover who she was, she lay in a coma in her clinic bed, nameless. Her mothers and fathers were on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, one among her learners regarded a law enforcement sketch and was ready to identify her from the healthcare facility by her fingers, since her deal with was swollen further than recognition. The police didn't launch her name.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is supplying a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Street, then putting her extended hair in a very ponytail and heading out for the stroll. She doesn't keep in mind the assault, although she has read the accounts with the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a reality I realized and memorized, she claimed. As though I were being a pupil at school researching historical past.

youtube

She will not consider the man who did it. I might need been angry for any minute, although not much longer than that, she stated. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at New York Clinic-Cornell Professional medical Heart, as it was identified in 1996, explained to reporters that she had a ten % potential for survival. Medical professionals had to get rid of her forehead bone, which was later changed, to produce space for her swelling Mind. When her mother made a community attract pray for my daughter, thousands did.

Immediately after eight days, she arrived away from a coma, first within a vegetative state, then within a childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept small and talked continually, at times in gibberish. I was receiving mad at people after they didnt respond to these terms, she mentioned.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she experienced minor brief-term memory and would fail to remember readers the moment they left the place.

youtube

More than many months, she needed to relearn tips on how to wander, dress, read and compose. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every single day to Participate in guitar for her. He encouraged her to play the piano, from the advice of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could be disappointed by her incapacity to Participate in just how she once had. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets along with her, enjoying the left-hand element though she played the right.

That was my finest therapy, she said.

In August, she moved back again property to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited aged haunts and called good friends, hoping to restore her shattered memory. I was incredibly obsessive about remembering, she reported. Any memory reduction was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced dropped the ability to cry, just as if a faucet within her brain had been turned off. One particular evening, 9 months following she was harm, she stayed up late to observe the John Grisham Motion picture A Time to Eliminate. Just immediately after her father had long gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Adult males who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, along with the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mom and dad, my father, and the things they went by means of, she mentioned. Minimal by very little, my experience returned, my depth of mind returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to high school and acquired a masters diploma in new music education.

Not everything went effectively. She and Mr. Scherr break up up 5 years after the attack, though they remain good friends. She dated other Adult males, but she often informed them concerning the attack immediately — she could not support it, she explained — they usually under no circumstances called for a second date.

We've got to search out you anyone, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, said four many years ago, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and newbie drummer. For as soon as, she didn't say just about anything concerning the attack right up until she bought to learn Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her energy.

youtube

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had usually frequented her at her bedside when she was during the healthcare facility, married them in his Situations Square Business. She wore a blue dress and pearls. Whilst she was pregnant, inside a burst of creativeness, she and her pals recorded Even though Have been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she had created prior to the attack, including the song Transferring. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, developed the CD. On it, her spouse performs drums and he or she plays electrical piano.

Is her existence as it absolutely was? Not precisely, however she's reluctant to attribute the differences to her injuries. Her final two piano students remaining her, without contacting to explain why, she explained. She has resumed taking part in classical new music, but basic pieces, because her daughter won't give her the perfect time to apply. As for jazz, I dont even check out, she stated.

She wish to push much more, sensation stranded within the suburbs, but she is easily rattled. She tries to be information with keeping dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a clinical professor of neurological surgical treatment at exactly what is now termed Ny-Presbyterian Medical center/Weill Cornell Health-related Centre, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the assault, reported previous week that her level of recovery was scarce. Shes essentially typical, he said.

Other industry experts, that are not Individually knowledgeable about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns case, are more careful.

Regaining a chance to Participate in the piano may perhaps require an Virtually mechanical procedure, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers have to do, said Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation drugs at Big apple College College of Drugs. As soon as brain-hurt, you are often brain-injured, For the remainder of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay reported. There isn't a get rid of, There is certainly only intense payment.

The greater telling Element of a Restoration, in his look at, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and youngster as a major victory.

For her aspect, the piano Instructor knows she has adjusted, but she has produced her peace with it. I had been type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a kind A, but I used to be formidable, she states. Why was I so ambitious? I had been a piano Trainer. I dont know what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im designed to be.

0 notes

redkiteradio · 5 years ago

Text

30 of the Punniest best keyboard to learn piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens music that she wrote a lot more than ten years back, the lady who arrived being regarded only since the piano teacher made available what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her have long term.

Im relocating away right now to a spot so far away, where nobody knows my identify, she wrote in the lyrics of a music known as Relocating.

When she wrote that song, she was young and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance music author who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, prolonged walks and anything about Big apple.

On a type of beloved walks, via Central Park in the intense Sunlight of a June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and made an effort to rape her, leaving her clinging to life. Once the assault, the phrases to her song arrived real. She moved absent, outside of Ny city, outside of her aged daily life, and all but her closest close friends did not know her name. To the remainder of the planet, she was — like the a lot more popular jogger attacked in Central Park seven years before — an anonymous image of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, to the tenth anniversary of the assault, she is celebrating what is apparently her entire Restoration from Mind trauma. She's 42, married, with a little child. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Instructor, and she or he hopes to inform her Tale, her way.

Her health practitioner advised her it could take ten years to Get well, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I truly feel my life has become redefined by Central Park, she said several times back, her voice comfortable and hopeful. Prior to park; following park. Will there ever be described as a time After i dont Feel, Oh, Here is the tenth anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch household within a wooded subdivision in the Big apple suburb. She sat within a dining place strewn with toys, surrounded by photographs of her cherubic, dark-haired 2-calendar year-old daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 % the area, and at one particular stage she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she seemed humiliated to Enjoy more than a few bars, and shrugged, as an alternative to answering, when questioned the identify on the piece. She asked that her daughter and her town not be named.

youtube

She calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the working day when I was hurt.

youtube

Hers was the primary inside of a string of assaults by a similar person on 4 Women of all ages about eight times. The last victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and finally, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to lifetime in jail.

Yet the attack on the piano teacher would be the a single men and women seem to remember essentially the most. Element of the fascination needs to do with echoes of your 1989 assault over the Central Park jogger. But What's more, it frightened men and women in a method the assault around the jogger didn't for the reason that its situation ended up so mundane.

It didn't happen inside a distant Element of the park late at nighttime, but close to a popular playground at 3 inside the afternoon. It might have occurred to everyone. The strain was heightened through the thriller from the piano academics identification.

For three times, as police and Physicians tried out to determine who she was, she lay within a coma in her healthcare facility mattress, anonymous. Her dad and mom were being on holiday and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, certainly one of her pupils recognized a police sketch and was ready to identify her from the hospital by her fingers, for the reason that her encounter was swollen over and above recognition. The law enforcement didn't launch her identify.

The last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is giving a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Street, then Placing her extensive hair in the ponytail and going out for the walk. She isn't going to don't forget the attack, Whilst she has listened to the accounts on the law enforcement and prosecutors.

To me its similar to a truth I discovered and memorized, she mentioned. As if I had been a university student at school researching record.

She won't contemplate The person who did it. I might need been indignant for a second, although not for much longer than that, she said. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I suppose by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health practitioner at Big apple Healthcare facility-Cornell Health-related Center, as it had been recognised in 1996, instructed reporters that she experienced a 10 percent probability of survival. Health professionals had to remove her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, to generate home for her swelling Mind. When her mom manufactured a community appeal to pray for my daughter, thousands did.

Right after eight days, she came away from a coma, to start with inside of a vegetative state, then in a childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept tiny and talked continuously, at times in gibberish. I used to be obtaining mad at people today every time they didnt reply to these text, she reported.

Like an Alzheimers affected individual, she had small limited-expression memory and would forget site visitors once they still left the space.

Over several months, she needed to relearn the best way to wander, gown, browse and produce. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited every day to play guitar for her. He encouraged her to Engage in the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Bodily therapists, who imagined she could well be disappointed by her inability to Participate in how she the moment had. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets with her, playing the still left-hand portion although she performed the ideal.

Which was my most effective therapy, she explained.

In August, she moved back property to New Jersey, with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She frequented old haunts and known as pals, hoping to revive her shattered memory. I used to be incredibly obsessive about remembering, she reported. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists imagined her progress was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had dropped the ability to cry, like a faucet within her brain had been turned off. One evening, nine months soon after she was harm, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham Film A Time to Eliminate. Just after her father experienced long gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Gentlemen who had raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, and also the tears trickled down her cheeks. I considered my dad and mom, my father, and whatever they went through, she explained. Tiny by minor, my feeling returned, my depth of intellect returned.

youtube

Urged by her sisters, she went back to highschool and got a masters degree in tunes education.

Not every little thing went well. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years after the assault, even though they continue to be friends. She dated other Guys, but she often advised them with regards to the attack immediately — she couldn't enable it, she mentioned — and they under no circumstances named to get a 2nd date.

We've to find you anyone, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, claimed 4 several years ago, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and newbie drummer. For at the time, she did not say something in regards to the attack right up until she bought to be aware of Mr. McCann, and after that when she did, he admired her toughness.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced normally frequented her at her bedside whilst she was in the healthcare facility, married them in his Occasions Sq. Place of work. She wore a blue dress and pearls. Even though she was pregnant, inside of a burst of creativity, she and her mates recorded When Were being Younger, an album of childrens tunes that she experienced written before the attack, including the music Shifting. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, created the CD. On it, her spouse performs drums and she plays electric powered piano.

Is her lifestyle as it was? Not precisely, nevertheless she's unwilling to attribute the variances to her injuries. Her final two piano college students left her, devoid of calling to elucidate why, she mentioned. She has resumed playing classical tunes, but straightforward parts, since her daughter will not give her time for you to observe. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she reported.

She want to generate additional, experience stranded while in the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be written content with keeping dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical procedures at what is now termed New York-Presbyterian Healthcare facility/Weill Cornell Medical Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann once the attack, mentioned very last week that her volume of recovery was scarce. Shes basically regular, he reported.

Other professionals, who will be not personally accustomed to Ms. Kevorkian McCanns case, are more cautious.

Regaining the opportunity to Enjoy the piano may well involve an Just about mechanical system, a semiautomatic remember of just what the fingers should do, stated Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation medication at The big apple College School of Drugs. Once Mind-hurt, you happen to be usually brain-hurt, For the remainder of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay said. There is not any remedy, there is only intensive compensation.

The greater telling Portion of a Restoration, in his view, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and baby as a substantial victory.

For her element, the piano teacher understands she has changed, but she has built her peace with it. I was kind of a hyper —— I dont know if I had been a Type A, but I was bold, she says. Why was I so ambitious? I used to be a piano Trainer. I dont understand what the ambition was about. I actually did come back to the person Im alleged to be.

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emilyl-b · 5 years ago

Text

10 Great fire inside music Public Speakers

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote a lot more than ten years ago, the woman who came to get regarded only because the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her possess potential.

Im transferring absent these days to a spot so distant, exactly where no person knows my name, she wrote in the lyrics of a tune identified as Relocating.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance audio author who loved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, lengthy walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a kind of beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the intense Sunlight of the June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to daily life. Once the assault, the text to her track came accurate. She moved absent, out of New York City, from her outdated everyday living, and all but her closest good friends didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the globe, she was — much like the additional well known jogger attacked in Central Park 7 a long time previously — an nameless symbol of the city nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, around the 10th anniversary on the attack, she's celebrating what is apparently her comprehensive Restoration from Mind trauma. She is 42, married, with a small boy or girl. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Instructor, and she or he really wants to convey to her story, her way.

Her health care provider instructed her it will just take 10 years to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my life has become redefined by Central Park, she mentioned a number of days in the past, her voice delicate and hopeful. Before park; just after park. Will there ever be described as a time Once i dont Believe, Oh, Here is the tenth anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch house inside of a wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat inside of a eating place strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, dim-haired 2-12 months-aged daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 % the place, and at one particular place she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she seemed ashamed to Enjoy various bars, and shrugged, rather then answering, when questioned the identify of your piece. She requested that her daughter and her town not be named.

She calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the day Once i was harm.

Hers was the 1st in a string of assaults by the exact same guy on 4 Women of all ages above 8 times. The last victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to daily life in jail.

However the assault on the piano Trainer will be the just one individuals seem to recall by far the most. Section of the fascination should do with echoes on the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But Furthermore, it frightened people today in a way the attack around the jogger did not simply because its circumstances were so mundane.

youtube

It did not occur in a very distant A part of the park late during the night, but close to a favorite playground at three from the afternoon. It could have transpired to any one. The strain was heightened with the thriller on the piano academics identification.

For three days, as law enforcement and Medical doctors tried using to see who she was, she lay in the coma in her healthcare facility bed, nameless. Her mothers and fathers had been on vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Eventually, amongst her pupils identified a police sketch and was capable of establish her while in the clinic by her fingers, mainly because her face was swollen further than recognition. The police did not launch her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Avenue, then Placing her very long hair in the ponytail and going out for just a walk. She won't keep in mind the attack, While she has heard the accounts in the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a fact I discovered and memorized, she said. Like I were a student in school finding out heritage.

She isn't going to take into consideration The person who did it. I may have been offended for a minute, but not for much longer than that, she reported. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her physician at New York Clinic-Cornell Medical Middle, as it had been recognised in 1996, explained to reporters that she experienced a ten percent probability of survival. Health professionals had to remove her forehead bone, which was later on replaced, to generate space for her swelling brain. When her mom built a public attract pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Following eight times, she arrived from a coma, initially in a vegetative point out, then in a childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept tiny and talked frequently, sometimes in gibberish. I had been obtaining mad at persons if they didnt reply to these words and phrases, she explained.

youtube

Like an Alzheimers individual, she had small shorter-term memory and would fail to remember people when they remaining the room.

More than various months, she needed to relearn how you can walk, dress, study and write. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited each day to Participate in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could well be frustrated by her lack of ability to Perform the way she after experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets along with her, playing the still left-hand aspect though she played the best.

That was my most effective therapy, she explained.

In August, she moved again home to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited previous haunts and named good friends, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I had been quite obsessive about remembering, she stated. Any memory loss was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had shed a chance to cry, as if a faucet inside her Mind had been turned off. 1 night, nine months soon after she was harm, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham movie A Time and energy to Destroy. Just right after her father had gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two men who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as the tears trickled down her cheeks. I considered my mother and father, my father, and the things they went by means of, she reported. Minor by little, my sensation returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and acquired a masters diploma in tunes training.

Not every little thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years once the assault, though they continue to be friends. She dated other Guys, but she constantly informed them concerning the assault immediately — she couldn't assist it, she claimed — plus they by no means termed for your next date.

Now we have to seek out you an individual, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar player, stated 4 years in the past, prior to introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and beginner drummer. For after, she did not say anything at all with regards to the attack until eventually she acquired to grasp Mr. McCann, after which when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced typically visited her at her bedside whilst she was from the medical center, married them in his Occasions Square Place of work. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Even though she was pregnant, within a burst of creativeness, she and her friends recorded Even though Had been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she experienced written before the assault, including the tune Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, made the CD. On it, her partner performs drums and she plays electric powered piano.

Is her everyday living as it absolutely was? Not accurately, nevertheless she is reluctant to attribute the distinctions to her injuries. Her very last two piano learners remaining her, without calling to clarify why, she claimed. She has resumed playing classical tunes, but uncomplicated items, mainly because her daughter will not give her the perfect time to apply. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she explained.

She would want to drive far more, feeling stranded inside the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be articles with keeping house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological surgical treatment at what is now known as New York-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Healthcare Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the attack, claimed last 7 days that her degree of recovery was uncommon. Shes essentially standard, he mentioned.

Other professionals, who will be not personally acquainted with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, are more cautious.

youtube

Regaining a chance to Participate in the piano could include an Practically mechanical method, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers have to do, explained Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation medication at Ny University School of Medicine. Once Mind-wounded, you will be always brain-wounded, for the rest of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay explained. There is no remedy, There's only intensive compensation.

The greater telling Element of a recovery, in his check out, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and baby as a major victory.

For her element, the piano Instructor is aware she has changed, but she has designed her peace with it. I had been form of a hyper —— I dont know if I was a Type A, but I was bold, she states. Why was I so bold? I used to be a piano Trainer. I dont know very well what the ambition was about. I really did come back to the person Im supposed to be.

0 notes

homestuckcanonconfirmer · 5 years ago

Text

15 Tips About best beginner piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tunes that she wrote in excess of a decade back, the woman who came to generally be known only given that the piano Instructor offered what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her have long run.

Im going away currently to an area so distant, in which no person appreciates my title, she wrote within the lyrics of the music referred to as Going.

When she wrote that track, she was young and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance tunes writer who beloved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Seems, long walks and anything about The big apple.

On a kind of beloved walks, through Central Park in the intense Sunshine of a June day in 1996, a homeless drifter conquer her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to everyday living. Once the assault, the phrases to her track arrived real. She moved absent, outside of New York City, from her aged life, and all but her closest buddies didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the earth, she was -- such as a lot more well-known jogger attacked in Central Park seven many years before -- an nameless symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, around the tenth anniversary from the assault, she is celebrating what is apparently her total recovery from brain trauma. She is forty two, married, with a small youngster. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and she or he hopes to explain to her Tale, her way.

Her medical doctor advised her it would consider 10 years to recover, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I feel my lifetime has actually been redefined by Central Park, she explained many times ago, her voice gentle and hopeful. In advance of park; immediately after park. Will there at any time be a time when I dont Imagine, Oh, This is actually the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch home inside a wooded subdivision inside a Ny suburb. She sat inside of a dining space strewn with toys, surrounded by photographs of her cherubic, dim-haired two-year-aged daughter. A Steinway grand filled half the area, and at one stage she sat down and played. Her playing was forceful, but she appeared humiliated to Enjoy various bars, and shrugged, as opposed to answering, when questioned the identify of the piece. She requested that her daughter and her city not be named.

She phone calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the day After i was damage.

Hers was the first in a string of assaults by exactly the same guy on four Females around 8 days. The last target, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was beaten to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to existence in jail.

Nevertheless the attack over the piano Instructor will be the a single people today seem to be to remember quite possibly the most. Component of the fascination should do with echoes from the 1989 attack within the Central Park jogger. But In addition it frightened men and women in a method the assault around the jogger did not mainly because its circumstances had been so mundane.

It didn't take place in the remote Section of the park late in the evening, but in the vicinity of a popular playground at three in the afternoon. It could have transpired to anybody. The tension was heightened by the mystery on the piano academics id.

For 3 days, as law enforcement and Medical doctors tried to see who she was, she lay in a coma in her clinic mattress, nameless. Her mothers and fathers have been on holiday vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Lastly, one among her students recognized a law enforcement sketch and was in the position to detect her inside the hospital by her fingers, mainly because her facial area was swollen beyond recognition. The police didn't launch her title.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Avenue, then putting her extensive hair in a ponytail and heading out for the stroll. She isn't going to remember the assault, Despite the fact that she has listened to the accounts on the police and prosecutors.

To me its just like a simple fact I learned and memorized, she reported. As if I were being a university student in school researching historical past.

youtube

She isn't going to take into consideration The person who did it. I might have been angry for a moment, although not for much longer than that, she reported. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I assume by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at Ny Hospital-Cornell Health-related Middle, as it was recognized in 1996, advised reporters that she had a ten percent possibility of survival. Physicians experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, for making area for her swelling brain. When her mother produced a general public appeal to pray for my daughter, 1000's did.

After 8 times, she arrived away from a coma, very first in the vegetative point out, then in a childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept minimal and talked regularly, at times in gibberish. I had been finding mad at folks when they didnt respond to these text, she said.

Like an Alzheimers affected individual, she experienced minor quick-time period memory and would neglect visitors when they still left the place.

More than many months, she needed to relearn ways to walk, dress, read through and publish. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented daily to Perform guitar for her. He encouraged her to Perform the piano, against the advice of her physical therapists, who believed she might be disappointed by her incapacity to Perform the way in which she the moment had. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets with her, taking part in the left-hand part even though she played the right.

That was my greatest therapy, she mentioned.

In August, she moved back again dwelling to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited aged haunts and named pals, striving to revive her shattered memory. I used to be quite obsessed with remembering, she reported. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists imagined her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she were.

What bothered her most was that she experienced misplaced the chance to cry, as if a faucet inside her brain had been turned off. One night, nine months after she was damage, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham movie A Time to Get rid of. Just after her father had gone to mattress, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Gentlemen who had raped his youthful daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mother and father, my father, and the things they went as a result of, she stated. Minimal by little, my sensation returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to school and acquired a masters degree in audio education.

Not every thing went effectively. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years following the assault, nevertheless they continue to be friends. She dated other Males, but she generally informed them in regards to the assault instantly -- she couldn't aid it, she mentioned -- and they hardly ever called for any second date.

We have to search out you a person, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, claimed 4 yrs in the past, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and newbie drummer. For as soon as, she didn't say anything concerning the attack until eventually she acquired to find out Mr. McCann, then when she did, he admired her energy.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced usually frequented her at her bedside when she was from the hospital, married them in his Times Sq. office. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Although she was pregnant, within a burst of creative imagination, she and her friends recorded When Had been Young, an album of childrens tunes that she experienced penned ahead of the assault, including the music Relocating. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, generated the CD. On it, her husband performs drums and he or she plays electric powered piano.

Is her existence as it had been? Not specifically, although she's hesitant to attribute the discrepancies to her injuries. Her final two piano pupils left her, without having contacting to clarify why, she claimed. She has resumed taking part in classical songs, but simple pieces, mainly because her daughter doesn't give her the perfect time to exercise. As for jazz, I dont even check out, she explained.

She would like to drive much more, emotion stranded during the suburbs, but she is easily rattled. She attempts to be written content with being dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical procedures at precisely what is now known as NewYork-Presbyterian Healthcare facility/Weill Cornell Healthcare Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, claimed previous week that her degree of Restoration was unusual. Shes basically usual, he explained.

Other professionals, that are not Individually informed about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns scenario, tend to be more careful.

Regaining the chance to Engage in the piano may entail an Virtually mechanical process, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers ought to do, reported Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of clinical rehabilitation drugs at Big apple University University of Drugs. As soon as brain-injured, you're generally Mind-hurt, for the rest of your daily life, Dr. Ben-Yishay mentioned. There's no heal, there is only intensive payment.

The more telling Element of a recovery, in his look at, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and child as an important victory.

For her aspect, the piano Trainer understands she has adjusted, but she has built her peace with it. I was kind of a hyper ---- I dont know if I had been a kind A, but I had been bold, she states. Why was I so formidable? I used to be a piano Instructor. I dont know what the ambition was about. I really did return to the individual Im designed to be.

Correction: June thirteen, 2006, Tuesday An short article on Thursday about Kyle Kevorkian McCann, a piano teacher who was beaten and sexually assaulted ten years back in Central Park, misstated the title of her album of childrens music. It can be Even though Have been Youthful, not When Have been Young.

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