#percy i hope you know what youve done to me

[hearts401]

IT IS SO FUCKING OVER FOR ME

"she misses when he didnt care o much. when he didnt care about being feared, or respected" IMG OING TO DIE

i was thinking abt that one tiny line in tttb that said michael used to let elizabeth paint his nails but then he stopped... so uhm michael if he let himself be a free creature (<- and by free i mean neurodivergent and probably queer)

[koba-baboba]

moony

a/n: hey look a new series because i got overhwhelmed by in the dark. this will be a self indulgent story so its ok if you dont like it. im trying a new writing style so let me know if its any good. this isnt really edited so read at your own risk. shout out to anyone who can figure out which part of this chapter i inserted after it was done.

chapter 1/? word count: 1628

warnings: none i think. a weeny bit of blood.

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towering trees and bright flowers are all i can see for miles, it was the most beautiful thing ever. mother held my hand, swinging it as we walked along the dimly lit dirt path. "happy birthday my love! how does it feel to be 6 hm?" mothers words are soft and full of love as she looks down at me fondly. "not much differnt, i think im taller maybe?" i screw my face up trying to think if i felt taller or not, i *felt* taller. mother laughed heartly as she looked around us. "youre almost past my hip now! youve definitely gotten taller." mother cooed still looking happily at me. i smiled, i *am* almost past her hip now! i swung her hand even more as we contiuned on our walk. "dad doesnt like to go on these walks does he?" i questioned, looking up at mother. "he doesnt like to get his fancy shoes dirty, Alexander has always been that way" she reasured me softly. the bush in front of us rustled, mother excitedly pulled me down to crouch so we didnt scare the critter moving towards us. i wiggled excitedly, hoping it would be a bunny. "stay still. maybe its a deer" mother whispers into my ear. the rustling get louder before a dirty tired looking man stumbles out. mother pulled me up harshly and hid me behind her. i tried to peek out at the man but she shoved me behind her again. i suddenly remebered what day it was, the full moon. i clutched to mothers shirt as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"can i help you sir? you look ill" mothers voice is shakey but firm. "now that you ask... i do need help"

im on my back on the floor, its uncomfortable and bumpy. my hands are wet and warm, it feels gross and sticky.i raise my hands to my face, theyre red? i turn my head to see if mother knows whats happening and... the man is on top of her, his teeth digging into her neck. shes screaming, crying, "m-mom?"

"mom?" i whisper but im not in that forest anymore, im on my bed in my room. i look around my room, at the posters and drawings on my wall that i made myself, at my trunk and bag near my door. it takes me a second to register the knocking at my door. "andi we need to go" a sandy haired man says softly as he pushes through my door. its just remus, im safe. i push myself up to sit on the edge of my bed and run my hand through my messy curls. "are you alright sweetheart?" remus- dad, asks me softly. "nightmare" i mumbled sleepily. he sighs and sits down next to me. he rubs circles against my back. "its always worse after the full moon, give yourself some patient love" dad said softly, he knew i wouldnt actually give myself time to bounce back. it was frustrating to admit i needed time to heal, i didnt like admitting i was differnt. dad sighed and kissed my forehead gently "get dressed, you can eat at the weasleys, molly will have plenty of food for you"

i pull my t-shirt and worn jeans on and try desperatley to make my hair less of a mess. i dragged my trunk downstairs towards dad who was waiting patiently at the door. "ready? molly will have some ointments for you when you get there."

"i double checked this time" i chuckle, more than once ive forgotten something important, my school supplies werent exactly cheap so that wasnt exaclty ideal. dad chuckled and looped his arm through mine and, with a loud pop, we landed at the burrow. my second home! i live here as often as i do at dads house. it was the most brilliant house ive ever been too.

the door flew open and two lanky twins came flying towards me. fred and george collided with me, hugging me tightly. i giggled squeezing them tightly. Remus put his hand on my shoulder “I’ll see you at the train station, be safe” and with a pop he was gone.

“He never comes inside” a sweet voice came from the doorway. A plump woman was looking fondly at the three teens. She opened her arms wide, beckoning me forward. i smiled and wrapped my arms around molly. “Hello dear” she cooed into my hair. Molly pulled back and looked me over, cupping my face and turned it side to side, examining the new cuts and bruises i donned. She hummed

“Ginny! Ron! Come here!” Molly shouted as she pulled me inside, the twins following.

“She’s going to coddle you” Fred whispered into my ear with a little chuckle. i rolled my eyes as i followed molly into the kitchen where Ron and Ginny had just rushed in.

“Andi!” Ginny bounded towards me wrapping her arms around me and hugged me like it had been years since the last time she had seen me. Ginny had always looked up to me like an older sister ever since she could speak. i hoisted Ginny up and into my arms spinning her around. god i loved the weasleys, every one of them, including percy.

“I’m a little offended you didn’t do that for us” George huffed feigning hurt.

“Yeah come on andi, I thought we were your favourite” Fred added, mimicking his twin.

“Now when did I say that boys” i teased as i plopped Ginny back on the floor. The twins rolled their eyes before throwing their arms over my shoulders. the twins did this to me so often, we were always joined at the hip in some way.

“I dunno I just have a sneaking suspicion that you like us” the boys said in unison. i snickered and gave Ron a happy “hello”

“Now now boys don’t be too rough on her” molly scolded shooing the twins off of me. i sighed, Molly always had a tendency to treat me like i was fragile. “Oh come on mum it’s not like we’re throwing her around” Fred whined. “We could if you wanted” George whispered. The trio had learned early on that the best way to annoy the younger groups was to mock flirt with each other. After awhile it became an inside joke that the three found hilarious. Much to everyone’s dismay.

“Come on andi let me clean you up” Molly’s words are sweet but insistent. i know better than to argue with molly over this stuff. Molly is a excellent healer and it would be stupid to deny her help. i looked over at the twins who are grinning ear to ear, they did warn me i suppose. i rolled my eyes once more before following molly to the living room. i sit down on the sofa the twins and i often crowd. It was far too small for three lanky teens. Molly began rustling in a little bag near a bookshelf. She was humming a song and shaking to a tune only she could hear. Ah ha! Molly exclaimed as she pulled out a little jar full of white paste.

“This will help it heal a little faster, it won’t keep it from scarring unfortunately” molly starts excitedly before mumbling off the last part. i knew this, magic was wonderful but it couldn’t prevent scarring in most situations. i had more scars than i cared to count. Molly cupped my face as she smeared the paste over my wounds, i winced slightly. no matter if it had numbing ingriedents or not, this part always hurt

“I know it hurts, just breathe” molly humed. “Do you have anymore?” Molly questions looking me over. “You know the answer to that question” i chuckled dryly as i stood pulling my shirt up with me. Revealing a bandage stretching across my stomach.

Molly sighed, she hated seeing her kids hurt, not that Andi was her kid but it certainly felt like it. Molly peeled the bandage off slowly trying desperately to keep it from hurting too much.

i shuddered biting back tears as i felt the bandage pull healed skin with it.

The twins were watching from the doorway as molly tended to Andi. They knew what Andi looked like after full moons but they never got used to the gashes and bruises she dawned afterwards. Fred turned away, he felt sick to his stomach, he loved Andi, he wished he could take this from her. She didn’t deserve it.

Molly patched andi's stomach up once more and pulled her shirt down over it.

“Put this on your face twice a day and I’ll help you with your back until you go to school then then ask one of your friends to help” molly instructed waving her finger at me to enunciate her words.

“Yes ma’am” i mock soluted, i knew how much that annoyed her. i turned towards the door way and gave George a lopsided grin and peeked past him at Fred who was leaning against a counter.

“Want to show me what your letters talked about?” i said my tone dripping with mischief. The twins faces lit up as they grabbed my hands and dragged me up the stairs, giggling like kids the whole way to their room.

“What are you three planning??” Molly shouted up the stairs. She knew those three were troublemakers at heart. They had been since they met when they were 7. Remus needed help with Andi after a rough full moon and the rest is history. The three of them managed to turn rons teddy bear into a spider once.

[rahabs]

Hey are you okay? Youve made a couple concerning posts abt death & not feeling good enough & like I hope you know that even if it doesnt feel like the ppl immediately around care there are so so many who care here on the internet, youre one of my favorite bloggers on this website & youre a wonderful, valuable, & uniquely amazing person & I really hope that you can hang on until things are okay again, because as someone with HELLA depression & suicidal thoughts, I can promise that they will be

I don’t.  Know.  Tbh.  I honestly haven’t been okay for a very, very long time.  I have really bad, occasionally crippling OCD that I am trying to parse through and cope with now that I know I have it (and that it’s bad--you should have seen the look on the therapist’s face during that one and only appointment, it took her like three seconds), which feeds into my anxiety, which feeds into depression.  The only reason I’m not suicidal is, somewhat hilariously, my anxiety, because even though I am utterly convinced that everyone around me would be happier if I was gone and/or wouldn’t miss me (esp since I now know both my sisters, but especially my youngest sister, resent the shit out of me for a variety of reasons, but jealousy and my absence for my studies and “being smart”/my academic accomplishments apparently being three of them, as relayed to me by outside sources and they themselves), my crippling fear of death stops me from actually doing anything about it.

Putting the rest under a cut b/c this got long.

I just.  Feel like I’m constantly reaching out for help and trying to extend olive branches and they are being violently rejected or ignored.  And that isn’t in my head, either.  I was told by my dad that I’m “trying too hard” to fix the relationship between my sisters and I (it’s two against one, and I am the one) while they aren’t trying at all and it sucks.  I feel incredibly alone and like whatever I do is never good enough or is bad, and I’m tired of constantly being rejected by people around me.  I lost my oldest friend of 20+ years because she was mad that I didn’t grovel at her feet for something I didn’t do.  I was chased out of something I loved because someone resented the fact that I was popular for the first and only time in my life and spread rumours and lies that resulted in someone trying to kill themselves, and everyone (including the person who tried to commit suicide) blame me, and then when I didn’t immediately accept their half-hearted apology (which wasn’t so much an apology for what they did so much as it was an “I’m sorry you’re upset about it”).  I used to write all the time an dinteract with people but I burned out so bad after my thesis that I had to take a hiatus and since them I’ve basically gotten no response to anything no matter how hard to try to engage people.

I feel like all I do is hang on, and in some ways things have gotten better (at the very least I am in charge of my body now, and am physically fit and am no longer in constant, agonizing physical pain due to obesity--I can control my body and that’s something), but I just.  The common denominator here is me.  What’s so bad about me that literally my existence just causes people to hate the shit out of me?  And that isn’t even in my head, either--I have a long track record of people I don’t even know, and who I’ve never even really interacted with, hating the shit out of me to the point where they’ve done everything they could to try and drag me down.  And even my family resents my successes.

I want to succeed to make them proud and to make myself proud, not to make them hate me.  I’m proud of their successes and talents and I support my sisters in everything they do.  My youngest sister is a phenomenal dancer, way better than I could ever be, and I go to everything I can and support her.  I support them both.  But they just resent my successes.  My youngest sister can dance better than me, but she hates me because I can sing bettter.  She wants to be a nurse, but she hates me because I’m in law school.  She’s tired of hearing about my successes, but my parents have always praised our successes equally because they understand that we all have different stengths--I’ve certainly heard for years about how smart they are.  My other sister is charismatic and beautiful and makes friends far quicker than I.  Everyone loves her and I am an awkward social potato (my dad describes me  to other people who haven’t met me as “so smart she’s weird”, so I’m basically a sitcom character at this point).

And this isn’t in my head.  It was told to me quite bluntly by multiple people over Christmas who observed how my sisters were actively shutting me out and how upset I was about it.  So the fact that they’re actively excluding me and ganging up on me isn’t even in my head.  I wish it was.

And this all sounds really stupid and whingy now that I’ve typed it out so I’m going to stop but I just.  I feel alone and stupid and like.  Obviously if so many people resent me then the common denominator is me.  I must fuckinng suck as a person, and that’s why I’m alone and will forever be alone, because the only people who can stand to be around me are my parents.  No wonder my favourite HP character and the only character I’ve ever related to on a personal level is Percy fucking Weasley.

But like I really appreciate you sending this anon b/c I just.  No one.  Really talks to me.  I’m constantly the odd one out in every situation.  I still haven’t made any friends in law school because everyone else paired up and I was left alone, despite my best efforts to join some groups.  I know I intimidate people because I have been told so many times that I do, and I know I’m a very intense person, but I don’t try to be and I don’t know how to fix that, and I also refuse to dumb myself down just to appease other people’s egos.  It just really, really sucks, and I’m an introvert, don’t get me wrong, but the loneliness is really, really starting to get to me and it’s harder and harder to combat it when I’m rebuffed at every turn ;;;;  Or at least that’s how it feels.  And then when I redouble my efforts, I get pushed back even more because now I’m “trying too hard.”  So it’s like.  Fuck me if I try, fuck me if I don’t try.

[miamaroo]

i hate to be this person and im certain youve gotten this ask a bazillion times over but i really enjoyed northern migration! i hope it updates again soon but if not know that it kept me in suspense pretty much the whole time and i severely severely enjoyed reading it. i felt like a little kid reading percy jackson again and kept having to put it down and pick it back up later cuz i was so excited lol

Actually, this is the first time I’ve gotten an ask like this so you’re golden lol

I’m really touched that you like taz nm so much! It really means a whole lot to me. I’m not sure when I’m going to update again. I’m still interested in finishing the story, especially since there is an end in sight, but my personal life and responsibilities have been overwhelming me. I’ll do my best to do right by the readers who do want me to continue, whether it be continuing the story again or officially ending it with a summary of what would have happened plotwise if I continued it. I’ve done that last one before and people are surprisingly receptive of it, believe it or not. 

I wish I could have a more definitive answer for you, but I honestly don’t even have a definitive answer for myself. I’m sorry, but I hope what little I can say, helps. 

[viralhottopics]

After the flood: ‘No tourists please. Help welcome’

On a journey through northern New South Wales and southern Queensland, Warren Murray meets locals contending with the aftermath of Cyclone Debbie

Light to moderate traffic is easing along the Pacific motorway connecting the Gold Coast and the Tweed, with no particular sign of storm damage or delays. But in Chinderah, just inside New South Wales and just off the highway, John Anderson is in full-tilt disaster recovery mode, contending with the aftermath of the flooding rains that ex-cyclone Debbie sent south.

At the Gateway Lifestyle Tweed Shores over-50s community, in between dealing with a stream of tradies coming in and out the office door Righto mate, do what youve gotta do, well pay for it Anderson describes how last week the water went through probably 140 cabin-style homes in this complex that he manages.

On Thursday the tide met the downstream flooding and we were inundated with a metre, metre and a half of water not a flood, but slowly rising water.

By Friday afternoon evacuation was well under way for those residents happy to go.

Gas bottles ripped off their moorings, leaking gas, electricity in residences filled with salt water, Anderson recalls. By 10 oclock Saturday night the park was basically isolated and only accessible by rubber ducky. He and his wife, Beth, opted to stay and keep an eye on things, sleeping on foam mattresses on the upper level of their manufactured home, with water swilling around on the floor below, until they could get out and about to assess the damage.

Days later, theres still so much to be done before things even faintly resemble normality. A jotting on the desk blotter says Copper gas line missing gone. Andersons mobile rings and flashes up the caller details: Shade Sail Andrew.

Out front of the park is a pile of ruined possessions that stretches for maybe 100 metres down the road. It represents in a lot of cases everything that people own, or did own. The villas are about 85% privately owned, 15% rented. Some people are insured, a lot are not because of the cost, being flood-prone.

Anderson lauds a magnificent response from the community, individuals who are pitching in to help out. The ladies from nearby Cudgen public school have been turning up with hot food, and in the top bit of the Gateway park where the water couldnt reach we had ladies there cooking sausage rolls and bringing them round. Just the most magnificent response.

Cleaning up after the flooding in Tumbulgum on the Tweed river, northern New South Wales. Photograph: Warren Murray for the Guardian

Double whammy

A short drive away in Tumbulgum its clear from the comprehensive inventory of household goods in jumbled heaps at the end of every driveway that some people lost more or less everything. A woman throws her hands up in resignation as a man adds more ruined belongings to one such growing pile. Everywhere is silt and sludge. At the entry to Riverside Drive a chalked sign says Please stop to help residents. Nearby a woman, looking newly arrived on the scene, unloads from her car a little yellow water blaster. It seems hopelessly dinky for the mammoth job at hand, but every bit helps and you know she will not go unthanked.

Compounding the heartbreak for Tumbulgum is the death on its doorstep of Stephanie King, 43, her son Jacob, 7, and daugher Ella Jane, 11, after their car plunged off Dulguigan Road and into the swollen Tweed on Monday afternoon. Daughter Chloe May, 8, managed to escape from the sinking car. I arrive on the other side of the river at 11.45am on Tuesday and line up with the rest of the media in a sludgy riverside park. We are being kept at bay as police divers continue their work after having to stop overnight. Even at this distance the water can be seen roiling with bubbles from their difficult work in the murk.

Pixie Bennett clutches a Jack Daniels in a can as she stands near me watching the recovery effort. Like everyone else she was stranded by the waters and stripped of everything that she couldnt get upstairs.

Sorry were drinking in the middle of the day but were still in shock its a double whammy for the little town of Tumbulgum, she says, nodding towards the emergency services at work on the opposite bank. She moved her car on to a high bridge before the water came but lost boxes of possessions when the water rose two steps from the top of our 13 steps. A plastic box floated past and she grabbed it, to find a Barbie dolls clothes packed inside. Our neighbour rowed over in a canoe and rowed us back next door so we could have dinner with them.

Further back from the river in Bawden Street, earthmoving contractor Ben May is opening the jaws of his Bobcat loader, plunging it into those roadside piles, clamping down on whatever he can pick up a fridge, a hot water system and then mechanically hoiking it into his tip-truck. Hes guided by concreter Geoff Percy, a 16-year Tumbulgum resident.

John Anderson, manager of the Gateway residential complex, with ruined belongings piled along the roadside waiting for collection. Photograph: Warren Murray for the Guardian

Good over-the-road mates, they have both been badly hit I lost my ute, lots of white goods, it was about seven feet deep through here on Friday but have turned away from their own troubles to help others. Nah, well be right, says Percy. The tip-truck went under but once the water receded Ben just changed all the oils and got it going. Well do this load and then head further up the street.

The words and phrases that come out at these times like resilience and community spirit can sound like cliches until you walk into the sort of situation that gives rise to them.

Two ancient pinball machines sit outside a neighbours place waiting for disposal. In their heyday, Duotron and Firepower cost you 20 cents a go. The owner bustles back and forth clearing up, not wanting to be photographed. Hes had enough, says Percy. Here for 18 years. Hes leaving. Had enough of the floods.

Three quarters of an hour after I arrived, the grim task down by the riverside is more or less done. The bodies have been removed and a crane waits to fish out the still-sunken family car. For a while this site has been the focus of the east coast flood story. Now the cameras will swing north to Rockhampton, where the Fitzroy river is approaching its flood peak.

Everyone in Tumbulgum has been at it for days cleaning up. But it looks like they have only just started. It smells like a muddy cattleyard from my country boyhood. Leaving town theres a hedgerow of household debris tangled in trees along the riverbank.

On the road towards Murwillumbah, through Condong, the same scene repeats itself over and over. Flood-ravaged sugarcane paddocks, pile after roadside pile of everything from barbecues to microwaves to baby strollers to chests of drawers and other buggered stuff. It is like an endless waterlogged forlorn jumble sale. Where will the council ever bury it all?

The makeshift sign in bedraggled Condong is a bit more firm than the one in Tumbulgum. No tourists please. Help welcome. Understandable in the circumstances.

Geoff Percy at work cleaning up in Tumbulgum, with his mate Ben May working the loader. Photograph: Warren Murray for the Guardian

Above the floodline

A floodline can be a thin topographical boundary between chaos and business as usual. This is brought home when I pull into Murwillumbah. Nearest the river there are familiar scenes of mopping up. Competition for parking spaces pushes me further up the main street than I would have otherwise gone, until I find a spot in front of the old-fashioned Austral Cafe (Established 1919).

Inside, not so far above that fateful floodline, I get to enjoy a midday breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast varnished with butter, all in perfectly dry surroundings. The walls are fittingly decorated with historical pictures of the districts past floods and fires, putting the current events in context.

Theres friendly chatter and laughter amid the tinkle of cutlery on crockery in the Austral. But snatches of the days inevitable conversations reach me as well. They found some of his gear on South Stradbroke Island It went floating past the boat ramp He slept through it, which is probably for the best Thats the hardest part. I mean were lucky, but

I think about the people in Tumbulgum making the most of their sausages on bread and whatever else neighbours have chucked together, volunteers have brought, or providence has left unspoiled. I hope they can dine somewhere like this when its all over.

The scenic route back from Murwillumbah to the Gold Coast is over the Queensland road that crosses the mountains via Tomewin to the Currumbin Valley. The road is damaged and open to local traffic only, but when a Falcon station wagon hoons impatiently past me and around the road closed sign, I decide to chance it. I have taken the route plenty of times on my motorbike, I know it well, Im in an all-wheel drive, it cant be too bad. And a trek back to the motorway through that landscape of muddied piles of ex-goods and former chattels doesnt appeal.

Its a mistake. The weather that caused all the devastation down below has left fallen trees, debris and landslips littering the road up here. Council crews are doing what they can to clear the way through, but like everywhere in these parts they are mere days into what looks like weeks or months of work.

At one blockage I wait behind a campervan for a bit, but then people start getting out of their cars, so I pull a U-turn. On the way down theres a Toyota 4WD lying on its roof at the bottom of an embankment. The Stop/Go man with one of the road gangs says things are better on the Numbinbah Valley Road, another of my favourite motorbike routes back to the Gold Coast. There are bad patches, he reckons, but you can get through.

And the road is indeed passable, but only just. It is still partly blocked or extremely damaged in sections. I find myself having to steer around tonnes of earth that a saturated hillside has disgorged into my path, or skirt patches where chunks of bitumen have been torn out by whooshing waters, or dodge areas where the road verges have collapsed away, leaving gashes that could swallow the car. On this familiar route it would be easy to lapse into an accustomed pace and come to grief. I remind myself to take it easy.

Theres a rural version of the recovery effort that is happening back in the Tweed Valley. Unsalvageable belongings being put out for collection, busted fences being put right. In one spot a little Suzuki ute is being used to pay out a coil of barbed wire along a boundary. Flooding has wrecked the road in areas where you wouldnt even have noticed a waterway before. Trees lie flattened in creek beds.

Not far short of Numinbah village theres been a huge cascade of boulders that looks like it should have swept the whole road away. Its down to one lane, marked by temporary guide posts. From the ridge above, the little waterfall that no doubt swelled to a roar and caused all this damage has shrunk back down to an innocuous trickle over the rocks.

Two pinball machines that finally met their match when the swollen Tweed river flooded into Tumbulgum. Photograph: Warren Murray for the Guardian

Things arent fantastic further west in the Scenic Rim country either. Beaudeserts state MP, Jon Krause, has been on ABC 612 radio reminding us that rural communities are likewise dealing with the effects of this natural disaster. Crops have been lost and ruined paddocks will take a lot of work to rehabilitate before they can be planted again.

Pretty soon Im back in suburban Nerang and not far from home. Theres the odd tree lying on the ground here and there, whipped down in the high winds of the previous days, roots having given up their grip on the soaked ground. Wed already had more than a week of downpours when the remnants of Debbie arrived and upped the tempo.

In the park across the road from my house a council crew is mucking out the kids sandpit. But thats about as devastated as it gets round here. The park is part of the local stormwater drainage system, and when the rain arrives the boogie boards come out.

Last year we put on a new roof on our late 70s, early 80s brick-veneer bungalow, and consequently had to follow the 21st-century regulations. That meant threading steel cyclone rods down through the walls, tying the roof to the concrete slab foundation.

Many of the houses around us in this brick-and-tile suburb are of a similar era, but still have their original roofs. Which means they dont have those rods. This time around the winds were less than cyclonic. If more of north Queenslands most extreme weather comes south in future years as feared, we may see those structures tested. To the north, the south and the west of us, there are thousands of people dealing with such consequences in the here and now.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2oBtEju

from After the flood: ‘No tourists please. Help welcome’