#somehow convince myself to actually start things instead of being paralyzed

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[snlhostharry]

crooked love

harry x reader

1.5k words

you and harry are broken up, he lives down the block and something has you up at three in the morning. 

a/n: yes this is based on I wish you would by Taylor Swift, yes everyday I think about what would’ve happened if harry had pulled the car over <3 

It’s way too early to be awake. You’re not quite sure what time it is, but it’s early enough that the sun shows no signs of rising to signal the morning. You have to go to work in a few hours, but you can’t sleep. Something is keeping you awake, something keeps drawing you towards your bedroom window. You lean against the headboard and let out a sigh, you’re mind drawing back to the one thing you don’t want to think about. It’s one of those nights where you lie awake and let yourself think too much about all the mistakes that you’ve made, the things you didn’t say, and the things that you did. 

You refuse to believe that Harry Styles is your one that got away. Mostly because it’s cliche, to have some celebrity be your one that you regret letting walk right out of the door (he actually got into his car and drove away but still), the whole thing sounds like an over-romanticized version of a story told in some books and fantasies by fangirls. It’s also to avoid the truth, the truth that if he came to your door right now and said that he wanted you back you would say yes, you would forget everything and you would say that you were sorry. There’s so many things to apologize for, there are so many things to say but the words die on the tip of your tongue, and the thought of texting or calling leaves your fingers paralyzed. 

He did say, “Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you're sorry too,” in his song. You think the song is beautiful, but you can’t listen to it anymore. Instead your content just staring out the window at what you’ve discovered is three am, thinking about how he bought that house just down the block from your apartment, thinking about what he must be doing right now. 

You look down at the street, the morning fog hovering just above the road, the streetlights barely illuminate the grass on either side. It all looks haunted, just like you are, because if you look down at the sidewalk you can see him still standing there. Like a ghost, the memory of that moment stays with you, even though it's been a year, and even though there have been other guys since then. There’s just something about the kind of emotion contained in that moment, the kind of love that makes you fall so hard and fast, that pushes every button, so much so that there’s only one possible way it can end: in flames. The kind of raw emotion carried in the way that you screamed at him, and he stood there taking it until he just couldn’t anymore. 

“You never loved me!” You scream. The force of your anger could shake the streetlights if you allowed it to, if you had enough power to show him. “You forgot about me like it was nothing, all you cared about was your career, and who you were going to be seen with.” 

“I love you,” He says, the eerie calmness in his voice counteracting the abject emotion in yours. At the time you’d taken that to mean that he didn’t care about you, that you loved him more than he could ever love you, that here you were again stuck wounded out in the cold. Everyone could see you bleeding, he could see you bleeding. “I love you, now. I don’t know what I can do to make you believe that.” 

“You should’ve been here!” You tell him, “That’s how you show me! You show me by being here, instead of out somewhere with some girl instead of just calling me.” He doesn’t say anything, “All I see is that I mean nothing to you.” 

“Are you just going to keep yelling at me?” He asks, his voice harsh. “Can we have a conversation? Can I come in?”

You cross your arms, “No.” 

“y/n-” 

“No. I am so angry with you right now, if I let you in I might just kill you and hide the body.” 

He throws his arms in the air in frustration, “Fine! If you’re not even going to try to listen to me, then I’m going to go home.”

“Then go home, or go out or do whatever you want.” 

He looks at you and shakes his head. You don’t move to go in, you stand there, watching him get into his car and at last watching him leave. The anger rising in your chest destroys all taste of reason, in hindsight you shouldn’t have let him leave like that. You shouldn’t have let him think that you hated him so much that you would never speak to him again. 

Time keeps marching on. You stand at the window now, but somehow you're also still standing on the sidewalk watching his car drive down the road and disappear into oblivion. This has been a ritual the last couple of days, you waking up with a strange kind of sleeplessness, staring out at the street stuck between two moments that are in complete juxtaposition to one another. There was a week where he would call you everyday, sometimes twice a day, and you always hung up. You wish now that you would’ve picked up the phone. 

How long is it going to take you to admit that you’re waiting for him at the window? He has that house down the street, and sometimes you swear you see his new car drive down the street with its windows down. It makes your heart skip a beat everytime because sometimes you convince yourself that it’s not his car, that he’s in his house with some model not even thinking about you in the slightest. Other times, you wish that he would just pull over and knock on your door. 

A car passes by the window, the headlights momentarily illuminating your room. You take that as a sign that you should go back to sleep, so you lay down in the bed again, trying to stop your spiralling thoughts. But the room is illuminated again with white headlights and you sit up. A car is pulled over next to the sidewalk, and suddenly the door opens. You grab your phone, ready to call the police to report an intrudenter but when the figure stands under the light of the lamppost you almost drop your phone to the floor. 

The next thing you know you’re standing outside the door, hands shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You know exactly what’s behind it, but you think you might be dreaming, or subject to sleep deprivation. Suddenly, your hand is on the doorknob and you finally open it. 

Harry Styles looks the same. The same as he did on Instagram last week, the same as he did in his contact photo (him smiling like an idiot on a beach in italy) and the same as he did when he got into the car and drove off, a fact which sends a chill down your spine. What is this? Whos’ to say that even if he is here to say sorry or to ask you to try again that there's even a chance that it would work out this time? 

“Hi,” He says semi awkwardly as he stands there. 

You lean against the doorframe, “It’s early.” 

“I know,” He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know if you would be awake.” 

“Funny story,” You say, “I’ve been awake for an hour.” 

He half smiles, “So have I.” A pause. “I have to tell you something.”

“You’ve been driving past my house for the past week, with your windows rolled down, yeah?” 

“How did you know?” 

“Recognised your car,” You say, “From when I drove past your new place.” 

“Oh.” 

“You wrote a song about me,” You break the silence, “And you bought a house a block away from me.”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

You cross your arms, “No shit.” You relent, “I’ve been thinking about you too. To the point where I stare at my phone, and I think about calling you.” 

“I called a lot.” 

“You did,” You say with a sigh. “I’m sorry for screaming at you, you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I thought you hated me,” He says.

As much as you’ve selfishy imagined the moment he showed up at your door, and you were able to tell him all of the things you should’ve said that night, standing here with it actually happening throws you for such a loop that you don’t know what to say. “The life you live can be overwhelming,” You tell him, “I was mad because I was confused, and I miss you.” You keep going, “I constantly miss you. I was mad for awhile, and then I started missing you. Then I got mad at myself because I realized I was going to have to spend the rest of my life missing you.”

“And I drove past your house everyday for a month,” He smiles. 

“And I was sitting at the window when you pulled up,” His words finally hit you after he says it, “Wait a month?”

He laughs, “Can I come in now?” 

“Yes.” 

[kellachfromthewoods]

Sometimes, Characters Explore Issues of Identity Through Journal Entries

Who am I, really?

I'd relied on my Allagan ancestry to earn my place in the Tower, and failing that, my martial prowess. Now, well, both are questionable. I've been paralyzed by my own abilities that stem from that ancestry, and in retrospect, I'm merely swinging weapons without real knowledge. Now that both these things that made me who I am in so far as my usefulness to the Tower is concerned are fraudulent, who am I?

Also, Moogles now think I'm dead but that's neither here nor there. I suppose I shouldn't have written that letter but it's true - objectively speaking, I AM the most expendable person because of what I outlined there. I know that if the others knew I actively thought about this, they'd chide me until I suppress these thoughts.

I, however, have had to actually think about this. I'm not a survivor just because I happen to be lucky... a lot. First, as an organization of Mages who're now dabbling in Magitek, anyone who's involved in research, especially in researching ways to solve our problems, is a lot less expandable than those that aren't. And well, that leaves only a few members.

Of those, only I have a way to cheat death and still have it be somewhat within the ethical boundaries of our organization. Sure, it involves using some of the most horrifying magitek ever designed by the Garlean Empire in addition to a very specific quirk of my ancestry... in theory, but that's one more way than the others have.

Now, I'm still alive and I have to deal with an identity crisis. What fun. Still, Ayame gave me some food for thought in that somehow I convinced even her that I'm competent martially - What if instead of relying on my gift I just... didn't? I'll need to tune it out anyroad if we are to pursue whatever we've accidentally created, and let's be honest, it's only brought us ruin most times I've used it.

That doesn't change the original question - What do I do now?

Well, if I need to figure myself out, I've masks a plenty and a headstrong attitude. Maybe I can stop simply mimicking and instead just... become.

Doesn't solve the magic issue, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. Blue Magic is so close to mimicry that... well, I can start there. And for the rest, I can always hide my identity.

And perhaps not being Kellach Woods is kind of what I and my family need at this point.

[missmentelle]

This might sound very silly but I just don't know how to be more proactive. I've been very passive all this years until this point where I feel like I can't anymore. I wish I could be more hardworking for the things I want but I get all overwhelmed and don't even know how other people have the energy or the motivation. People think Im just lazy. I don't have almost any skills let alone any that I can monetize, I feel like Im going to be a looser forever.

I think this is a problem that a lot of people - especially younger people - are struggling with right now. We want to achieve great things, and we feel like we should be achieving great things, but many of us are so paralyzed by doubt/anxiety/apathy/uncertainty that we have a hard time mustering up the motivation to run basic errands, let alone chase our dreams. I’ve certainly spent more than my fair share of time beating myself up for the countless days that I’ve fucked around on Reddit all day instead of actually achieving anything, even when I was fully aware that I was sabotaging my own dreams and goals by doing so. I just couldn’t always muster up the ability to care about the things I needed to be doing, even if there were dire consequences for not doing them. The good news is, there are definitely ways to overcome this issue, and reach a point where you are happier with your progress and your life. To get started, I recommend:

Decide what it is you actually want. Telling yourself to “be more proactive”, “work harder” or “have a better life” is not helpful if you don’t actually have specific goals that you’re working towards. It is very, very easy to find ways to be “busy” for 8 hours per day - but being busy doesn’t necessarily mean progress. Take some time, and think about some rough goals that you’d like to actually work towards. Don’t worry about how much work or effort it would be to achieve those goals, just start thinking about what you want in life, and what’s the most important to you. Think about the kind of life that you would like to have someday, and start figuring out the steps you need to take in order to get yourself from your current life to the life that you envision. It’s okay if those things are very far apart - the point is not for you to get overwhelmed, but for you to have something to be proactive about. 

Start slowly. You cannot go from “spending 8 hours per day mindlessly browsing the internet amidst a pile of old take-out containers” to “running 5 miles every morning before making art for 8 hours in a spotless apartment with a fridge full of vegetables” overnight. Trying to change your routine too drastically and too quickly will lead to you burning out in a couple of days and going right back to your old ways, with an added dose of self-hatred because you tried and failed. Trying to be more productive and more functional is a process, and a long one at that. It’s not at all unusual or abnormal to take several years of work before you get your life to where you want it to be. Start slow. Start with incredibly tiny changes, and slowly build up those changes over time. If you currently live on a diet of fast food and candy, and you want to be a shredded, clean-eating fitness guru, you can’t rush into that all at once. Start by swapping out full-sugar pop for diet pop for the first month, and trying to drink more water. That’s it. Don’t make any other changes. Then the second month, switch out diet pop for flavored water. And so on. Change only sticks when it’s gradual. 

Focus on one thing at a time. Again, trying to do too much, too soon is a recipe for fast burnout and self-hatred. Start by trying to change one area of your life, and one area of your life alone. Once you feel like you have a pretty solid handle on that part of your life and you have established some new habits, then you can add on a second area of focus. Spend some time, and really think about which area of your life is the most important for you to change, and which area of focus will improve your life the most. If it helps, envision your problems as rocks that you are carrying around in a backpack with you at all times. What’s the heaviest rock in your backpack? If you are overweight, unhappily single, making no progress building your YouTube channel and failing out of college, then your college grades are probably the thing causing you the most stress in your life, and they’re your most urgent concern - focus on that, and give yourself permission to let the rest of it sit on the back burner until you have boosted your GPA. Only then will you be ready to start changing something else. 

Go easy on yourself. I think one of the pitfalls that many young people face these days is that they absolutely crush themselves with unrealistic expectations of what they “should” be doing with their lives; it’s hard to get up the motivation to do anything when you’ve convinced yourself that the bare minimum for success is an impossible ideal. I have friends with master’s degrees who still consider themselves failures that haven’t done anything in life. Remember that you are not a machine. Even at your most successful and high-functional, you will not be perfect and productive 100% of the time. You will still have lazy days where you don’t get much done. You will still occasionally order takeout instead of making a home-cooked meal. You will still occasionally procrastinate. Don’t set yourself up for failure by comparing yourself to an unattainable ideal - just aim to be a slightly better version of what you are right now. 

Get used to tracking, even without making changes. It’s hard to set goals for improvement if you don’t have a solid idea of what you’re actually doing right now. Telling yourself things like “stop being so lazy and do more things” is setting yourself up for a spiral of self-loathing if you don’t actually track what you’re doing, because you won’t be able to see the small, gradual progress that you’re making. Being able to actually see yourself taking baby steps toward your goal is important for keeping you motivated, and keeping you from beating yourself up. Don’t track absolutely everything in your life - that becomes obsessive after a while - but keep an eye on some of the major things that you might want to change in the future. Install apps on your phone and laptop that track how much time you spend doing what. Set up the step tracker on your phone. If you want to eat better in the future, start tracking roughly what you eat now. I’m a pretty avid bullet journaler, I track a lot of my daily habits. Keeping track of the things you do, even if you’re not proud of them, and even before you start to work on them, gives you a baseline to work with, so you can establish how bad the problem is and see when you’re heading in the right direction. 

Forget the obsession with monetizing. A lot of us have gotten this idea in our heads that we need to find ways to monetize everything that we’re even remotely good at, or doing that thing is somehow a waste of our time. I don’t want to generalize about millennials and gen z too much, but I do feel like our generation was raised on the belief that “doing what you love” is the most important thing in life; I personally have many friends that are obsessed with monetizing, to the point that they no longer do anything unless they can find some way to funnel it into advancing their blogger/influencer/creator career. I think this is a mistake. When you monetize something that you love doing, you turn it from a hobby into a job, with all the stress that comes with that, and I think it’s important for everyone to have at least one thing in their life that they do just for the joy of it. It’s okay to let work be work, and play just be play. And I say this as a person who has monetized one of my hobbies; I love true crime and forensic psychology, and I co-host a true crime podcast that has recently had a huge surge of popularity and is on the cusp of being monetized. I could write an entire post about the mental health side of being a creator with a public online presence, but in a nutshell, turning my podcast from a hobby into a business has required me to take it a lot more seriously, and it now falls more into the category of “work” than it does “fun”. My enjoyment of life requires that some of my other hobbies - like playing music - just stay un-monetized hobbies. Let yourself create and do things that don’t have economic value. 

Don’t compare yourself to what you see on social media. I have had both personal friends and followers on this blog tell me that they feel bad about themselves because their life doesn’t measure up to what they see on Instagram, or because they feel that their own lives would not be worthy of posting online. This is a toxic mindset to get into. The things you see on social media are not reality, no matter how much they appear to be - people put incredible amounts of effort into carefully cultivating an online persona that makes them look more productive and accomplished than they actually are. I have a brother who who is a somewhat successful Instagram “influencer”, alongside his more successful girlfriend, and I could write an entire post about the lengths they go to to fake having perfect lives on Instagram, and the toll that their Insta careers are having on their mental health. If you are looking to be a more productive version of yourself, it’s best to steer clear of “motivation” from people who are paid to pretend to be successful online. 

Set measurable, achievable goals. Goals like “be healthier” and “do more stuff” won’t get you anywhere - they are so vague that it’s not possible to tell when you’ve actually achieved them, or how much progress you’ve made. If you want to be more productive and feel like you’re getting more done, you need to set goals that can actually be worked towards and checked off when they are done. Instead of “go to the gym more”, aim for “go to the gym 5 days per week” as your end goal, and start with a solid couple of months with “go to the gym at least once per week”, and slowly increase from there. If you’re aiming for something big like “have an awesome job”, break that down into medium-sized goals like “finish an undergrad degree”, and then break that goal down even further into “hand in all my assignments on time this semester”, and break that down further into “write the first 10 pages of my paper by the end of the week”. Set tiny goals for yourself that you can easily achieve, and that will gradually accumulate into big accomplishments. 

Remember that slow progress is better than no progress. If you write one sentence per day, it is going to take you a really long time to write a novel. It will take you a whole lot less time, however, than if you get overwhelmed at the thought of writing a novel and never write at all. Sometimes you need to break goals down into steps so small that they also seem not worth doing. It can feel a little silly to congratulate yourself for things like “brushed my teeth today” and “texted someone back today”, but those are little habits that add up into bigger things, and giving yourself that positive reinforcement is important. “Greatness” and “success” are not things you achieve all at once, they are made up of tiny habits that you’ve been working on for months or years at a time. 

Take care of your mental health. Not feeling the motivation to do anything, even things that you enjoy, can be a symptom of depression. Everyone beats themselves up from time to time for not being more productive, but if your brain is constantly on a feedback loop of “I’m human garbage and I’m wasting my life”, that’s a pretty serious problem, and a solid sign that it’s time to seek out some professional help. Trying to make major life improvements without addressing underlying mental health concerns is kind of like trying to drive a car without wheels - you’re just not going to get anywhere until you’ve dealt with the obvious problem. 

Remember that setbacks are okay. Even the most highly proactive and high-functioning people have days where they say “fuck it” and order takeout to eat in front of the TV. Everyone occasionally misses deadlines or leaves things to the last minute when they shouldn’t. Everyone shows up late occasionally. These things happen - we are humans, and none of us are perfect. The key to long-term proactivity and productivity, though, is not to let those small setbacks define you, and not to throw away all the progress you’ve made over a bad day or a bad week. Eating healthy six days per week will put you in a much better position than deciding “fuck it, I blew it” after one bad meal and returning to eating unhealthy meals 7 days per week. As the saying goes, don’t let perfect be the enemy of good - in other words, perfection is not attainable, and getting hung up on being perfect will prevent you from achieving many things that are good. The idea is not to be perfect; it’s just to keep striving to be a slightly better version of yourself. 

Best of luck to you!

[akinkbyanyothername]

BTD Fanfic: Strade x Reader

Um, so I don’t really expect anyone to read this but, I wrote a shitty fanfic (~5000 words) about Strade and MC. It retells the BTD story focusing on an MC who is a huge brat but also scared of pain/death/blood. I do use a lot of dialogue from the game, especially when writing bloody scenes because I’m actually not that into blood, guts, and gore. I’ll probably put it on AO3 when I have the time to properly reread and add to it. But until then, *blows kiss into the void* this is for you~

The most important hole in this story is your mouth! So hopefully anyone can enjoy!

Kinks: Non-con, Blowjobs, Torture, Boot-Licking, Kidnapping, Drill, Light Bondage

You looked up at the wooden sign saying “The Braying Mule”. You could hardly believe you managed to drag yourself out to a bar, especially alone! You walked into the bar with a small feeling of pride that was instantaneously replaced with anxiety. You knew it wasn’t possible, but you were convinced this was the loudest place on earth; the laughter of the patrons mixed with the ringing in your ears was deafening. You stood near the entrance paralyzed, until you turned around, listening to your body’s overwhelming urge to run away. You were just about to exit when you felt a large, rough hand on your shoulder. Your whole body jumped as you let out a squeak of fear.

“Didn’t mean to scare you buddy!”

You turned around to look at the owner of the hand and cheerful voice. You couldn’t help but be drawn to his oddly endearing toothy smile. 

“Oh no... it’s alright!” Your words were accompanied by the thoughts, “There I go... trying to be as polite as possible even though this guy fully touched me without asking.” You gave a sweet smile, continuing to follow your natural instinct to be likable and avoid conflict “I just startle easily, sorry!” You could’ve sworn his cheeks flushed after you said that, but the crappy bar lighting made it hard to tell for sure.

“Come sit down with me!” With his hand still on your shoulder, the man led you to a table with a couple empty beer mugs. “Sit right there. I’ll get you a beer, it’ll help you relax!” You barely had time to process before he sat you down on the chair and went off to the bar. You were definitely uncomfortable with a stranger being so pushy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up and leave. No, no, that would be too rude. Besides he was buying you a drink, you didn’t want to risk hurting his feelings. You could feel yourself getting frustrated with your inability to be assertive when you were overwhelmed, but before you knew it the man was back.

“Here, drink up!” He placed the beer in front of you as he sat across the table.

“Thanks so much!” You replied, matching his enthusiasm. 

“So, what’s your name?”

“My name’s Alex!” You lied as you gave him another smile. You had rehearsed giving out a fake name to strangers and done it a handful of times, so it was almost automatic. “What’s yours?”

“So polite! Name’s Strade.”

You noticed him eyeing the beer he bought you and considering he just called you polite you felt the need to at least sip it. You tried to hide the disgust on your face as you took a gulp, god you hated beer. 

“I’ve never heard the name Strade before, it’s cool!” 

“It’s German!”

“Oh! A friend of mine is taking German classes right now! She told me the word for butterfly is schmetterling.” You felt a little dumb saying that so you took another swig of beer hoping to avoid sounding any more foolish.

“I’m impressed, few people know any German! I could teach you more.”

His last statement sounded suggestive somehow, but you were sure that couldn’t be right because you sounded like an idiot and no one would flirt with you. Suddenly you were very thankful for the beer. You drank more of it quickly trying to distract yourself from being flustered. 

“Do you like it?” He asked raising a brow. He must’ve noticed your shift from barely touching it to chugging it.

“Yeah, it’s really good, thanks!” You lied again. Honestly the beer tasted like garbage, but you couldn’t say that, it would be too mean. Either way, you could feel yourself getting tipsy, so you told yourself you were thanking him for the distraction.

Suddenly an alarm on your phone went blaring, with the notification “STUDY!” attached to it. You let out another squeal as you scrambled to turn it off.

“SHIT THAT’S RIGHT! I HAVE A MIDTERM COMING UP NEXT WEEK!” You thought to yourself as you stood up. 

“Sorry, Strade, I have to go study, I have a test next week! It was nice meeting you, and thanks for the beer again!” You were fully aware that you sounded like a total nerd, but school was really important and you didn’t want to risk your grades. Truth be told, you weren’t sure how you would’ve left Strade if you didn’t have an excuse.

“Ah, good luck on your test, have a good night, bud!”

You left the bar more relaxed than when you came in. It was later than you expected and you checked your phone to figure out which bus to take back to your place. 

“Trying to get home?” You let out a full on scream as a familiar, but unexpected voice came up behind you. 

You turned around to look at who it was, but as you did so your phone was knocked out of your hand.

“What the hell?!” Your instinct to be polite was overruled by a mixture of fear and anger.

Faster than you could process, Strade grabbed your shoulders and bashed you into the brick wall of the bar. His hand covered your mouth as you watched him stomp your phone. “Don’t worry, you can come home with me~” he purred into your ear. “...Are you going to come quietly? Or are you gonna make me work?”

This was so fucked up. You had come out to a bar ALREADY ANXIOUS OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND, but you pushed through because you told yourself “What’s the worst that could happen?” The realistic answer, according to your therapist, SHOULD have been, “I feel uncomfortable and leave”. But APPARENTLY that wasn’t the case. APPARENTLY the actual fucking answer is “I GET FUCKING KIDNAPPED!” As these thoughts raced through your mind you bit down on Strade’s hand, grinding your teeth with as much force as possible.

“Wow... Lebhaft! <3″ He mused dreamily.

You glared at Strade with as much hate as you could muster as he back handed you across the face. Hitting the ground, you felt a sort of heat rise up from your pelvis into your chest and manifest on your cheeks. “Who knew being hit could feel so good?” was what your body was saying but your mind was focused on “If this guy wants to kidnap me, I’m not gonna make it easy.” You looked up at him and let out a pained cough. You opened your mouth to start screaming, but you were winded by a heavy boot digging into your sternum. Instead of insults, a pained wheeze escaped your lips. With so much force, you swear it could have dislocated your shoulders, Strade grabbed your arms and zip tied your wrists together. You writhed viciously under his boot as you tried to escape, but it was to no avail. The only thing your struggling seemed to do was make him smile wider.

Effortlessly, Strade pulled you onto you’re your feet and shoved you into an expensive looking car. Feeling the air starting to return to your lungs you prepared once again to scream, but were muffled by a piece of duct tape being slapped onto your lips.

“Don’t make so much noise now.” He cooed, holding your chin up, forcing you to look into his eager eyes. “Save it for when we get back to my house” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek before he punched you in the jaw. Everything went black after that.

You woke up disoriented on the floor of a cold, dark room. “What the-? Where am I?” Were your immediate thoughts as you slowly started to regain consciousness. “WAIT IS THIS-!?” You violently jerked forward trying to stand up, but immediate regretted this as the tight ropes binding your wrists to a pole bit into your skin. Your words, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” came out as more an incoherent screech as you became acutely aware of the duct tape on your mouth. Fuck, why did your jaw hurt so much? Suddenly, you heard loud thumping coming from a set of stairs behind you.

“What’s this I hear?” The ominous words echoed in the darkness before you were blinded by the lights being switched on. “You’re already awake!”

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you were staring at the worst case scenario. Fueled by sheer hate you attempted to let out a slew of words that would have made the devil proud.

“Sorry what’s that buddy?” Strade asked before excitedly ripping the duct tape off your mouth. “You’re gonna have to speak up!”

“FUCKING PSYCHO!” You pushed passed the pain in your jaw to let out words that had been dying to escape. “WHERE AM I?”

“Don’t remember?” He asked almost innocently. “We were having a chat. And I thought to myself, I would love to get to know this person better. So I brought you home!”

He put a hand on top of your head, ruffled your hair then gave it a firm pull. A bolt of heat shot up into your chest again. Doing your best to ignore your body’s betrayal, you jolted forward. You tried to bite at his hand, knowing full well this would cause the ropes around your wrists to dig deeper, but you couldn’t just LET him treat you this way.  “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU!”

He let out a pleased laugh. “You were so polite at the bar, but now you are so full of energy!” He licked his lips. “So many surprises… I can tell we’re going to have a lot of fun together.” You could feel your fear starting to grow as he said the word “fun”.

“Before we get started, you want something to eat? Drink?”

“What the hell?” You were so thrown by his offer, but it did make you hone in on your churning stomach. You hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and drinking a beer on an empty stomach might have been one of the many reasons you felt so nauseous today. However, as much as you might have wanted food, your pride wouldn’t let you admit it. “NO! I DON’T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU!”

For whatever reason, your response made him more cheerful. “You’re so eager to start, so am I!”

Strade pulled out a large hunting knife and you couldn’t help but let out a terrified scream at the mere sight of it.

“Ah, Schatzi! You’re already screaming for me~<3”

You couldn’t think of a time when being easy to startle was THIS much of a curse. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Every word out of your mouth since you woke up was shrieked, but you would be damned if you didn’t put up a fight. As he started to approach, you wildly started kicking your legs, in an attempt to keep him way.

He paused for a moment to admire your futile actions, his face growing redder and redder. “Niedlich~” He leaned down and pressed the cold blade under your sleeve.

“W-What are you saying to me?” It was getting harder and harder to yell at him as the knife against your skin allowed your fear to override your anger. For whatever godforsaken reason, you suddenly remembered him offering to teach you German. You made the dumbest comment in human history as you tried to alleviate your terror, “This isn’t helping me learn German!”

Strade burst out into laughter, “BAHaha! Good one buddy!” You tried to forget about the knife as he jovially put his free hand on your shoulder. You felt proud of yourself for a moment, maybe you calmed him down? He rested there for a second, looking down into your eyes. You gazed back, searching for some semblance of humanity, but he simply smiled and shook his head, “Your clothing’s still in the way.” He began to forcefully cut off your clothes. You wanted to resist more, or at least make a snide remark, but feeling the blade occasionally graze your skin was enough to trigger your freeze response. It was only a matter of moments before you were there in your underwear, shivering.

Strade leaned back and took a good look at you. If you weren’t already naked, it would’ve been like him undressing you with his eyes, which honestly would have been preferable to him using a fucking knife. You wished his long stare only made you uncomfortable, but you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks starting to flush.

“ahhhhh~ You’re so…” He paused, searching for a word you REALLY didn’t want to know. “Unbroken.”

Yeah, you DEFINITELY didn’t want to know that. “W-What the hell? If any part of me WAS broken it would’ve been from you!” Your sass didn’t have its usual bite to it, but it was something.

Strade let out another laugh as he bent down to his knees, inches away from you. Terrified didn’t begin to describe how his presence made you feel. “Oh don’t worry...” He said rubbing his calloused fingers over your soft thigh. “I’m not going to leave you this way.” Goosebumps appeared on your skin as he continued to caress you. “We’re going to have a very intimate experience.” He licked his lips, “I can’t wait to hear more.”

“More what?!” flooded your head before he lowered the knife to your thigh. The cold metal against your skin was paralyzing, “THERE’S NO WA-!“ Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by the searing hot pain of the knife slowly dragging up your leg.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Your scream echoed throughout the basement as you broke out into tears. Your whole body writhed, trying to cope with the blinding agony. God, for someone who talked big, you sure did you have a low pain tolerance.

“You’re so sensitive” He panted. You could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, but from what you could tell, he was getting excited. He held down your squirming leg, eyeing it for a second before raking the knife through you skin again. Another piercing howl left your mouth as you shook violently. You shut your eyes tight as tears continued to stream down your face.

“Ah… I’m getting too excited…” You heard him breath heavily. “Oh no… look how much you’re bleeding…”

Those mere words made you feel lightheaded, you had a horrible phobia of blood and you most certainly didn’t want to look. Strade must’ve picked up on this because before you knew it his fingers were prying your eyes open, “I said look!”

The room started to spin as you tried not to focus on the bright red blood spilling from your wounds. You had absolutely no words, just feelings of sheer horror.

“Mmm. You’re not gonna last like that.” If he wasn’t inches away from your face, you probably wouldn’t have understood him.  “Would you-“, your hearing cut out, you really were about to faint. A hard slap against your face made your eyes shoot open and a moan escape you lips.

“What the hell was that?” you thought to yourself. Were you seriously turned on by that?

You could feel Strade’s hot breath on your stinging cheek. “Did you… like that?”

You instinctively looked away. “Of course not…” Your voice was so weak; you weren’t sure how convincing you sounded to him or yourself.

“You really shouldn’t lie.” he said, grabbing your hair and forcing you to meet his gaze. You felt everything, from your toes to your ears, heat up and you couldn’t believe it. Your body really was a filthy fucking traitor. “I’m not lying!” You insisted, this time with a little more pep. He just stared at you with his blushing cheeks, before standing up.

Your whole body tensed, terrified he was going back for the knife, but instead he reached for his zipper. The fact this was a relief to you was disturbing. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?” You screamed internally before externalizing a shrill, “NO!”

You tried to look away, but he grabbed your face. Before you could protest further, you noticed he was holding the knife in his other hand. A string of curse words flew through your mind. “Open up ~<3” Strade chimed as he pushed the knife into your mouth, facing the blade upwards. You reflectively opened your sore mouth wide with a whimper trying to avoid being cut. He shifted the knife to the side and stuffed the head of his cock in your mouth.

“I know you like to bite.” He flashed the marked-up hand you had ground down on when he was kidnapping you. You felt a twinge of victory before he grabbed the back of your head with it. He gave a hard thrust deep into your throat causing you to gag. He let out a satisfied groan. “Will you bite again?”

You wanted nothing more than to hurt him back, show him you weren’t helpless, but… your eyes shifted to the knife and you shuddered. You started feeling faint as you imagined the inside of your mouth getting sliced up by him. Noticing you were distracted, he shoved deeper inside of you causing you to be present with the ACTUAL fucked up scenario you were in. You made a sort of muffled scream as you felt your anger growing. How could you possibly win in this situation? It was so unfair! You shot Strade the dirtiest look you could manage and in return he gave you a smug grin as he withdrew the knife. He buried both his hands into your hair and slammed more vigorously. Tears started welling up in your eyes as you choked on his cock. God you felt pathetic. He looked down at you fondly, “Suck it, Schatzi~” An involuntary whine of fear and pleasure was the only noise you manage to make, why did you find him speaking German so… so… sexy!?

His rhythm was becoming steadier and you knew what that meant. You desperately struggled to pull away from him, but he kept ramming down your throat with more and more panting and grunting. Your pained, exhausted jaw and desire to spite him made you consider biting down again, but the image of a knife down your throat stopped you. “FUCK!” You screamed to yourself as he groaned, holding your head firmly against himself. The feeling of his warm cum sliding down the back of your throat made you sick. Tears steadily rolled down your cheeks as you felt like you were suffocating. He admired the view of you stuffed full of him, desperate for air before pulling out with a dreamy sigh. Immediately you coughed and sputtered up a mixture of saliva and semen on the cement floor. You were suddenly very aware that was the only thing you had eaten today.

“Ahhhh… you’re a lot of fun.” He crouched down to your eye-level. You flinched as he reached out to softly pet the side of your face. The gentle sensation flooded your body with warmth. Fuck, how much longer did your body intend to completely ignore sane reactions? You weren’t going to give in though. Through ragged breaths you managed, “D-Don’t… touch me…” Strade chuckled as he stood up and tousled your hair. “Why don’t you have a rest, hm?” With that he straightened up and thumped back up the stairs, leaving you in the dark.

As soon as he left, the pain from your leg demanded attention. You looked down, noticing that the blood hadn’t completely dried. It was so disgusting. “I’m going to kil-” You couldn’t fight the wooziness that washed over you. Your body slumped against the pole and your eyes closed, leaving your threat unfinished.

You were woken up abruptly by someone kicking your leg. The pain jolted you forward pulling you against your binds, “Wha… Ahh!” You slowly came back to your senses and realized where you were. So everything last night really wasn’t a horrible dream.

“Still sleeping?” Strade asked with a smile, looking you up and down. “Aren’t you looking chipper? You’re all fresh and ready for a new day!” You weren’t sure in which world your state would be considered fresh. “So, how about something to eat?” He bent down and waved some sort of energy bar in front of you.

You felt a surge of nausea overcome you, remembering the vile taste in your mouth from yesterday. You took a few deep breaths trying to calm yourself down. Honestly, food was a probably good idea, you were starving. But…You shifted your eyes from the bar to Strade; all the deep breathing in the world wouldn’t have quelled you hatred.

“No?” He asked, picking up on you animosity. “Suit yourself!” He unwrapped the bar and took a large bite. “Mmf- you know-“ He waved the bar. “I feel like we’re really getting to know each other.” He took another bite. “Hm. I know it hasn’t been long. But this sort of mmf…experience...it speeds things up.” He kept chewing and leaned closer to you. “It’s the adrenaline. You’re excited. I’m excited.” He leaned even closer. “We’re sharing something very… personal.” The way he delivered that last line made you incredibly nervous. “BAHaha! You look a little scared ~<3” You shot him a vicious glare, trying to mask your fear.

“Ahhhh! Haaa… I can tell how you’re feeling. You’re all tied up, on the floor. Some guy’s basement. And who knows what I’ll do to you? Helpless. Right?”

You wanted to shout “WRONG” but your voice escaped you, something about him seemed more sinister than yesterday.

“I’ll give you some control. What happens next is completely up to you!” He turned around to gather a few items form a nearby table. Your heart was racing wildly. “Here’s your choice. What’ll it be?” He held up a hammer in his left hand and a drill in his right. “Hammer or drill?”

Your breathing became sporadic and your eyes widened in fear. There was no way this was happening. This couldn’t be real could it? You blinked really hard a couple times to make sure this wasn’t just some fucked up nightmare. But there Strade was, holding up a fucking hammer and drill, waiting for you to decide… but there was no way that was going to happen. You weren’t going to let him win; you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction!

You could see his smile turn into a frown at your refusal, and fuck you knew that was bad new, but you did it. You managed to get that unnerving smile off his face! However, your victory was short lived. His grin returned as he stepped closer to you, “You don’t want to choose?” He rested his boot on your mangled thigh for barely a moment before grounding it down. You let out an ear piercing shriek as your cuts began to ooze blood again. Enjoying your voice, he continued to roll your leg under his foot.

“Can’t take it hm? The responsibility of choice…” He leaned down. You maintained furious eye-contact showing that you weren’t going to back down. “I suppose some people… Weren’t meant to have any control.”

Those word were the last straw. The absolute vitriol that had been building up inside of you since you woke up burst out. You spat directly onto his face and yelled, “GO TO HELL YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!”

“Haha… haaaaa…” That fucking blush creeped back onto his cheeks as he stood up. He leered down at you, licking his lips, “You act so sour but…” he paused, turning around to the table with his tools. You could hear clinking and clanging as he searched for… something. He twisted back around, this time with the drill plugged in and a pair of pliers. “You weren’t like this at the bar…” he mused, crouching down close to you. You tried to steel your resolve, looking directly into his amber eyes. He stared back, unblinking as he set down the drill. You couldn’t help but recoil as he moved his free hand towards your face. He let out a satisfied sigh at your reaction.

He rubbed his thumb softly against your lower lip, but before you could even think to bite him, he abruptly grabbed your face. You let out a squeal of surprise. He squeezed his large hand together forcing your cheeks to dig into your teeth. With your mouth held open he inched the pliers closer and closer. You let out a whimper as you tried to pull back, but he held your head firmly in place. He clamped the pliers against the tip of your tongue; your whole body started to tremble. A pained cried filled the room as Strade yanked hard. He roughly pushed his dirty fingers all over the surface of your slippery tongue. It took everything you had not to heave at the revolting taste. “You’re so wet, Schatzi” he moaned playing with your spit.

You felt your heart skip a beat as he called you that name again; why did you like it so much? This was so beyond fucked up. You closed your eyes, trying to distance yourself from the situation. For a second, you thought it might have been working, but then you heard the sound of the drill whirring in the air. Your eyes bolted open as you desperately pulled against the pliers. You gagged as you shook you head from side to side, “NO!” He slowly lowered the tip to your tongue, teasing it. “NONONONONONO”, your protests had become nearly incoherent. He pressed the drill down, shredding a hole smack-dab in the middle of your tongue. The scream you let out was blood curdling. You didn’t even know you could make a noise that horrifying. Mucus mixed with your tears and blood trickled down the back of your throat. An inhuman gargling noise was all you could make as he detached the drill bit, leaving it in your mouth.

“Ahhhh…” Strade huffed. He dropped the pliers on the floor, he didn’t need them anymore. Your tongue wouldn’t fit back in this way. He lazily started to move the drill bit back and forth with his fingers causing blinding pain with each movement. “S-ST-HOP” Your words were almost as sloppy as the fluids dripping out of your mouth. He chuckled before ripping the metal out of your mouth. A strangled screech caused everything to bubble at the back of your throat. Your whole body convulsed uncontrollably from the torture. You couldn’t take much more of this, but… how could it possibly get worse? Your question was promptly answered as Strade stuffed the head of drill into your mouth. “THANK GOD HE REMOVED THE DRILL BIT!” was your first thought, your second was, “THIS FUCKING HURTS!” He roughly pushed it in and out of your mouth, aggravating your wound, before pushing down on the power button.

The vibrating sensation filling the back of your mouth was like a fucked up switch for your body. The whirring sounds flooding your ears brought a sort of comfort; the fact you couldn’t put together a coherent thought brought some semblance of peace. The thrusting of the drill against your bloody, slobbery tongue started to feel… good. Your eyes fluttered open and closed; you couldn’t help but whimper as it shoved deeper into your throat.

“There you are~” he purred, using his free hand to stroke your cheek. God why did his touch feel like a gift?

It wasn’t long before he replaced shoving the power tool down your throat with another, his own hard cock. Your head had already been thoroughly rattled by getting drilled, so you didn’t resist. You weren’t thinking anymore, just acting. You had been a bundle of nerves flipping from fight, flight, and freeze since you met Strade and it seemed your body had another impulse it wanted you to follow. You were doing your best to bring him pleasure: rubbing your cut-up tongue all over his shaft, making obscene moans of pleasure, and looking up at him with helpless eyes. He placed his hands in your hair, ensuring you kept up with his rhythm. He placed his boot between your legs to give you something to rub up against, as if to give you a reward. The both of you pushed up against each other in tandem, until he reached his climax. You could feel the inside of your mouth become even stickier. You tried to pull away, but Strade held you in place, “Swallow it.” He growled. Something about hearing the harsh command made you remember that this wasn’t your choice.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Your thoughts were definitely coming back online. The fluids in your mouth started to slowly spill out around his cock, falling onto his boot between your legs.

He must’ve been able to tell from the way your eyes changed from glazed to bright that you had regained some fight. He laughed as he reached down and plugged your nose. “Swallow.” He repeated, giving you no other choice. You really didn’t want this to be the way you died. Reluctantly you gulped down the semen, blood, saliva, and tears pooling in your mouth. It was so thick and pungent, how did you not notice that before? You felt mortified when you realized cum had been a consistent part of your diet for two days. It took all of your willpower not to retch.  

Strade pulled out of your mouth, giving his typical toothy grin. You desperately gasp for air. “At least it’s ov-“, before you could finish your thought he abruptly stomped on you head. You bashed your face on the concrete and felt your nose start to bleed. “Clean it up.” He demanded shoving his dirty boot into your face. You were so disoriented from the impact that you hardly understood him. Your blurry vision started to focus on the filthy shoe in front of you. For fucks sakes you weren’t going to do this anymore!

“NO!” You screamed, but he didn’t seem to have much patience for you. He started to grind his other foot into the back of your skull. It hurt so much, everything hurt. You wondered if Strade still considered you unbroken; you shuddered at the possibility that he did. Was that what this was? A fucking test?

You tried to look up at him to give him a dirty look, but he wouldn’t allow it; he just kept you firmly planted next to his foot. This was so unfair and aggravating, because you could just feel his giddy eyes boring into you expectantly. You unwillingly placed your mangled tongue against the cold leather of his shoe. The pain made you hiss and retract. You felt pressure mounting against your head as well as his dirty shoe forcing itself against your closed lips. The slimy mixture started smearing onto your mouth and you opened up trying to prevent it from getting worse. The salty, metallic taste made you gag as he pushed his boot against your tongue. You felt so humiliated, was this your life now? Throat-fucking some psychopath and being rewarded for it with objectification and death threats? You seriously considered if this or death was better… you weren’t so sure.

You felt Strade ease up on your skull as you licked the remaining mess off his boots. Finally allowed to look up, you shot him a hateful stare. “Happy now?” is what you tried to say, but it came out as some sort of distorted version of that due to your fucked up tongue. He seemed to have no problem understanding you though, as he gently pet you head and smiled, “Very happy, Schatzi!”

[dragonlily88]

Your Love Gives Me Strength - Pacifica Northwest/Mabel Pines (Commission)

(This was my very first writing commission. It took me way longer then I would have liked... thank you so much @wombatking for commissioning me and being so patient. Story down below)

“Mabel… are you sure you want to do this?”

 “Yes, Dipper.” Mabel narrowed her brown eyes at her brother, a serious look in them that was rare to see in them. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.”

 Rolling his eyes, Dipper picked up the bottle of bright green nail polish. “Man, what shade of green is this? Radioactive snot?”

 Laughing, she watched the slow and careful strokes of the brush on her nails. “I think it’s actually called electric lime or something like that. I see you painted your own nails for this.”

 Taking a quick glance at his own nails before returning to the task at hand, Dipper’s cheeks took on a light pink tint. “Y-Yeah… black and gold are his favorite colors so…”

 “Oh, I see. Your super smart and totally hot boyfriend convinced you to let him paint them, didn’t he?”

 “N-No!”

 “...You feel for the puppy dog eyes.”

 “I feel for the puppy dog eyes.”  Sighing, his lips curled into a small smile at the memory. “He said that my nails were a blank canvas for him to express himself on.”

 “I bet that’s not the only thing about you that he compared to a canvas.” Wiggling her eyebrows, She laughed as her brother’s face turned a shade of red that would put a tomato to shame.

 “Mabel!”

 “Speaking of your rather attractive college artist boyfriend, where is he now? Still studying in Tokyo?”

 “Rome, actually. He’s thinking about staying there until he finishes school.”

 “I’m still surprised mom and dad let you date him.” Mabel didn’t hear anything he said after that as she focused on the date on the calendar. Today she was going to be going to a Pride Parade with her brother and girlfriend. She was so excited but also…  scared. So many bad things could happen. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe… maybe she should just stay home.

 “Mabel? Hello! Earth to Mabel!” Waving his hand in front of her face, Dipper made a face at the far off look in his sister’s eyes. “Are you in there? Mabel!”

 “Wha! Dipper, don’t scare me like that!” If she were still able to move her legs, Mabel was almost certain that Dipper would be wearing that bottle of nail polish.

 “You’re the one staring off into space… are you okay? You haven’t done that in a while.”

 “What are you talking about? I did that just last week when we were video chatting.”

 “Yeah, but when you finally snapped out of it you yelled, and I quote, “Not the kittens! Take me instead!” then proceeded to yell for Pacifica to bring you your teddy bear.”

 “His name is Captain Rehpic and he’s my second in command.”

 “Mabel, I’m serious. Are you okay?”

  Was  she okay? If she were being honest, no. She was a complete anxiety-filled, scared mess. Not that she would admit that so easily. That’d be like admitting defeat and that was something Mabel only did begrudgingly. So, she did the only thing she could think of at times like this. Put on a brave face and pretend that everything was fine. 

 “Dipper, I’m okay.”

 He knew that smile. Knew it all too well. Mabel was fighting a battle he’d never understand. This meant that no matter how much he wanted to help, he just couldn’t be what she needed to win at this moment. He’d let it go, for now. However, this will not stop him from worrying or passing on the information. If he knew Mabel - and oh lord, did he know his sister like the back of his eyelids - she’d seek out help when she really needed it. All he could do was silently offer his help and be there, waiting.

 “Alright. I trust you. Just know that if you ever need my help or to talk you can always count on me.”

 “I know… thank you.”

 “Mabel!”

 “Oh joy. Your rich, pretty, and sassy girlfriend is here.”

 “I bet she would get along with your boyfriend. They seem to have a lot in common.”

 “Whatever. I’m gonna grab a soda while we wait for your nails to dry. You should start thinking about where you want to get lunch on the way to the parade.”

 “Righty-o boss man!” As soon as the door was closed behind him, Mabel lost her smile. She could do this. Though, what she heard on the other side of the door was not helping her feel confident. 

 “You’ll never guess what I got for your…” Pacifica trailed off when she saw Dipper standing outside of the bedroom, leaning on the closed door. He had his arms crossed and a serious face. The last time he had looked at her like that was when she and Mabel had started dating. “What did I do this time?”

 “Nothing. But, we still need to talk.”

 ~*~

 “There. All set.” Taking a step back from her girlfriend, Pacifica smiled at her work. “Purple is definitely your color. Also, you were right about the skirt. Shorts just wouldn’t go with the outfit.”

 “Does that mean I’m the new fashion queen?”

 “I thought your fans answered that question for you long ago.” As they laughed together, Pacifica pulled out her own outfit for the parade. “Do you like it? I made it myself.”

 “Uh, I love it! What a dumb question. You work that ombre, girl.” Watching her start to strip out of her current outfit, Mabel let out a low whistle. “It must be my lucky day.”

 Placing her hands on her hips, Pacifica gave her an amused smile. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. Not to mention, I just stripped you not even five minutes ago.”

 “Does this mean you like me?”

 “Something like that.” Giggling, Pacifica finished getting ready. “Do you know where you want to eat yet?”

 “That cute little cafe near the park that takes in stray cats?”

 “You want to go to  Catfeine? Why am I not surprised? Though… it is a rather adorable place with really good food.”

 “Yay! Caffeine, kitties, and pastries!” 

 A loud groan and dull thud that the girls could only guess was Dipper smacking his head on something came from the hall. “She doesn’t need any more caffeine and sugar, you crazy woman!”

 “Let’s get going before your brother overrules you.”

 ~*~

 “Mabel, do reasonable. You do not need all of those-”

 “Silence! I have spoken! Give me more!”

 Sighing, Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was to be stared at by strangers in a cat-themed cafe while his sister yelled at him about stickers. “You have a problem.”

 “YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!”

 “You’re gonna get us kicked out if you keep yelling.” Taking another look at his sister’s wheelchair that could now pass as a float, Dipper fixed Pacifica with an annoyed look. “I blame you.”

 “What? All I’m doing is making my girlfriend feel beautiful and happy.”

 “You’re feeding her sticker and glitter addiction.”

 “Which makes her happy. Honestly, it’s not the worst thing she could be addicted to.” Tying the last sparkling ribbon to the chair, Pacifica took her seat at their table. “What do you think?”

 “I think that I have the best girlfriend ever. Dipper would never cover me in glitter.”

 “It gets everywhere! Last time I helped you with doing glitter eyeshadow it somehow ended up on me and I kept finding it the weirdest places.” 

 “Where was the weirdest place?”

 “...You don’t wanna know.”

 The three laughed as their food - or in Mabel’s case, dessert - was set down in front of them. The conversation kept going between the two as Mabel just silently stared at her food, almost as if trying to will the spoon into her mouth.

 “Uh… Mabel-”

 “No. I got this.”

 Sharing a look with Dipper, Pacifica reached over towards Mabel’s spoon. “Sweetie, let me-”

 “No! I can… I can… I can’t do this anymore! I’m tired of being completely useless! I mean… I’m not able to do anything on my own. I need help doing everything! Do you have any idea what this feels like? To not be able to do even the simplest of things?”

 “Mabel… why didn’t you talk to us about this sooner instead of just locking how you felt away?”

 Looking down at her lap, Mabel couldn’t find it in her to look either of them in the eye. “Because I thought I could handle it. I figured that maybe if I can’t take care of myself anymore, I could at the very least handle my own thoughts and feelings for once.”

  “I learned very quickly after that, that I didn’t have to do it alone. No matter how stubborn I can get. Going through something is hard for everyone physically, mentally, and emotionally… I don’t know how I got so lucky to have the people that I do in my life. After a much-needed cry and group cuddle session, along with dessert, we were off to have a great time at pride.”

 “Miss. Mabel?” A kid rolled up to the group in a wheelchair with their mother. They looked nervous, holding a picture that Mabel quickly recognized.

 “That’s the limited print we did for the blog!” The picture was of her, Pacafic, and Dipper in some wacky design she had dared them to wear with her for April Fools.

  “Turns out that they were a huge fan of my blog and that I had inspired them to chase their own dream of being a professional athlete.”  Pacafic held up a picture of two taken at the parade, the kid beaming.  “Their name is Alex and they were in a horrible car accident that left them paralyzed from the waist down. Seems they were going through the same problems as I was, not talking about how they felt or asking for help. But they’re seeing a therapist to help… actually, I am now too, thanks to Alex.”

  “We still see the little slugger from time to time either for collaborative videos or when we get invited to their games.”

  “Yeah! Man, can that kid play some mean baseball!” A loud thud came from upstairs, causing the girls to sigh in annoyance. 

  “Dipper! Tell your boyfriend to calm down and keep it in his pants for just a couple of seconds so we can finish the video!”

Laughing as she left the room, Mabel continued.  “Long story short... I learned a lot these past few weeks. I never knew that I would miss being able to do small things like change my own clothes or feed myself until I wasn’t able to anymore. But, on the bright side, I get to take baths with my beautiful girlfriend whenever I need one. I have such wonderful, caring people who love and support me in any way they can… and you guys do too! If you’re facing a battle make sure you don’t fight by yourself. I’m sure there’s an army, no matter how small, waiting in the wings to fight alongside you. You can get through things together. Stay beautiful and true to yourself. Mabel, signing out.”

[horde-princess]

omg 17 would be perfect

Sorry this took so long! I’ve been soo busy and kinda distracted with the new season ✨ There are still a few prompts in my inbox, plus Home Is A Lonely Place, not to mention all the meta i still wanna write sldjfskj there’s a lot going on

but anyway i yelled when i read what 17 was tysm for sending it!!! 💖 this is filled with angst and does get a little spicy so. take care of yourselves out there

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

Adora twisted against her handcuffs uselessly, wrists chafed and bloody, before finally giving up and dropping her hands into her lap. Her head was buzzing with fatigue and hunger, her muscles ached from spending the night in a Horde prison cell that was about as comfortable as a bed of nails. Still, it offered a semblance of safety, and for that she was grateful–since every second spent trapped here was time that she might have spent being, well, dead.

The Rebellion defense had been a total disaster. No, that was a lie–Adora was the only one to blame. She let Catra manipulate her again, choosing to save her friend’s life even knowing it would result in defeat. Why Hordak took her captive instead of killing her on the spot was a terrifying mystery that Adora preferred not to unravel right now. She couldn’t let fear paralyze her. She had to think of a way to get out of here. She had to get back to Glimmer and Bow, she had to help her friends–

A sudden movement in the darkness outside her cell startled her. She sat up straight against the wall, blowing loose hair out of her face. Whatever they did to her, she wouldn’t let them see her spirit broken.

But the shadowy figure was… familiar. Adora’s heart rate picked up and she watched as the door slid open to reveal the only person who actually did have the power to break her. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Catra’s expression unreadable. Adora was expecting insults from her, or mockery, but… none came. Truthfully, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Catra frowned, marched over, and yanked Adora up to her feet by the handcuffs, causing her to hiss in pain.  

“Let’s go.”

When Adora resisted, Catra gripped her arm painfully and dragged her out of the cell anyway. Her animosity never ceased to feel like some kind of fucked up hallucination.

“Catra, don’t do this!”

“Would you shut up?” she snapped. “If you get us caught, we’re both dead.”

She released her and pulled out a tablet, glancing nervously around the empty atrium.

“Wait… what do you mean ‘if we get caught?’”

Catra grit her teeth. She touched the screen and there was a quiet click as a door near them unlocked.

“I’m trying to get you out of here, dumbass.”

Adora felt like the world just slipped off its axis. She must have been more exhausted than she’d realized because there was no way she’d heard that right. But hope clawed at her insides anyway, demanding and vengeful, struggling to escape the little coffin she had shoved it into long ago and buried six feet underground.

“You’re… helping me escape?”

Catra shot her a glare then started walking again, pulling Adora along with her. Hostility emanated off her in waves. They passed through the doorway and started down a deserted corridor, broken lights flickering eerily. 

“But why?”

She rounded on Adora, stoic anger turning fierce. “Do you know what Hordak wants to do to you?!” she whispered. “He’s not just going to kill you, Adora! He wants to torture you, corrupt your powers–prod you like a lab rat until there’s nothing left.”

Adora had guessed as much, but that wasn’t really what she meant.

“I don’t get it, isn’t that what you wanted all along? I mean… you’ve been trying to get rid me ever since I…”

Left. Abandoned you. Ruined everything. She didn’t know how to say it aloud. 

Catra was quiet for a moment, then she sneered.

“No one gets to take you down but me. Got it? Especially not fucking… Hordak. And if I can ruin one of his plans while I’m at it, all the better.”

There it was again, fluttering madly in the deepest recesses of Adora’s chest. Hope.

“But why not just take me out now?” she pressed, wishing Catra would just tell her the truth, for once. “I don’t have my sword, I’m powerless.”

“Yeah, well, exactly!” Catra sputtered. “You’re all chained up and pathetic right now. It wouldn’t be a good fight.”

“…Catra–”

“We just have to get to the–Shit. Someone’s coming.”

Searching frantically for an escape, Catra pulled her into a niche in the hallway. 

The space was tight and dark, and Adora could feel Catra’s shallow breaths, and every accidental touch of their bodies sent a wave of anxiety screeching down her spine like nails on a chalkboard. All at once she realized exactly what Catra was risking by trying to save her. If she got caught… it would be the end of her.

The guards’ voices drifted over to them, getting closer. There must have been three of them, maybe more.

“…weird signal coming from the prison block.”

“No, it’s three in the damn morning. It must be a glitch.”

Catra took a steadying breath. “There’s no way they won’t see us here. How many can you take?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just take down some armed gunmen with my hands cuffed.”

Catra groaned quietly, clenching her fists, and Adora could see the wheels in her head turning. Then her body went slack and her eyes filled with what could only be described as… horror.

Unmitigated horror. 

Adora blinked at her.

“Catra?–”

“We have to kiss,” she breathed.

Adora’s brain slowly faltered to a stop like an overworked motor.

“…Um. What.”

“Think about it! Why else would two teenagers be hiding in a dark corner in the middle of the night? If we can play it right, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

The voices were getting louder with each passing second and Adora was experiencing a strong wave of nausea. 

“You can’t be serious,” she rasped.

“Well I don’t hear you coming up with any bright ideas!”

The shuffle of boots echoing down the hall suddenly stopped.

“Hey, did you hear something?” A woman’s voice said, her flashlight beam sweeping near them.

Catra held her breath and Adora did the same, feeling like the blood in her veins had been replaced with electric current.

“Check the door over there.”

Catra was so close, and so warm, and so Catra; and if she closed her eyes she could imagine they were just kids again, sneaking around the Fright Zone, getting into trouble together. She could forget everything that had happened the past few months, all the pain they had caused each other. She could forget this was a life or death situation. She could forget that Catra hated her fucking guts.

…Though, apparently, not quite as much as she once did.

“Nothing here, boss,” one of the guards said.

“Keep moving, I know I heard something.”

It was dark, but not dark enough to hide them once the flashlight illuminated the space. As soon as the guards walked past them they’d be spotted. They’d be asked to identify themselves, if they didn’t already know their faces… fuck.

“…It has to look convincing,” Adora choked out.

Catra met her eyes, expression carefully neutral. 

“Take off your badge.”

Catra did as instructed. Adora moved behind her so her back was to the wall, hiding her tied hands from view. The guards were closing in fast. Catra’s face suddenly turned pale.

“You know what? This was a stupid idea.”

“Huh?”

“There’s no way they’ll just let us go… what if–I could take them myself, right? I  fight giant killing machines all the time–”

“Catra, they have guns–”

“Or I could tell them who I am, say I was just taking you to the–”

“Catra!”

The guards were feet away and the light was sweeping towards them and before she could think too much about it Adora surged forward and crushed her lips to Catra’s.

The earth seemed to drop out from under her.

God, it was so… wrong. It was fake and bitter and poisoned and fuck, it shouldn’t have happened like this, it shouldn’t have happened like this.

It took a second for Catra to respond, but then Adora felt her moving deliberately to make it look natural. She wrapped an arm around her waist, roughly pressing Adora between the wall and her body. The whole thing lasted for all of two seconds before she sensed a light shining on them.

“Oh–”

“What–”

“Shit–”

Adora’s head spun as Catra pulled her lips away and turned to address the guards, keeping her hands on Adora and her body pressed close. She was functioning at about a half a percent mental capacity and couldn’t begin to imagine how Catra was handling this so easily.

(Maybe it hurt her ego. So what?)

“The fuck?” Catra griped loudly. “Can we get some privacy?”

“Sorry, ladies, there’s been a security breach and–we didn’t mean to, uh–we’re supposed to check your badges–”

“We’re a little busy, here,” she interrupted, flipping them off as she turned back to Adora with a dangerous smirk. 

Her previous distress was all but gone now, masked over with an exaggerated confidence. She gave Adora a meaningful look, then leaned in and caught her lips in a sensual, open-mouthed kiss. And now that her brain had caught up with her body… Adora was on fire.

The guards, the prison, the Horde, the Rebellion–it all disappeared in a puff of smoke as Catra’s tongue twisted with hers, two opposite forces coalescing, and nothing in the world mattered but this, nothing existed apart from this. If Catra were to stop kissing her, she thought the fabric of her universe might rip apart. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the guards walking away, but Catra wasn’t stopping the kiss, and every touch, every swirl of her tongue was bringing Adora closer to some kind of breaking point. Catra slipped a thigh between hers and a soft moan escaped her, she couldn’t control her body’s response anymore, and it definitely wasn’t part of any act.

Catra must have realized that, too, because she immediately pulled back to look at her, wearing the most smug expression Adora had ever seen on someone. Heat rose in her cheeks as reality slowly pulsed back into focus. 

The guards were gone. The universe was, somehow, still intact.

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask, princess.”

Asshole. Adora wanted to smack the mocking grin off her face. Too bad her hands were tied.

“What–I don’t–Screw you! That was way past ‘convincing!’”

Catra cocked an expectant eyebrow and Adora relented with a sigh.

“Sorry. I… I know you’re just trying to help me.”

For some reason that made Catra’s smile fall. She leaned in again, lips close, her scent washing over Adora, smokey and intoxicating.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

They locked eyes for a long, tense moment. The taste of her lingered on Adora’s tongue and her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid Catra might hear it. There were no guards, no threats… it was just her and Catra this time. Catra, the person who had vowed to destroy Adora and everything she cared about. Catra, who was supposed to be her enemy. Catra… who was currently saving her life. 

“We should…” Adora licked her lips. “We should go.”

“Yeah,” Catra agreed.

But the second Catra’s eyes fell to her lips Adora was pushing forward and kissing her for the third time that night, giving into something furious and insane and probably inevitable. Catra sighed into her mouth as her hands raked down Adora’s body and she struggled against the handcuffs, not even feeling the pain of it, just desperate to touch her, and–fuck–this wasn’t fair–

Reading her mind, Catra raised Adora’s arms above her head and pinned them there with one hand, the other moving down to lift her leg around her hip. Adora swallowed back a whine as Catra pressed flush against her body–her kiss urgent now, consuming–and Adora arched into her, giving up any pretense of dignity or self-control. She was unraveling more with every new touch and she decided she didn’t care how fucked up this was anymore… she didn’t care if Catra was manipulating her, whether she hated her or not–what did it even matter? There was such a mess of emotion between them, it was impossible to make sense of, and if this was how it manifested in Catra, she really didn’t mind. 

Then, with a harsh movement–seemingly out of nowhere–Catra broke the kiss.

It was like having the wind knocked out of her. Adora slowly came to her senses and felt how Catra was struggling to control her breathing, fingers trembling against Adora’s jaw. The silence stretched between them. When she finally spoke, her voice was dark and… devastated.

“…What are you doing to me?”

Adora didn’t have an answer.

Catra’s grip on her loosened, she stepped away, and it left Adora feeling ice cold in the absence of her touch.

“Catra, I…”

What could she say? That she was sorry? She wasn’t. She was selfish, and stupid, and cowardly, but absolutely nothing in her was sorry. 

Not for this, anyway.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Catra stated rigidly.

Adora wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to convince. Still, the weight of the words crushed her. She had nothing left, her cards were all on the table. If Catra were to ever use this against her… she almost laughed at the thought.

Catra turned away from her and walked out into the hallway, but Adora was afraid to move, afraid to shatter the illusion.

This doesn’t change anything. The words echoed in her mind over and over again.

“So that’s it?”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah.”

Catra looked back at her and jerked her head towards the exit, then walked away without waiting for Adora to follow. 

[pumpkin-spice-whump-latte]

Whumptober #5: Gunpoint

Say hello to my oc’s Ben and Dr. Tillman again! This one evolved into something a lot darker than I had originally intended. The good doctor wants to find out how much “incentive” it’ll take to make Ben hurt himself, rather than just passively being hurt by someone else.

[If this breaks your brain a little I wrote a part 2 to help make it all better.]

tw: electrical torture, psychological torture, gun violence, self harm?, suicide mention, uhhhhh tell me if I missed anything? 

_____________________________________

“Take the gun.” Dr. Tillman said. Ben’s heart was already beating like a frightened rabbit--had been ever since he’d swam back to consciousness with three of his four limbs restrained by metal cuffs to a metal chair--but as soon as the command was given his mind started racing as well. Where was he? This wasn’t the usual lab room, this was... somewhere else? The walls around him were the same stale, dingy gray but it was largely empty except for him, his chair, and his tormentor. 

Oh yeah, and a table with a single handgun lying on it.

He also noticed with a growing sense of horror that his torso was bare, and there were wires connected by electrode pads to his stomach, under his arms, and on his neck. Very soft and very sensitive places. He tried struggling, even though he knew it was useless. He was only able to move one arm, his other wrist and both ankles were bolted down with thick metal cuffs to the arms and legs of the chair he sat in.

“...What?”

“Take the gun.” Dr. Tillman repeated himself, more firmly this time. The sound was coming from right behind him, so Ben wasn’t able to see the scientist’s face, but he could tell from the tone that he was serious. Or... at least that he meant to be serious but--he couldn’t be serious. Could he? Tillman didn’t seem at all concerned about the possibility that Ben would just use the gun to shoot him, instead of whatever sick fucking thing he was going to try and convince him to do. Ben’s eyes fell to the table in front of him, where the gun lay on it’s side. It was within reach and the one arm the scientist had left unbound could grasp it. 

So he did. Slowly. Hesitantly. He’d never held a gun before in his life, but a thought went through his head about being able to tell if it was loaded by it’s weight. He’d seen enough cop drama TV shows to have picked that up, but didn’t have the experience to know what the weight of a loaded gun should feel like. He sat there, just holding it, still utterly confused until the next command came.

“Now point the gun at yourself.”

Ben nearly dropped the damned thing in shock. “What? No way! Are you crazy, man? I’m not--” A sudden current of electricity shot through him, sinking it’s teeth into the soft parts of him that the electrodes were stuck to and running through him like a wolf. His hand squeezed convulsively on the trigger of the gun, and he got his answer about whether it was loaded or not; the crack of a bullet firing echoed through the empty room. Thankfully he’d been aiming it slightly away from himself, but now he also had his answer to why Dr. Tillman was behind him. 

So that he didn’t accidentally get shot and cut his “experiment” short.

When the pain finally dissipated enough to let him breathe again his hand went slack, the gun falling heavily to the floor with a metallic clank-clunk. 

“Subject resists self harm, applied 12,000 volts. Repeating.” Tillman came into view only long enough to pick the gun up and set it back on the table. Then he swiftly retreated behind Ben’s back again, and repeated the same command as before. 

“Take the gun.”

The pain was still buzzing through him like the aftershocks of an orgasm, making his whole body feel numb and tingly in some places and hot like it was on fire in others. It was especially bad around the skin of his wrists and ankles; the metal of his cuffs had acted as the perfect conductor for the electrical current, and made it feel like a layer of his fucking skin had been seared off. He couldn’t tell if it had been or not but...

This was crazy. This was stupid. A sort of anger bubbled up in him, defiant and stupidly brave (or just stupid). “You’re fucking insane! I’m not going to shoot myself, you sick fuck! I’m gonna shoot you!”

“Are you.” There was dry sarcasm dripping from that voice behind him. “Are you sure? Remember, little rat, your bonds are secured with metal and screws. Not ropes that you can hope to chew through with your nasty little teeth. Only I have the key to your freedom. If you shoot me you will sit in that chair and starve--”

“Go FUCK yourself!”

“--a cold, lonely, drawn out death. My other subjects won’t be able to help you and we are miles from any civilization. So what would be the better option, do you think? Shoot me and suffer for days as your body slowly shuts down from starvation and thirst? Or...” Am arm came around from behind his chair, taking the gun and holding it in front of his face. Not pointed at him. Just showing it to him. Offering it to him. “I never said you had to hold the gun to your head, silly boy. You may hold it to your shoulder or your leg, if you wish.”

With fire and hatred and a little bit of growing despair in his eyes, Ben slowly took the gun again. His hand wouldn’t stop shaking but he managed to wrap his fingers around the handle again. Fit his index finger into the space beside the trigger. He felt lightheaded. He felt like throwing up.

“Point the gun at yourself.” More than Ben’s hands began to shake at that point. Was this madman really going to force him to shoot himself? Was this all just another weird test? Another experiment???

Of course it was.

“Subject resists self harm.” Another jolt from the electrodes and his body went stiff again. It felt like his actual heart clenched and his lungs forgot how to breathe while that lightning was running through him. His skin was burning, burning, biting, oh god he couldn’t pull away, he couldn’t move! (The gun went off again and he hoped the bullet pinged off the wall and hit that fucking bastard right in the head, right in the fucking head.) He couldn’t pull away or make it stop PLEASE make it stop he couldn’t handle the beast gnawing at his insides anymore, his neck, his stomach, everything was shaking--vibrating--but somehow paralyzed at the same time--

And then it stopped. Somehow, blessedly, it stopped.

He was openly sobbing by then. Hiccuping out shamefully broken words. “P-please don’t make me...please--please don’t make me do this...” He felt the gun being forcefully placed in his hand this time, rather than just being set back on the table. He turned his head to the side, refusing to look at it. As if that would somehow make it not real.

Ben couldn’t possibly imagine what the pain of taking a bullet would be like, but he was starting to think it wouldn’t be as bad as getting shocked again. Nothing could be as bad as that. 

“Applied 50,000 volts.” Wasn’t that higher than last time? How many volts were considered dangerous? He had no idea. He was a doctor, not a goddamn electrician. The scientist still stood poised behind him, but just then a hand came up and ran long, gnarled fingers through his hair. Up from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head, where those fingers curled into a tight grip. “Point. The gun. At yourself.”

When Ben seemed to wait a second too long, mind fitfully trying to weigh it’s options, Tillman yanked at his hair. There was the quick sound of some switch flipping and it didn’t take a lot for Ben to imagine it was the switch to whatever electric device he was hooked up to. He yelped out in pain and fear, not only from the root pulling sting on his head, but from the expectation that he’d be shocked again.

But he wasn’t. This time. This time it had been a warning. It had also been a show of how conditioned he (already) was, and the thought made him burn with anger as well as shame.

It was fear that broke him though. Fear of the pain, fear of the shocks, fear of the unknown since he had zero idea how much a human body could take before the heart started skipping merrily down the road to atrial fibrillation. He knew the term but not much surrounding it. He did not want to find out. So it was out of stark cold, pants pissing fear that he finally, slowly, pointed the barrel of the gun at his left arm. Some coldly rational part of his brain that was still functioning around the fire of panic reasoned that it was easier to lose the use of an arm, rather than a leg. And he couldn’t just... point the gun at his head....

No... No, that would... be silly. 

The thought of suicide crossed his mind, tempting him like a passing hooker, but was defiantly ignored. The scientist must have known that would be one of his options but was banking on his pride or will to live preventing him from doing it. The scientist had won that bet. Ben knew with a grim resoluteness that he couldn’t just give up. He had to try and survive and make it home to his...

No, no. He couldn’t think about that right now. He’d really fucking lose it if he thought about how nice his own bed had been. How warm those arms had been.

But he couldn’t take another shock either. The voltage was going up higher each time and he wasn’t sure his body could withstand the next level. Taking a bullet couldn’t be as bad, right? It wouldn’t race across his entire body at least. It would just be his arm. Just his arm.

“Pull the trigger.” The hand in his hair yanked again. He had a feeling the scientist’s patience was wearing out. How much time did he have??? Shitshitshitshit! It was just his left arm, right? He... he didn’t even need that one. He was right handed. His left hand couldn’t even legibly sign his name. It was just a little bullet. He could do this. ‘Don’t wait too long or he’ll shock you again, Benny boy.’ His mind taunted him. Goaded him on in a voice that sounded eerily like the scientist’s, even as he inwardly pleaded with whatever higher power would listen. ‘Oh god, oh god, save me please save me from this, I don’t want to do this, I want to go HOME this is crazy this is crazy thisiscrazy!

He pressed the gun against the bicep of his left arm, sucked in what he hoped was a steadying breath...

And squeezed the trigger. 

[pinupghoul]

Weird personal post just for my own memory sake

So I broke my ankle for the second time in two years last Saturday during a roller derby clinic my team was hosting and I want to write out how it’s been so I could remember it in detail. Hurting yourself like this is something that people don’t really explain when you ask what it’s like. Maybe people forget which is why I want to write it all out.

When I broke I was going in for a hit. I was the pivot and wanted to get a girl I know is a hard hitter out of my jammers way. She hit me back (I’m convinced illegally since she was facing non derby direction) and somehow instead of just falling backwards I fell back but heard three snaps. I immediately knew I broke my ankle. I hit the ground and said “Carrie you just broke my ankle” no tears or anything. Refs and everyone took a knee and they splinted me up and I stood with someone’s crutches and was driven to the hospital. I wasn’t there very long and had x rays taken on my ankle and my knee. I had a break up on my fibula where I said it hurt the most and a break lower on the “knuckle” parts of my tib and fib. The doctor didn’t have to set anything so he put me in a splint and I went back to the clinic to score keep for the last game. The pain level was manageable to say the least. I didn’t take any pain meds the day of, the next day or the day after. I saw an ortho and he said I would need surgery to make sure my ankle is actually on right. They put a new splint on me and that was that. Still no medication. I had surgery on Thursday August 29th and right before that the pain was mostly in my upper calf, like a leg cramp kind of pain. I just wanted to stretch my leg and my toes out so badly. The worst part of course pre surgery is feeling the bones shift when you move around. 🤮 I was up most nights because of the pain and not being able to get comfortable but obviously I managed. The day of the surgery I went in around 10:30am and got my paperwork taken care of and was put into a room where I laid in a comfy hospital bed (my favorite) and the nurses sterilized me and set up my IV. I took my time in there to relax because I hadn’t been able to sleep much before this. Eventually I was wheeled into pre op and met my anesthesiologist. Real nice dude who walked me through my nerve block and everything. I’d never had one before and it was definitely interesting. They took an ultrasound machine to my leg and a needle as long as my forearm almost to get deep in my actual nerve. It didn’t hurt much except for one point it felt like someone torched my foot for half a second. It hurt bad but for only an instant. By then the drugs in my iv are kicking in and I’m feeling amazing. They take me into the operating room and there are tons of people in there. They were all so nice and happy and I got myself onto the table and they positioned my arms in a good spot and one of them put an oxygen mask on me and said “this is just oxygen” to which I replied “JUST oxygen?” And I breathed once, but it was hard to breathe deep, then I breathed in one more time normally... and then breathed in a third time deep........and then woke up in recovery. At this point I actually don’t really remember waking up in the recovery room. I don’t remember going from recovery to my last room. I do remember opening my eyes and someone asking if I can open both of my eyes lol when I got to the last room I remember being in, my friend Hanah came to get me and I had some jello which was the best jello I’d ever had and some water. I talked to her till I was coherent enough to get dressed and leave then we went and got some Thai food. I appreciate her so much. Because of my nerve block I actually couldn’t feel my leg for the rest of Thursday and all of Friday. So during this time I tried to do as much around the house and moving around as I could. However my leg was pins and needles-y kind of numb. Aaaanddd I was paralyzed. Literally. I couldn’t move my toes or foot AT ALL, which is terrifying. Finally by Friday night I could move my feet. The pain had begun because the pins and needles were getting worse and regular feeling was coming back.

Saturday Travis and I laid in bed and slept off and on until about 4pm. Sleep, wake up, have sex, fall asleep. Rinse lather repeat. Finally we actually got up and sort of cleaned the house a teeny bit then went to his friends house. Actually his fried Aaron’s parents lake house. We got there around 8pm and just sat out on the patio looking out on the lake. Real talk, it was so fucking nice. Throughout this time I’m regularly taking my medication because of the soreness I feel in my leg. It’s sore and I can sometimes feel the actual pain of the incisions. It hurts bad enough that I’m looking forward till the next time I can take sometime about two hours before I can take it again. The feeling of my leg being on fucking FIRE when I stand up started sooner and wasn’t as bad as the first time I broke my ankle. Thank god. A lot of it is just trying to get comfortable and not put too much pressure on any one sensitive spot.

Yesterday (Sunday) we went back to Aaron’s house around 1 or so and had food. I was pretty fucked up on medication but not totally out of it, just really really tired. We sat outside on the porch again and eventually went out on their pontoon boat and went around the lake for about an hour and a half. I’m so happy and thankful that Aaron and his family were incredibly helpful with me only having one leg to get on and off a boat with. It’s sort of embarrassing needing grown men to lift you in order to do anything. Also, I guess I should note that this time around I have been using almost exclusively a knee scooter. I think it’s been helping me in a lot of ways. Bending my leg more, wanting to be more mobile, etc. yesterday is also when I started supplementing my medication with cbd oil. It’s a 500mg tincture and honestly I don’t think it’s doing a damn thing for me. The pain is still very rough to get through without my regular Norcos.

Now today, Monday, Labor Day. Travis is off so we’ve been sleeping sexing sleeping again and slept off and on until around 1pm today. I have also discovered that my vibrator is like a little tens unit and makes the pain in my leg almost nonexistent when I use it! I’ve been taking collagen supplements and comfrey as well. Once again all I want to eat are burgers!! Big juicy cheeseburgers. And everything I’ve eaten has been the most delicious thing I’ve eaten which makes it even better. Food hasn’t hit this hard in ages.

Today the pain is more of a moderate to almost severe “discomfort”. If I said pain, I’d say mild to moderate. Manageable with one pill only. The swelling in my leg has gone down immensely. I can tell in how my splint is fitting me. I’m excited to see how I feel tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow I’d really like to go to the gym with Travis and do some upper body stuff or abs or whatever I can really. I just want to stay active and in shape where I can.

[mysnarkyslytherinsecret]

Imagine Severus surviving the bite, but when he wakes up in the hospital, he's high on anesthesia.

It is bright. So bright.

Severus squints and tries to cover his eyes, only he can’t move his arms.  He tries to turn his head, only he finds that he can’t seem to do that either.

He tries to yell, but all that comes out is an asthmatic wheeze.

Oh. Oh, that’s right. I should be dead.

He tries to wiggle his toes.  Oddly enough, it seems that they still work.

Well this is just great. I appear to be alive. And…paralyzed from the feet up.

Severus is not certain if he will be able to inflict harm with only his toes, but he is willing to try. Whatever moron has decided to steal him back from the Great Beyond will be in for a world of hurt when he finally gets out of…wherever he is.

He opened his eyes again and then wished that he hadn’t.  Bright lights above him made his vision (or what passed for vision) swim.  Oddly enough, the sensation led more to a bubbly feeling in his belly instead of the nausea he expected.  Still, his eyes were screaming in pain, so he shut them again, the afterimage of the lights casting shadows on the insides of his eyelids.

“Ah, I think he’s awake.” The voice was garbled and slowed down to the point that Severus was initially convinced that Grawp had somehow learned full sentences.  Hagrid had, after all, trusted him with his particularly large secret first, even before he’d told Dumbledore.  Severus supposed this was a testament to his ability to keep a secret, though he wasn’t sure that this was actually a good thing or not.

Severus felt the sensation of something thick and dry being pulled from his mouth and tried to cough.

“Don’t…push yourself, Severus,” said the voice, and Severus opened his eyes once again, glaring up at whoever had the audacity to-

The nurse was…a fish?  Her giant, puckered lips and yellow spotted scaled face was tilted down at him, her bulging, lidless eyes fixed on him.  Her gills fluttered as she pulled the cotton swabs away with her fins.  Severus stared.

“Yurafish,” he slurred.

“What did he say, Marla?” Another voice called out from further behind the fish-nurse, who turned back. Severus was amazed at the fins all over her sides and head.

“I think he said I was a fish!” 

Severus winced as they began to laugh. “Nuhfunny,” he managed.

“Untie his hands, Marla,” said the second voice, which sounded more normal.  Severus supposed that he must be under the influence of a spell or potion, but whatever it was, it was beginning to wear off.  Severus felt pressure on his wrists and cold.  Freedom! 

He tried to sit up.

Bad idea.

Instead of sitting, he merely flopped forward and began to keel over the metal railing at the side of the hospital bed.  He could see the linoleum floor rising up to meet his nose-

“OI, MARLA!”  Severus heard the second voice cry out, then he froze midair. There was the telltale tickling sensation of a spell all across his skin.  

Severus began to laugh, which sounded absolutely ghastly, even to his own addled ears.  It was something in between a hacking cough and a raspy wheeze.

“You nearly dropped him!”  The voice had come closer and Severus blinked at what was standing before him, holding a wand.

A…bush made of hair?

“Hedge!” he giggled, his scratchy voice cracking embarrassingly.

Two ears stuck out of the top of the giant brown mound of fur, and Severus could see a tail wagging behind the mass. “Oh! It looks like the sedative is wearing off!”  

Severus grunted as he was placed back in the bed.  The second voice pulled aside long brown tresses of hair and two warm, brown eyes stared back.  The wide muzzle and long, panting tongue gaped down at him.

“Yer a dog,” he said, shocked.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Fish-lady tittered.

“Not tryn t’be nice, fisch,” Severus said, sticking out his tongue.

“Well, at least his tongue and voice seems to be mostly working,” the Dog-woman said.  Her tail was practically a blur behind her.  Severus supposed that this was a good sign.

“Good puppy,” he crooned scratchily as she dipped down to take his vitals.  He flopped one hand onto her head and tried to convince his fingers to scratch behind her ears.

She seemed to be amused, well, as amused as a dog’s features could manage. “The wound is no longer weeping. Gross motor movement seems to be improving.  I’d say that the procedure was a success!”

The fish woman was scribbling something down on a pad of paper, and this stuck Severus as something both hilarious and amazing.  “I’m glad they hired you to write things!” he exclaimed, grinning sloppily.  One side of his mouth didn’t want to work properly, and he managed a crooked smirk.

“Now, don’t strain yourself,” the dog-woman said tersely, “you’ll rip open your stitches.”

“Whastiches?” he slurred.

“Severus, if you don’t-”

“Where stiches What did y’do?” he said, beginning to panic.  He remembered the snake, but there was nothing else in his mind, and he began to think that perhaps his body had been grafted onto Nagini somehow.  Panic filled him like ice water.

The dog-woman was trying to say something, but it seemed to come out in frantic barks instead of words. Severus briefly registered the sight of a wand being pointed at him and then all was darkness once again.

“Feeling better?”  Severus blinked and yawned, feeling only a slight pinch in his neck as he did so.

“Who-”  Severus stared.

There, sitting next to his bed, was Hermione Granger, her hair bushy around her head.

Severus groaned. “You saw me making a fool of myself, didn’t you?”

“You’re not a fool, Severus. You’re a hero. It’s over. It’s finally over.” Hermione smiled at him and Severus momentarily debated with himself about wiping that look off her smug little face, but then he realized that she was right.  It was over.  And he was alive.

“Nobody knows you’re here, Severus,” Hermione said, before he could open his mouth. “Harry told me everything.  Obliviate me if you like when you’re all better, but I want you to have a fresh start.  A life just for you with no strings attached.”

Severus stared at her. “I think I must still be on the drugs. Or dead, perhaps, and this is just a cruel joke?”

Hermione snickered and shook her head. “No cruel jokes.  No death.  Just you and me and a bit of a long road towards healing.  But I wasn’t lying.  You deserve to have a choice and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you have it.”

Severus laid back and stared at the ceiling, trying not to blink and will the tears that had begun to spring into the corners of his eyes.  

“Severus?”

“For now, this is enough,” he managed to croak, finally.

[inadarkdarkroom]

Why I TP’d My Own House

This happened when I was about thirteen years old and I still think about it today.

My friend Jackie and I were extremely mischievous children. We loved joking around, sometimes using extreme measures to pull the best pranks. I can remember climbing a neighbors tree with her, and devising a rope-and-pully system with a basket and water balloons to get the balloons to the top of the tree so that we could throw them at the neighborhood boys without being detected or retaliated against. Sometimes we would do mildly dangerous things to get a good rush, but it was never serious, just harmless messing around.

One night Jackie came over for a sleepover. We ate a bunch of candy and talked about boys, and then we got bored. It was around 1 in the morning and we were hyped off of the sugar so we couldn't sleep. One of us mentioned that we wished our other friend, Bailey, was there to hang out with. And then I got the most brilliant idea of the evening: the two of us should sneak out of my house, walk over to Bailey's and then TP her front tree.

Now for those of you that don't know what TPing is, it means toilet papering. You know how the douchy frat boys in college sometimes throw toilet paper all over other fraternity houses to show dominance or manliness or just plain stupidness? That's what I wanted to do. She, of course, thought it was a brilliant idea. So we stuffed a bunch of rolls of toilet paper into two large purses, put on some sneakers, and then sneaked downstairs and out my back door.

It was a summer night, so not too cold which was good because we were wearing tank tops and pj shorts. The walk to her house was half through neighborhoods, and half through a long stretch of road next to a golf course with a neighborhood at the very end of it. Bailey's house was a little under a mile away, so we began hustling so that we could get there faster and maybe tap on her window and get her to hang out if she wasn't asleep. We began walking, at first nervous that my parents would catch us, and then confident that they wouldn't, we begin giggling and talking about boys again.

Now, I'm sure that most people reading this will think we were very stupid, and we were, but you have to understand the context of the situation. My hometown is VERY quiet. Nobody goes outside after 8:00 at night. It was ranked in the top 5 safest cities in the United States. Nothing bad happens there, or nothing that we knew about at that age. We had up until that point thankfully never had the opportunity to be afraid of walking alone, or at night growing up.

So with that in mind, we figured we had nothing to worry about. We kept chattering on as we crossed the residential area into the golf course and didn't miss a beat in doing so. Suddenly, an suv lazily rode up going the opposite way of us. I can still remember it like it happened a few minutes ago instead of years. The suv was large, red , and four doored, with a middle aged man driving. He slowed down as he approached us, and rolled down his windows.

"Hey Girlies. What are you doing up so late at night?"

He had a huge mouth, with perfect, straight white teeth, and he would have been handsome if he hadn't been so strange.

"Nothing."

He raised his eyebrows at that

"Nothing. All by yourselves? Well thats Dangerous."

He smiled again, this time even wider, and I could, for the first time in my life, feel fear ripple through me like a wave.

" We are walking to my Dad's house. He's waiting for us."

Silence crept between the car and us. I had lied. He knew I lied. He looked at me, then at Jackie. For a minute I actually convinced myself that maybe he was just a very very creepy nosy neighbor. But there was something so wrong with him. He took his time replying, twisting the words around his mouth like he was tying a cherry stem into a knot.

"That's..... interesting. You're so young to be allowed out so late wearing ...that. You better hurry home to him before it's too late."

The air stood still. The only thing keeping me from bolting was Jackie by my side. I couldn't see her face because I was locking eyes with the smiling man, so I wasn't sure if she heard what I heard too. " you better hurry home before it's too late." "Too Late." Too Late at night... or Too Late for ...what? I didn't want to know, and I was certain that if we somehow were separated things would go very, very badly. I thought quickly. He was on the other side of the road. He would have to go a distance to get us. I tore my eyes from his and risked a quick glance at Jackie, and Jackie wasn't moving either, she was looking at me with wide eyes, as if I knew what to do. So I pretended I did.

"Thank you, Sir. Have a good night."

I grabbed Jackie's hand and marched down the sideway away from him in what I hoped was a confident way. His suv lingered behind us, unmoving. We kept walking, gripping hands covered in sweat together as if it was the only thing keeping us from certain death.

Clack Clack Clack

Our footsteps made empty hollow noises down the deserted sidewalk. My ears were in sonar mode, listening for something, anything, a car door opening, a mans voice.... But I refused to turn around and give him the satisfaction of knowing I was afraid. I didn't want him to know we were. Suddenly, a car screeched into gear and we heard him peel down the asphalt. We started running, and as we ran we both looked behind our shoulders. He had driven off the opposite way, away from us. We didn't slow down.

Eventually we could see where the edge of the golf course ended and in the distance, where a sleepy neighborhood of houses began. It was a ways away, but it symbolized safety to us, so we slowed down. We walked in tense silence for a while. I looked at Jackie's face and her jaw was clenched. She looked at me.

" That guy..."

"Yeah."

.............................

"What do you think he wanted?"

"You know what he wante-"

"Yeah. I was hoping you would say you knew him."

"No."

Clack Clack Clack SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH

The sound of a car booking it down the road came from behind us. We both turned at the same time to see the man in the Red Suv, now on our side of the road, coming straight at us. Neither of us moved, I think we were paralyzed with fear. He Jerked to a stop next to us and began to get out of the car.

"Run!" I shouted

And we tore down the sidewalk towards the houses. The smiling man started shouting something at us but I couldn't catch what he was saying and I wasn't about to turn around and try to find out. The houses were getting closer, but he had gotten back into his suv and was following us shouting things out of the window. There was a corner coming up, and we heard the suv stop, and then him get out and start running after us.

"That way!" Jackie screamed

We turned the corner into the neighborhood, but there was nowhere to go. It was one in the morning, no one was awake, we didn't know any of the people who lived in these houses, and by the time someone woke up to open the door he would catch us. But the first house on the street had a low fence. I pointed to it and didn't even have to say a word to her. We both hopped it and tumbled into a strangers backyard.

They had a Dog. Luckily, it didn't attack us. Unluckily it began barking. We sprinted across the yard and quickly hopped their fence into the neighboring yard which didn't have a dog, and hid behind a bush and a temporary pool in the back. The Dog in the yard over kept barking. From a hole in the bush we could see through the wrought iron fence out into the street. Nothing. Then a voice.

" I know you're here girlies."

We could hear him walking around but couldn't see him. A gate rustled and the neighbors Dog barked even louder. He was looking for us in the first yard that we had went into. He said something else but we couldn't understand him. And then we didn't hear him for a long time. A shadow appeared through the iron fence- the neighbors dog. It had been let out of its backyard, and had wandered past the one we were in. For all we knew he knew exactly where we were and was playing with us, So we didn't move. We sat silently in the bush for hours.

As the night began to fade and the early morning sun began to frame the edge of the hills, still dark but less so, we heard an engine rev. In horror we watched the man in the red suv drive slowly by through the fence in the yard we were hiding in, his face set, turning, searching, still looking. And in that moment I knew why he had driven away the first time; he was giving us a head start. He was hunting us, and he didn't want the prey to go down too easy. It would have ruined his game.

We sat in that bush until around 6:30 in the morning when it was it was fully light out, and then we ran back to my place to hop in bed before my parents woke up. When we got to my house, I realized we still had all the toilet paper we had stolen from my kitchen cabinets in my bags.

"Jackie.... since we never TPd Bailey's house, lets TP mine. It has a better tree. Besides my parents will never suspect it was us because who the fuck TPs their own house?"

It was true. The tree outside of my parents house is a truly magnificent maple tree. And my parents would never guess that we were the culprits. But thats not why I wanted to TP it. I wanted to release all of the tension from the night before and relax again. I wanted to pretend that we were not almost kidnapped in the middle of the night without anyone knowing where we were or why we had disappeared out of our beds without a trace. I wanted to feel like a kid again.

"Yeah. Lets do it!"

So, we completely wrapped my enormous tree in toilet paper, throwing roll after roll up and around, and then hosing the entire thing for good measure (so it would be harder to get out...."more authentic") and then crept up the stairs and fell asleep, exhausted in my bed. Approximately half an hour later my mom burst into my room screaming

"SOMEONE TP'D OUR HOUSE!!!!!!!"

And that was the end of our sleep, because my mom was sure that one of "your annoying little friends did this and thought it was funny" and "we need to combine a family effort to get it off because the ASSHOLES USED OUR HOSE AND SPRAYED IT DOWN!"

Jackie immediately remembered a mysterious obligation of babysitting for her brothers on a Saturday morning, and she had to go do it or else her mom would get mad, and so I was stuck with my irate family combing through wet maple leaves and sopping wet disgusting toilet paper through the afternoon. I learned two lessons that day.

Do not TP your own house (for so many obvious reasons...)

Do NOT walk anywhere at night, with a friend, alone, to pull a prank, to go on a run, do not go. Because you never know who might be out there waiting for an opportunity to hunt.

[coffeeandsquats4-blog]

How I got over a break up and how you can too

“There is no shame in breaking. We can all break. And we can all heal. “

And suddenly, they are gone. The person that promised you to always stay, no matter what. They promised and not only once. In fact, they promised you about thousand times. “But I am not like others, trust me. I am not here just for the good times, I am here forever.” Yet, they left. Not wanting to have anything to do with you ever again.  

What now? Shocked, confused, scared, broken. That is probably all you can feel. That one person, that was supposed to be your forever suddenly chose not to be. That one person that you trusted with everything just broke your trust. That one person who loved you, simply doesn’t love you anymore. It is the end of the world.

Well, except – It is not.  

Break ups are without a doubt a scary thing. In fact, they are one of the most painful experiences we ever go through. The bad news is, they are part of our journey and if we ever choose to love (or not choose to but end up loving someone anyway, you know how tricky love can be) the chances are that sooner or later, break up happens. Sometimes, break up happens when people become bored of each other, when they want different things in life, when they decide that perhaps the other person is not what they want and choose someone “better” instead. Sometimes, people refuse to do the work and rather walk away, other times, no amount of work and effort can save what is already falling apart. No matter what type of break up you go through, it will never be easy. That is a fact. On the other hand, the good news is that nobody died because of a broken heart and that you can successfully overcome even the most painful break up. Again, that is a fact.  

We are all different and there is not one universal way for everyone that would tell you how to deal with a broken heart. In terms of me, nobody actually ever told me how to react to someone just telling me they are breaking up with me and nobody definitely ever told me what to do after that. I had to find my ways and I had to figure out myself. The chances are that probably, if you ever go through a break up, you also have to figure out yourself what to do and how to react. And that is completely okay.  Sometimes, however, even though we do not need to be told what to do, we still need some type of inspiration. We simply need to know that other people are going through the same experience and that we are not alone. Or maybe, we just want to know that if what we are doing in response to a certain situation is the right thing to do. So here I am, sharing some of my tips, sharing some of my experience, hoping to maybe inspire anyone. Hoping to show you that no broken heart is truly broken and that even if it doesn’t feel like it at first you can heal and you can grow and you can, for sure, be able to love (and be loved) again.  

Take your time and cry. Cry a lot.  

Do you know what the one and only queen Beyonce said?   “Whenever I feel bad, I use that feeling to motivate me to work harder. I only allow myself one day to feel sorry for myself. I ask myself...what are you gonna do about it? I use the negativity to fuel the transformation into a better me.”

So there you go. This is literally a queen’s advice. It must be right. Even Beyonce allows herself one whole day to feels sorry for herself. To feel whatever she needs to feel. To let all the emotions out. No matter what it takes. And let’s be honest. Usually, it just takes a lot of tears.   The day after my break up I was supposed be at work. But once I opened my eyes in the morning, I started crying. So guess what? I took a day off. I took a day of simply to cry. To cry a lot. To cry hysterically. In fact, I started laughing a couple of times at myself. I started laughing at how hysterically I sounded. (I really apologize to my neighbours) I really did cry a lot. And I cried a whole day. But guess what? I felt so relieved after. So do not be afraid to take one day just to cry. It is much better than trying to pretend everything is okay. Because let’s be honest. At that time, it is not.  

Talk about it.

You’re done crying and now what? Well, you guessed it. It is time to talk about it. To talk about what happened. To tell your instagram followers that your relationship is over, so nobody asks you and reminds you later. (Okay that is just a joke but...is it really?). But seriously – call your mom or your best friend. Call or meet and talk to someone you know is going to listen to you and understand you. And tell them everything. Tell them what happened, what and how you feel. It is a good way how to get some more emotions out (If you still have some left after all the crying of course) and often, people who were not involved in the break up can look at the situation from an absolutely different point of you and maybe give you some advice, make you realize something you did not realize before or simply provide you with the comfort you need.

Take care of yourself.  

Forget the ice cream, cookies, movies and bed. The famous way people deal with break up in the movies. Except, in the movies, the actors do not go through a real break up and therefore, they do not use the real way how to deal with it. Nobody ever felt better after eating more junk food in one day than in their whole life so why should it make you feel better now? Plus, don’t you feel bad enough because of the break up itself already? Make yourself a delicious healthy meal, get your nails done or visit a hairstylist. Work your way to becoming the hottest ex they ever had. 😉 (Oh and don’t forget to invite your bestie to do all this with you, just in case you want to make this process even more fun)  

“Don’t allow the person who broke your heart to be the reason you can’t eat, sleep, or function right. They don’t deserve to keep you paralyzed. Get up and start living!”

Music helps. But wait...does it?  

Okay. I know what you think. All the break up songs and songs about love. But that is not what I am on about. The thing about music is that it can make you feel better but at the same time, it can also make you feel worse. There is no way how to listen to a sad songs and remain completely happy and cheerful, even at times you are not going through break up or any other painful experience. So please, forget about the slow romantic songs. Do not listen to them. Ever. Well...okay not ever, but definitely not right after break up.   From my personal experience, I did not listen to any music the day and few days after my break up. Because I just knew, sad songs would make me feel even worse and happy music? Oh, heck no, I really was not in a mood for that.   So now you probably think I was just sitting in a silence all day, how could I even handle that? But the truth is, no matter how much I love silence time to time, I absolutely couldn’t stand it back at that time. So, no music, no silence, what did I do? Well, I started listening to podcasts. Lots of podcasts. Podcasts on various topics, some of them were relatable (about break up, boys, love, you know...) but some of them talked about really silly stuff like which lipstick is better and why. (I don’t usually wear lipsticks btw.) The thing about podcasts is that you, of course, avoid silence but also, you feel like you are not alone. In fact, many times I felt like I am just hanging out with my friend or someone who understands me and tells me all about their experience in terms what I was just going through. And somehow, I suddenly did not feel alone. I knew. We all go through this and we all can get through this. And that’s a fact.  

Learn from it. And forgive.

“Maybe this is the way it’s meant to be. Cross paths with others and learn many things. Learn how to love, feel, forgive, and find yourself in the process.”

This is simple. Don’t just blindly throw all the blame on the other person. Look at yourself first and evaluate what you could have done differently and what you can change in the future. Evaluate your own situation and learn from it. And most importantly, forgive yourself. Forgive yourself for a mistake you did before you even knew you are doing it. And of course, forgive the other person as well. Don’t hate them, don’t try to get them back. Just let them go.

Negative emotion is also an emotion. Detach completely.  

After break up, we often feel like we need to prove our ex (and sometimes even the rest of the world), that we are fine, we are happy and we are so much better without them. We post pictures with our new friends on social media hoping they will see how great and fun life is when they are not around. But deep inside we often feel this tension. This anxious feeling of trying look happier than we truly are, just to make them feel worse. Just to make them regret they left. The thing is, no amount of fake happiness or instagram posts won’t bring them back. It won’t make them regret anything and it just will make you feel worse.   All this is often just our coping mechanism. It just shows that we are not over them, even though our pictures and quotes we share are supposed to convince everybody otherwise. You also can’t move on and be truly happy again if you are still emotionally attached to your past. And it doesn’t matter if this emotion is positive or, in this case, negative. Even negative emotional attachment is still an attachment. And what is attached cannot move. And you need to move. Move forward.   So do all the fun things. Go and meet new people, have fun, dance, sing, laugh. But do it for yourself. Don’t do it to show your ex that they are missing on something. They are ( 😉 ) but it is not your job to prove that to them. They are not worth your energy and effort anymore, not positive and not even the negative one. Detach completely and move on. Inner peace is the new success. You will be happy. Truly happy, trust me.  

Enjoy the gift of time and choice.  

The beautiful thing about being single is having the gift of time and choice. Time – to do everything you’ve always wanted to do and that you had no time to do when you were in the relationship. Maybe you wanted to learn a language, travel, become a personal trainer, meet new interesting people, start a project, move into a different country. What if this is the right time to do all this, what if there will never be more free time to invest into everything you’ve always wanted to do?   The gift of choice, on the other hand is all about new people. Now, I am not trying to tell you to start dating a week after your break up, you really need some time to heal, but! Once you are ready, you will see that there is so much more to life and meeting new people becomes exciting again.  There is so many people walking on this planet and there simply is not one particular person that is “the one” for you.  Thousands of souls are compatible with yours and the beauty of life is that you never know when and where you meet one of them. And please, tell me, how exciting is that? 

“I hope you fall in live with someone who celebrates your soul; someone who never stops pursuing you.  And I hope their heart becomes the type of home where you never have to worry if the light will be kept on for you or not.”

[philosophiums]

I'LL FUCKJN FIGHT THE UNIVERSE MYSELF TO GET IT TO START LETTING GOOD THINGS HAPPEN TO THESE BOYS (20 fic continuation with 45 or 71 with "the best case scenario")

-Okay so I too am always a slut for angst, but I’m also a major softie so I’d die without happy endings. Pretty please do a part II of the #20 prompt??? Bonus points for Neil being a little shit about catching Andrew getting all mother-hen over him.

-Will you do a sequel to the Neil coma fic?

-I feel like reading your angst is like me asking you to step on my heart with stilettos on (but like in a good way?? somehow??) It’s like these boys suffered so much in canon that I feel bad wanting them to suffer more but like… the angst tho… But then again I’m always a sucker for a happy ending… So could you continue your prompt 20 post using prompt 59??

lmaoooo okay okay xD here’s the original post. I could only fit 45 and 71 in, but hopefully this is alright for everyone

#45 “What are you looking at?”#71 “You don’t get to pick and choose. You’re stuck with me.”

Neil regains consciousness in increments, and it’s nothing like waking up. He feels like he’s floating, and then he feels heavy, and he’s aware that he’s in a bed but he’s not sure of anything else. He’s sure he’s forgetting about something, like there’s a scrap of information at the back of his mind but it’s hidden behind heavy boxes that won’t budge. He would need Andrew to move all of that baggage.

Andrew.

Neil becomes aware of someone talking to him, but it’s not Andrew. He knows that; it’s the only thing he’s certain of. 

He opens his eyes because he needs to know if Andrew is nearby. The first person he sees is a middle-aged woman smiling at him. Beside her stands a twenty-something man in polkadot scrubs. Neil frowns and turns his head the other way. Andrew’s eyes lock with his, and Neil feels less like there’s a stack of cinderblocks on his chest. HIs breath falls heavy from his parted lips, and for a moment he allows his eyes to close, knowing that Andrew is there to keep him safe.

“Neil,” the woman says, trying to get his attention. He wants none of it. He wants her to go away. But when he tries his voice to tell her to fuck off, nothing happens. He parts his lips, but there’s a heavy silence between his brain and his vocal chords. “Neil,” she tries again. Neil can feel panic settling in, and as it takes hold of him, he becomes more and more aware of the disconnect between his brain and his body.

He remembers the impact of the other player, the collision against the wall. He hit his head. Neil’s instant fear is paralyzation.

“Stop it,” Andrew says. Neil watches Andrew’s mouth move, takes note of the hard cast to his eyes. Andrew’s weight is heavy and welcome on the edge of the bed. “Stop panicking. Breathe.”

Neil tries. He breathes. He leans into the fingers Andrew presses to the pulse on his neck and relies on that to keep his heartbeat in check, despite the very audible heart monitor to his left. Neil works his throat again, parts his lips, and says, “Hi.”

“I think I deserve a bit more than a ‘hi,’” Andrew says. Neil has no doubt that, to the nurse and the doctor, Andrew sounds bored or even annoyed, somehow detached from the situation. But to Neil, who has had over a decade to figure out how Andrew works, he sounds downright relieved. 

Neil wants to ask how long he’s been unconscious, how bad he’s hurt, why Andrew looks so rough around the edges, why his eyes feel so heavy, fuck. But he can’t get his mouth to work fast enough to keep up with his thoughts. In the end he wraps his fingers around Andrew’s wrist, tugging Andrew’s hand away from his neck and winding their fingers together. Andrew’s hand is solid, and Neil feels tethered in an otherwise brutal storm.

The slight head tilt Andrew gives him feels like a conceded point.

“Neil,” the doctor says, trying once more to get his attention. 

Maybe Andrew sees the exhaustion on Neil’s face, maybe Andrew is getting annoyed with the doctor too, but regardless he turns around and levels a glare at her. “Why are you still here?” Neil doesn’t for a second move his eyes from Andrew’s face, but he hears the doctor make an offended noise. Andrew plows on ahead. “We know. Take it slow. Don’t rush. ‘You’ve been unconscious for a long time’ etcetera.”

“Excuse me?”

Andrew stands up. The set to his shoulders is defensive. He’s willing to fight for this. Neil makes a grab for him, but Andrew pulls away. “Leave.”

The doctor wises up and, instead of arguing, actually goes away, taking the nurse with her. Neil wants to reprimand Andrew for being rude, but he can’t deny the panic that eases from his chest now that it’s just them in the room. He can’t deny the urge he felt to pull a knife on the doctor and her nurse, to incapacitate them and then run and run until his past is no longer in his peripheral.

It’s hard convincing himself that that’s not the life he lives anymore. 

Andrew sits down slowly, body tense. Neil is all too familiar with how long it’s been since he’s caused Andrew to react so much.

“What are you looking at?” Andrew snaps, his eyes still on the door.

Neil’s sigh is slow and tired. “My husband.”

Andrew snorts, unamused. “Not for much longer. We’re forever paying off your hospital bills.”

“You don’t get to pick and choose,” Neil says, but he’s smiling. He understands; he heard the ‘we’ and he knows what it means. “You’re stuck with me.”

Feeling slowly creeps back into Neil’s limbs. He’s a bit confused on what day it is, can’t really remember the exact circumstances surrounding his injuries, isn’t sure why he’s been unconscious or for how long. He picks up Andrew’s hand and presses rough knuckles to his lips. He is sure of the soft edge to Andrew’s gaze, and, as far as Neil’s concerned, that’s all he needs to know.

[apprendrelacoeur]

i had a dream last night that...could actually be a nightmare as well. i’m not entirely sure. it was exhilarating, but also terrifying. & paralyzing. 

we were living in a world where the universe was falling apart. atmospheres were significantly thinned out. stars & planets lose their gravity & just start falling. oceans were changing & the tides were lowering--instead of rising--revealing the most horrific creatures that lived at the bottom of the sea. 

as bad as all that sounds, the thinning atmospheres made night skies on earth incredibly beautiful to look at. you could see so many planets, so many stars, so many other galaxies. complete galaxies! i saw rings of shining planets surrounded by their suns & moons. i saw ones far & near. i saw supernovas. it was absolutely breath taking. i thought it fitting for me to see the universe in all its glory so close to my death--seeing as how the earth would soon fall.

every night, people would gather outside to look at the sky together. everyone. it was really nice. & every night you would see something different. people would ask, “wow i wonder what galaxy we’re going to see tonight” or “i wonder how many stars will appear tonight”

on one particular night, i was by the ocean. i watched the tides lower significantly, exposing these disgusting & terrifying caterpillar creatures that looked like the trilobite Ohm creatures from Nausicaä of the Valley of the WInd. It was an awful sight for me. there were thousands of them just left out to die after the tides went away--& they were huge. one was about the size of a Toyota Corolla. but with the world ending soon & there being no more need for new buildings, construction companies began moving these creatures away as their new mission. after i saw them, a giant machine immediately swooped them away. 

then i continued looking up into the sky--& so did everyone else around me. i was so mesmerized. then some people came by & said they had 9 free tickets to go to the Escape Club. the Escape Club was like a simulation room. it simulated what it was like being in the middle of a cluster of asteroids or stars before, during, & after they’ve fallen. the thing about the Escape Club was that it wasn’t like a VR simulation, it was real. they would put you in the middle of an actual asteroid or star cluster & you would be right next to them as they fall, one by one. but you wouldn’t fall. they developed invisible technology that would keep you floating there in zero gravity. with no astronaut gear, mind you. somehow they were able to keep oxygen flowing within your bubble of invisible technology.

they didn’t pick the 9 people that would get to go. you just had to go up yourself if you wanted to. people got so excited. going to the Escape Club was a big deal. i wanted to go...but i was terrified. if it were a VR simulation then i wouldn’t hesitate, but the fact that i would actually be put into space terrified me. but once 7 people went up, i just got up & went. &  then they took us to the Escape Club. 

i was put into space, standing in the middle of an asteroid cluster & seeing them fall one by one to the depths of the universe. it was terrifying. i looked down at my feet & all i saw was a gradually darkening abyss of space matter, stars, & nothingness. i couldn’t step on anything. i couldn’t hold onto anything. i was just there. & as the asteroids closest to me fell, i could feel the wind they’d leave behind as they fall (although if this were conforming to actual science 100% i’m pretty sure that would be impossible). oxygen was still flowing in my bubble of invisible technology but it got harder & harder for me to breathe because i began to fully realize the gravity of the situation--pun not intended but greatly appreciated in the moment.

& then i woke up. frozen.

i clung into my blanket & the plushies closest to me on my bed, thankful to be grounded, bound by gravity, & in an actual enclosed space. as much as i love space, that last moment in my dream was not a moment of reverence & gratitude for the universe. it was pure fear. space didn’t seem beautiful to me because i was so scared of falling into the darkening abyss of nothingness. let’s say i did fall with the asteroids. i wouldn’t know how long i’d be falling for. i wouldn’t know what i’d be falling into. i wouldn’t know anything. i’d just be falling. trapped. thank goodness i didn’t fall while i was dreaming because otherwise i would have woken up way more terrified, extremely paralyzed, probably in a cold sweat, & too traumatized to even blink. 

i realized from this dream that along with being most scared of loneliness & being left alone, i am unequivocally scared of falling into something unknown--figuratively & literally. i never let myself get involved in something i don’t know a lot about. i never let myself be haste, or unreasonably spontaneous, or too rash, or too impulsive. i hate getting those dreams where you’re just falling & when you wake up you feel like you were trapped between two giant slats of heavy metal. 

i don’t want to end up alone, walking or running or falling into a path that never ends & only gets darker & darker. i am so scared of that happening. i fear that if that were to ever happen, my anxiety would get the best of me & convince me that the best way to get out of it is to have regular episodes & panic attacks.

or worse.

i fear that if that were to ever happen, i would slip into old & dangerous habits. familiar, but dangerous.

; e

[rtracy13]

4 Laps Later...Graduation from the 21st grade

Not sure if this happens to anyone else, but save for a handful of races I tend to get to the finish line of the mile/1500 and wish I had maybe 50 more meters because my legs have finally turned over and I feel like I could have gotten that one more person. Graduating medical school feels a little bit like that - hey wait, where did all the time/track go?!

So here we are. Guess I should start by filling a few things in since my post about retiring/match day coming up/attempting to train for the half. 1. I matched in emergency medicine at SIU! 2. As for the no track thing, I will have to find a track at some point (and maybe a buddy) before 2018 is over because I need to run one more mile…. I have an irrational need to say I broke 5 minutes in the mile at least once a year for 10 straight years. 3. and more importantly however, I did run the Indy Mini Marathon (!) and then graduated from medical school the next day. Without falling while walking across the stage in heels no less! I definitely don’t necessarily recommend racing a half and graduating in the same weekend. I may or may not have put my family through the ringer getting them all up at 5am (which to them was 4am) with me to get downtown for the race and then basically having us all going non-stop the rest of the weekend with graduation activities.

Welcome to how my life has run the last 4 years, its fun isn’t it?

Anyway, I’ll start with the Mini. Training was about as rocky as expected, my mileage wasn’t as consistent as I hoped it would be (shocker at this point I know), but I did spend a month up over 50 miles at least. The week of the match was a pretty big setback unfortunately after an awesome and confidence inspiring 10-mile race. I barely hit my mileage and I got zero workouts in because I spent most of the week slightly paralyzed by the anticipation of finding out where I would be a resident. In retrospect this is really silly considering I knew Monday that I would be going somewhere, which is really the scarier email. The one someone brilliantly decided to title “Did you Match?” I don’t know ACGME did I?! Seriously thought, who decided that would be a good header… Anyway, got back into the groove mostly in April, but it was a little tougher being in the ICU from 7a-5p everyday instead of the shifts of the peds ED so things got moved around a lot. Somehow it is infinitely more exhausting to be sitting around reading all day than running around the ED sometimes I swear. I got to do my last big workout with Anna though as our big races were the same weekend and despite (per usual) having my ass handed to me it was an awesome workout that had me excited to race.

On race day I was pretty calm, maybe too calm, but the biggest hurdle for me was less the distance at this point and more the fact that Indiana decided that we skipped spring and would go right to early summer with the morning temperature already somewhere in the upper 60s/low 70s. For reference the 6-miler and 10-miler I did in preparation were a lovely 34 and 30 degrees respectively (thanks Indiana) and I think I may have only had 3 total workouts that touched actual its warm ‘break out the sports bra’ weather. Oh well. Overall though, race day was awesome. Less a mile in there was a guy in a kilt playing the ND fight song on the bagpipes and I just took that as a sign that no matter what it was going to be a great day.

           - Clearly early in the race when I was still smiley and not dying -

I went in thinking if I can make it just a little further than the 8 mile mark where things starting getting tough in the 10 miler that I was in for a banner day, so I was a little disheartened when at mile 4 I was already feeling the ‘oh crap 6-minute pace is going to suck’ feeling. Following Anna’s wisdom however I told myself to relax rather than my natural response to get mad, push down and get frustrated and found that I was still running 6:05-6:08 and got myself mostly back into a groove that I thought maybe I could recover from. Then we hit the racetrack. Awesome sure, but it is reeaaaallly different to run around it than it is to watch an Indy car go around it at 180mph… needless to say it becomes the worlds longest feeling 2.5 miles ever no matter how cool it is to be running where the race cars drive and over the historic finishing bricks. I was hurting at mile 10 after coming out of the track. (Thanks Nick for reminding me at this point I have JUST a 5k to go. That is not what a miler likes to hear for encouragement.) There were a couple sad sacking 6:18ish miles at this point before I convinced myself push down and finish it up, I think my last mile was back down around 6:08. Unfortunately not quite fast enough as I barely missed breaking 80 minutes finishing 7th in 1:20:54. But hey Meb was the one who helped me up from the wobbly leg walk after the finish line so really how upset could you get at that point anyway?

So my big reach goal was break 75 if the best day ever happened, my real A goal was break 78 (average just under 6min pace), B goal was break 80, and my C goal was finish, don’t stop, don’t cry, avoid pooping pants. So I at least hit C. Maybe some of it was the delirium of I can’t believe I managed to keep myself going, but I honestly had so much fun despite not really hitting my goals save for finish. I had come so far (like 7+min PR if you want to get technical) from my lets jump in a half for funzies in November that had me absolutely dying just trying to run more than 10 miles for a long run again. (My previous last real 10+ mile long run before that was maybe May or June so I had no business jumping to 13 from like 7 or 8 on a whim.) Regardless, the best part is I finished and I definitely want to keep working to do another one! Kind of want to work on that 5k too just to feel like I’m really moving fast again ;)

   - See Mom, I didn’t deliriously make it up! I was with Meb at the finish line! -

Moving on to the medicine side I should back up to Match Day. Back in March I opened up a big envelope with “Rebecca Tracy has matched Emergency Medicine at SIU School of Medicine in Springfield, IL” inside and I was over the moon. My closest Classmates and I all matched within our top ranked programs: Family Medicine at Virginia, OBGYN at Good Samaritan in Cincinnati, Internal Medicine at Henry Ford in Detroit, Derm at Largo Medical Center outside Tampa and myself in EM at SIU. We’re going to be doctors! (Cue flood of intoxicated 20 and 30 something’s on downtown Indy.) My family came down for the weekend to have dinner and celebrate with me and everyone was excited that I would be moving just a little bit closer to home. And after 9 years in Indiana finally coming home to Illinois.  

Fast-forward a month and a half and its graduation weekend. I think I speak for most of my class when I say graduation was fun, you got to turn to your right and left, shake hands and very officially exchange ‘Doctor’, ‘Doctor’ with your classmates with ridiculous grins of disbelief that we finally made it, but it was mostly surreal and hit us all later at different times and for different reasons. It hit me finally not the first time I saw ‘Rebecca Tracy DO’ on something but when I was listening to a podcast about medical history any they were discussing the evolution of medical education. When discussing the current system they started all the way back with the classes you take in undergrad, taking the MCAT, preparing for Step 1, and that’s when it hit me. Oh my god I actually did all of these things! I am on the other side. I am a doctor.

And so begins the process of adjusting to the reality of being a resident physician and the transition into actually responsible for decisions that affect people’s lives and health. Not just learning how to do it and suggesting things, but actually the responsibility of doing it. So my mantra for the next little while when faced with problems or scary situations is, ‘They picked me for this program because they believe that I will be good at this, so I will take a deep breath and go because I’ve got this”. (Sorry if this is not confidence inspiring to anyone needing to visit an emergency room in July. We all have to deal with our imposter syndrome at some point; I promise we are well overseen by confident and more importantly highly competent people!)

  -Thanks Dr. Walsh for putting up with me & being my hooder at graduation-

So here I am at the beginning of June, already tired of vacation and ready to have things to do other than unpack boxes (going to be regretting these words in a month and a half I’m sure). I took a phenomenal graduation trip out to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks to start my off on my life goal of hiking in all the national parks. Watched my cousin get married to the most wonderful guy and welcome him to the family true Tracys awkward dancing to Mama Mia style. Sucked it up through some food poisoning to celebrate one of my classmate/best friend’s wedding to her also amazing husband and now working on moving myself into life in Springfield!

Just enjoying the cool down before the next exciting race begins.

                                   - Cheers Doctors! We made it! - 

[joshuazev]

On Visualizing:

You always want to find the middle ground of having enough people to deal with to keep you busy and enough space and free time throughout the day to get the much needed relaxation you hoped for.  Finding that balance today was a challenge.  

I told myself that the subway trips in the morning have to be spent working on my materials and preparing for auditions instead of getting the sleep that I should have gotten the night before.  Then it became, “I’ll start to work on my stuff after 168th St., but I’ll close my eyes for a couple stops.”  Something about the combination of sleep deprivation and subway rides make for a dangerous combo.  

I got to work today having stuffed a bit on my audition submission even though I knew I still had some time before the due date.  As I’ve mentioned before, it’s a weird moment when you realize you’ve become a procrastinator and it’s troubling to me because that was never a problem I used to struggle with.  It’s a hard habit to break much like getting to sleep on time or not pressing snooze time after time after time.  My mind was kind of all over the place behind the front desk despite the fact that four of the six hours I worked didn’t have a steady flow of customers.  Last night during closing I set up all the emails I was going to send out today as drafts to help save some time to work on other stuff, except after I sent all of the freshly written messages to theatre companies in Alabama, Tennessee, and Kentucky it felt like I had way too much time on my hands, so I started the next round of states to submit to, which in clouded Michigan, Indiana, and Alabama.  I learned that I’ve sent messages to theaters in half of the United States so far.  I’m not sure how many emails that is, but I’ve gotten a lot of responses.  I probably hear back from 10-20 percent of them and of that 10-20 percent only 1-2 actually permits me to send over some video material.  The others consist of “thank you submitting, we’ve already cast our upcoming seasons” and “thank you for submitting, we will keep your headshot and resume on file.”  I’ll take it.  One is more than none.  

When I finished working I slogged through a mediocre leg workout in which I was spending too much time doing a cardinal sin between sets…looking at my phone.  It was one of those days where even if you couldn’t see what was the grey outside you were still getting slowed down by it.  My energy felt sapped, my drive felt stalled, and my passion and zest for the Friday felt subdued.  Somehow someone convinced me to get the app called “Meetup”, which for some reason always felt like another app that got grouped in my head as something I never felt like trying or seeing what it was like, despite the fact that it actually could be promising.  Is it possible that I got it because a girl I thought was cute recommended it to me?  Maybe.  Is it possible that this girl wouldn’t necessarily give me her number, but said I could come play dodgeball with her?  Maybe.  

So I went to play dodgeball, one of the the most classic gym games known to man that i hadn’t even played for fun since one night in Seattle at Bobby Morris playground in front of packed fences and tons of passerbys.  I can’t say for sure what it is about dodgeball that’s so fun, but it really is.  It’s one big adrenalin rush.  It’s painful.  It’s dangerous.  And truthfully, there aren’t too many sports where you can watch people throw balls at people as hard as they can on purpose.  I got to Houston St., walked toward the court where they set up the boundaries and introduced myself to some pretty random people that I never would have met had I never gone out on a limb.  When you have so much pent up energy from the day there really isn’t a better game to let loose.  Now you’re not supposed to aim at anybody’s face, but sometimes on accident people do get pelted and it’s that kind of horrible crazy moment where if you’re the one that’s thrown it or if you see it happen your body kind of becomes paralyzed for a moment and your face kind of screws up.  Some of these guys and girls were throwing HEAT and it was an electric feeling to see people getting into the game.  For ever person that smacks someone in the side, there is the crafty strategist who focuses on a certain area or tries distracting the opponent to turn the game around.  I couldn’t stay for very long, but it was a good enough experience that I’m sure to return on another Friday coming up and I’m definitely going to look into other meetups that seem cool to me.

The reason I had to leave early was my friend waited at 6AM to get tickets to Shakespeare in the Park’s production of “Julius Caesar.”  I was a little worried it was going to rain, but the weather behaved and we made it safe and sound through the show.  The Public’s rendition of the Shakespeare classic was as obvious as they come.  Set in the contemporary age of current politics, Caesar was unflinchingly America’s Donald Trump and the rest of the play followed the same narrative.  That wasn’t without the peculiar interruption, however.  Right at the moment that Caesar is stabbed, a right wing activist jumped onstage to shame the audience and the theatre company for promoting violence against the right.  After the steady stream of boos rained on the protester and she was led off another guy started saying that we were all Goebbels and that we were Nazi’s and that we were to blame for the recent congressional attack.  He was showered with some healthy boos as well.  When both of the hooligans were escorted off stage, the stage manager on the intercom announced they would be continuing from “Liberty, freedom,” a part of the play and the audience proceeded to give the actors and the company a standing ovation for withstanding the interruption.  The play was very very solid and it was refreshing to see some new things being tried and watching some awesome stage actors take on these iconic roles.  

At 11PM My friend and her friends and I all stopped at the Meatball Shop in the Upper West Side to talk about the production and talk about acting and discuss our lives in New York.  It was a conversation that I had visualized in my head back in Seattle when I thought of what Friday nights might be like living in the big city.  We had a great time and the most wonderful stamp on a pretty good day was walking towards the subway station and seeing that a phenomenal character actress Margo Martindale was sitting enjoying a late night dinner or coffee.  With precious seconds ahead of me I told her how much I loved her work and how her vignette in “Paris Je’Taime” was easily my favorite.  The fact that she was so warm and appreciative in return only made me happier.  (I’ve made a fool of myself in those situations before).  As we neared the station I returned to a place I stumbled upon earlier in the day before walking towards the theater; a black stencil with a glass covering of an original “Banksy.”  It was in the shape of a kid with a hammer and it was aimed right at a real-life fire hydrant.  I had only heard of his work, so to see it up, close, and personal was really cool.  Earlier a guy who was taking pictures of the work said that he flew up from Florida to see it.  That was incredible in its own right.

A good day it was.  Days are never perfect, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still be good.