#sorry for the mentally ill ramblings the event broke me
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#okujougumi posting#thanking my rudimentary japanese skills for getting me through the event story reasonably well#i will always love how rui maintains a distance from mizuki bc he knows they need space#they just wait for whenever mizuki is ready to let their guard down#also that whole speech about i'll make a wish for mizukis heart to be protected and find true happiness i am microwaving your ass kamishiro#sorry for the mentally ill ramblings the event broke me#im a mizuki has 2 hands truther i just like talking about rooftop duo more#and if i think about the rest of the ebent too much my mental health may deteriorate further
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Long post stupid ramblings about my own grief sorry idk how to add a read more.
Tw: brief mentions of suicide, self harm, mental illness, sexual trauma and substance abuse (woah holy shit that’s a lot)
…..
Mornings are really rough for me, the passage of time itself scares me in a way I can’t always put into words. Every morning I wake up and it feels like the morning after something sad and painful just happened. Because of my ptsd I have reoccurring nightmares, and in these dreams I relive some of the most painful things I’ve gone through. Sometimes it’s the night I was attacked and chased into a closet, sometimes it’s my 18th birthday when I no longer could stomach anyone else seeing my body, sometimes it’s the morning after I was discharged from the hospital after failing to take my life again, and sometimes it’s the morning after I’ve lost someone I loved, either because they died; or because they hated the person I was becoming.I don’t know how long ago these events in my life really happened.
Even events with solid dates, feel like they were yesterday. When I was younger I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming. So alone in my grief all I could do is curl up in a little ball. As I got older I found it was easier to sleep if I took whatever I could get my hands on. And I got my hands on harder stuff after I became disabled. This period in my life feels like static. I was happy I think, but my brain didn’t process anything at all. Like I was stuck in time where days didn’t have a beginning or end. Getting therapy was so difficult, I had to do everything myself, and with family who denied what happened to me, or blamed me for it.. it was hard.
I moved out, I got therapy, I got in an accident on my bike after a fight with some friends on my way home, I got swerved and I wasn’t wearing a helmet. I suffered head trauma for the 3rd time in my life and I got amnesia for the past two years. I didn’t know where I was, who my friends were, how to do my job. And I felt better. I felt relieved and happy to be able to start over. I would get flashes of fear, and pain, and sadness, but they felt like scenes in a movie I couldn’t remember the title to. I worked through these things with my therapist and I was finally able to get medication for my multitude of issues. I was so happy I cried.
Regular therapy and antidepressants and exercise and living away from people that hurt me helped me even out. Outwardly I “healed” from everything. I thank the car accident for lessening my burdains, even though it makes me feel like a stranger in my own home, in my own body. I finished up my 2 years of therapy and now I only go in for an evaluation of how I’m coming along. I can look normally for the most part, my hands have healed up that I can draw semi-regularly, and my addictions have subsided I don’t hurt myself anymore. I still get nightmares, but they will never really stop, I don’t wake up crying or anything.I’ve made peace with the things I’ve destroyed, and I’ve forgiven the people that broke me. But recovery is not a straight road. It’s going to get worse again, and I’ll have to be alone when it happens. Maybe that’s why I’m still scared of waking up every day… because I’m always bracing for something to happen to reset my progress and push me back 10 steps. I guess that’s the price I pay.
#hex.txt#the fact I’m putting this out here you just know I haven’t taken my meds /he#also sorry if this feels like trauma dumping#no one actually has to read this#but I wanted to type it all out without feeling like I was forcing anyone to comfort me
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29 for mazlek cause it sounds like such a hoe thing to say
This took longer than planned, probably because it’s longer than planned. Ive put it under a read more. I hope you like it anon.
If anyone is triggered by illness, Joe is unwell in this - not seriously though. But there is talk of vomiting so avoid it if that's triggering for you.
29. What do you mean you’re sick, you’re supposed to be my partner in crime.
Joe’s phone buzzed continuously on his bedside locker, the sound puncturing his temples like a drill.
His stomach rolled as he moved to lie on his side and attempted to reach his phone; memories of last night spent with his head in the toilet flooding back and causing him to flee from his bed for what felt like the millionth time in the last twelve hours.
As he re-emerged from his bathroom; making a mental note to buy more cleaning products, he heard keys rattling in his front door.
“Joe!” His best friends voice made his head hurt, even from downstairs.
Walking as slowly as possible so not to jostle his stomach, he peeped round his door and croaked “Up here.”
His voice was shot after last night, throat burning from throwing up so much.
“Rami” God he sounded pathetic,
“Can you bring me water.......please?”
“You okay?” Rami shouted; Joe heard the water run as he made his way back to bed before he keeled over. Closing his eyes he could distantly hear Rami moving around downstairs.
“Joe?” He peeped open one eye and saw Rami standing over him; beautifully dressed as always, concern etching his face.
“You look awful Joey.” He handed him the water. Joe sat up gingerly and took a few sips; immediately regretting it as his stomach cramped up.
“Sorry......I........” he dashed into the bathroom again, pushing past Rami on the way.
“You alright?........want me to come in?” Rami hovered by the bathroom door.
“No.....god no” Joe managed to get out. There was no way he wanted Rami of all people watching him throw up.
While Joe hugged the toilet, Rami eyed his sheets suspiciously; he could tell Joe had slept fitfully. The duvet was twisted and the bottom sheet had come off the corner of the mattress. By the time Joe emerged from the bathroom, Rami had fresh, clean sheets on his bed and had put the others in a pile by the door. He’d put them in the wash later.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Joe mumbled weakly, as he slipped between the fresh, cool sheets; sighing as he closed his eyes.
Rami’s hand pressed gently against his forehead, “You’re not burning up......do you think it’s something you ate?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling at a loose thread on Joe’s grey duvet.
“Dunno.......too sick to go today though.... I’m sorry.” Joe’s hand flapped around looking to squeeze Rami’s in his own.
“You can’t be sick. You’re my partner in crime. What would Snafu have to say about this?” Rami smiled, grabbing his hand and squeezing softly.
“Probably the same thing you just said” Joe replied weakly, he attempted a smile; which quickly turned into a grimace as his stomach cramped up again.
“I’m gonna call Jas and go get you some medicine.....be right back.” Rami’s patted his hand as Joe drifted off to sleep again.
Rami picked up the sheets by the door and headed downstairs.
He pushed his disappointment at Joe being ill aside as he put the washing machine on.
The reunion for The Pacific cast was an annual event and this year was the first time Rami and Joe could actually attend together, their busy schedules meaning only one or other of them had been able to show up previously. Rami walked past Joe’s navy suit, hanging up on a hook in the hall. He would have looked damn good in that, Rami thought as he made his way outside.
“Joe?” Rami squeezed Joe’s shoulder, attempting to rouse him, “I have some stuff you need to drink......don’t want you dehydrating.”
“Mmmmmmm” Joe rolled over, blinking blearily at Rami’s face.
“You need to go...you ll be late....”
“I think I should stay.....I’m worried about you.” Rami pushed Joe’s hair back from his forehead.
“I’m gross Rami.......you probably don’t wanna touch me.......and you’re going.....they’re expecting you.” Joe managed to push himself into a sitting position, sighing heavily at the effort.
“But what if you get worse?” Rami asked; hands on his hips.
“I ll call you....it’s only..what? A ten minute cab drive away?”
“What if you collapse or something?”
Joe took a tentative sip of his mug of rehydration salts, grimacing at the taste, “Then you’ll find me when you get back.”
“Joe that’s not funny.”
“Rami, I’m gonna be sleeping......please go have lunch and just give my apologies okay. I ll be fine.”
Rami huffed “Promise you won’t try and go downstairs or anything?”
“I promise......and thank you....for this ...........delicious concoction.” Joe lifted his mug in gratitude, wrinkling his nose.
“Right well if you’re sure?”
“I am”
Joe watched as Rami fussed with his blankets, making sure his phone and bottle of water was nearby, adding the tv remote control and a large bowl that that he pulled out from beside the bed.
“Just in case” he said as he placed it beside Joe on the duvet.
Joe felt a warm, comforting feeling spread over his chest, the crampy, sick feeling in his stomach eased somewhat by the butterflies now erupting in there. This had been happening a lot recently, Joe choosing to ignore it; but today that seemed a lot harder to do.
A few drinks in and talk turned to relationships; most of the guys were happily married, Rami being one of the only ones yet to settle down.
He checked his phone again as Martin rambled on about some house he was renovating; he couldn’t stop worrying about Joe and it seemed some of the others had noticed his detachment from the conversation.
“Rami” Ashton patted his arm, “You ok?”
Putting down his phone, Rami sighed and leant back in his chair, taking a long pull of his beer.
“Yeah......I’m worried about Joe....”
“He’s a big boy...I’m sure he’s fine.”
“You didn’t see him.....he’s really sick. Maybe I should go?” He raised his eyebrows at Ashton, “Do you think I should?”
Ashton smiled as Brendan rolled his eyes next to him.
“Jesus Christ” he drawled and Rami was whisked back to Australia and Bill Leyden saying the same thing to Snafu’s new nickname for Sledge.
“What?” Rami felt all eyes on him as the table quietened.
“You have some patience man” Brendan continued “12 years is it? Go get your man and quit sitting here worrying about him.”
“What?” Rami said again. He knew he was flushed red and he also knew that what Brendan has said was true.
He pushed back from the table and headed to the bar.
“He’s right y’know.” Martin joined him at the bar, Rami’s second whiskey doing little to calm his nerves. How in fuck did everyone know? Did Joe? Fuck.
“Yeah well it’s not that simple is it? He’s my best friend.” Rami stared at the brown liquid in his tumblr “I can’t risk ruining it.”
“So you happy to carry on pretending? Think of what you might have if you take that risk. Joe’s not an asshole.......he‘ll .....he’ll be good to you no matter what.” Martin clapped him on the back and headed to the bathroom.
He was right. Rami could have everything he’d ever wanted if he was just willing to risk everything he currently had. Knocking back his whiskey he cursed himself for coming and the boys confusing the hell out of him. He wished Joe was here.
“Rami!” Ashton shouted from their table near the bar, “Your phones ringing!”
“It’s lover boy!” Brendan yelled and Rami’s stomach plummeted. Joe said he’d only call him if he felt worse, he needed to leave.
Snatching his phone from Ashton he turned away from the table as he answered;
“Joey” the pet name slipping from his mouth unconsciously. He could hear Brendan snorting behind him and Martin and Ashton telling him to shut up.
“What’s......what’s wrong? Are you ok? I can come back now...”
“Rami.....stop” Joe sounded exhausted, “I just woke up and I have a weird rash on my chest.”
Rami’s felt sick. A range of horrendous ailments entering his head at Joe’s words.
“Is your neck sore?”
“What? No..... why?”
“Meningitis” Rami rambled on “I’m gonna call Jas. Please don’t get up Joey....please.....just wait.”
“Okay” Joe whispered, slightly concerned himself over the level of Rami’s worry.
Rami sat down heavily into his chair. The boys eyes all immediately focused on his pale face.
It was Brendan that unsurprisingly broke the silence, but speaking softly and somewhat uncharacteristically.
“Is he ok?”
Rami’s phone pinged on the table top, as a message came through. Joe had sent a picture of the rash on his chest - Send this to Jas. Might help. X
Ashton’s brow furrowed at the picture.
“Go see if he’s ok please.....I’m worried now.”
Rami nodded “Please can we do this again.... before next year?”
They all nodded, murmuring agreements and adding “with Joe as well.”
“Im gonna head off then…..Joe....he....yeah.” Rami trailed off.
Martin grabbed his wrist from across the table
“Tell him Rami.”
“But what if he doesn’t feel the same?”
“Oh I honestly don’t think that will be a problem” smiled Ashton.
Rami crept quietly up the staircase, not wanting to wake Joe from much needed sleep. His bedroom door was open and Rami could see Joe bundled under his duvet through the now dim light of the evening.
Jas has said he needed to be cooled down to get rid of the heat rash, so Rami tiptoed quietly to the bathroom; leaving another cup of rehydration salts on Joe’s bedside locker.
After wetting a washcloth with cool water, and wringing it out, Rami padded over to Joe kneeling down next to the bed and peeling back the covers.
Rami’s stomach flipped at the sight of Joe sleeping, soft and peaceful. When had this started? When had things changed? Rami wracked his memory. Could you fall in love with someone over the space of 12 years and not realise? He stared at Joe’s sleeping face; he was so handsome, and Rami was taken aback by just how attracted to him he was. Rami smiled to himself, maybe he should take a chance? Joe was everything to him, and Rami was now realising he wanted him to be even more.
“Stop staring at me” Joe’s croaky voice startled Rami into action.
“Sorry.....I.....Jas said you need to cool down...you have a rash cos you’re sweaty. Here.” Rami showed him the folded wash cloth and Joe turned onto his back.
Joe shivered as Rami pulled down the duvet off Joe’s heated chest and placed the washcloth on his forehead.
“Okay?.......there’s more salts for you to take there...” Rami pointed to the bedside locker.
“Oooh yum...” Joe said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and grinning at Rami.
“How you feeling?”
“Groggy....but my stomach isn’t crampy now....so hopefully I can actually sleep tonight.” Joe peered at Rami from under the washcloth.
“Will you stay?........I hate to ask.....but....but..”
“Joe......you don’t have to ask....of course I will....”
“Thank you.....oh! how was lunch?”
Rami sat up against the headboard in Joe’s huge bed and filled him in on all the news from their cast mates, answering Joe’s questions but leaving out one very specific conversation.
“They all send their love....hope you feel better soon.”
“Ashton text me actually....” Joe turned on his side “Said you left early.”
Rami couldn’t look at Joe, he felt his pulse race as he stared out the window at the darkening sky.
“Rami......” Joe’s hand found his and he squeezed gently.
“You’ve always been so good to me...........too good to me......I.......I......thank you.” Joe sat up. He grimaced as his head pounded at the change of position, but crossed his legs and sat facing Rami.
“Joe.....lie down...”
“Why did you come back early?”
Rami searched Joe’s face for any sign that he was messing around. He knew Joe well enough by now to recognise a lift on one side of his mouth that always gave him away. It wasn’t there, his face was soft, open, and as gorgeous as Rami has ever seen it; even with his sickly pallor and bed head.
“I think you know why” Rami murmured.
“I think I know too......but I’ve been really wrong about things like this in the past so......”
Rami winced, Joe had never had much luck dating. Rami had always been there to pick up the pieces with him.
“Joe” Rami wanted, he wanted so badly to pull Joe into his lap.
“You have no idea how much I wanna kiss you right now.”
Joe grinned, his whole face lighting up as Rami ran his hand up his arm; leaving goosebumps in his wake.
“Give me 12 hours and I’m all yours” he murmured as he pulled Rami into a hug.
“Thank you for today......but.....can you sleep in the spare room because I honestly don’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off you if you’re......in here......”
Joe pulled reluctantly away from Rami’s arms, realisation dawning on what he’d just said.
“Uuuh I mean.....I don’t wanna make you sick” he stared at the sheets below him, flexing his long toes.
Joe woke early the next morning , the rain pounding against his window. Stretching, he assessed himself for any stomach or headache and found that he felt much better, not one hundred percent. But better.
Running his hands over his face as he yawned, he sat bolt upright in bed as he remembered who was currently in his spare room and the conversation they’d had. His body moved without him thinking as he headed to the shower and to brush his teeth.
As the hot water pounded against his back, he let himself imagine what might possibly happen today. He’d always loved Rami; but had made himself believe they were just really close friends. He never really thought Rami felt the same though, and Joe wasn’t gonna jeopardise their incredible friendship by telling Rami how he felt.
Turns out most of their cast mates on The Pacific could see it a mile away. They were both idiots really; all the heartache they could have saved each other. Although Joe laughed to himself as he remembered that anytime either of them had split with someone, they’d immediately gone to each other for comfort.
It had been obvious to everyone, except them.
Joe knocked quietly on the door to the spare room; it was early and Rami liked to lie in at the weekend, but when Joe pushed open the door he found Rami standing at the window in his boxers. His mouth immediately went dry.
“Uuuuhhmmmm morning...” Joe croaked.
Rami grinned. “You feeling better?” He asked as Joe moved into the room. His bare toes dug into the soft grey carpet, as his heart beat erratically in his chest.
“Yeah....I am....”
“Thank God” Rami interrupted him as he made his way over to Joe and took his hands in his own.
“I’ve waited twelve years to do this......I can’t wait any longer.”
“Rami...” Joe whispered as their lips met and they finally fell into each other.
“Breakfast?…..you feel like you could eat something?” Rami couldn’t stop touching Joe; any part of his body, it was like he’d been starved of it. His fingers were currently skimming the waistband of Joe’s sweatpants where they hung low on his hips.
Joe’s head was pillowed on Rami’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“I could eat you?” Joe smiled into Rami’s bare chest, breathing in his scent and nibbling at his nipple.
“Hey!” Rami pushed him away, then pulled his face to his, both hands on his cheeks.
“I want .........god I want you so bad” he pushed his hardening cock against Joe’s thigh, shivering at Joe’s answering moan.
“But when you have your strength back......Jas said....”
“Wait....you asked your sister when we could have sex?” Joe began to laugh “Oh my god......”
“No! Joe c’mon.....you know what I mean......” Rami pushed his erection against Joe again,
whispering in his ear “Just think about how good it will be.....”
Joe flopped onto his back groaning, “I’m gonna need another shower” he added as he pressed down on the bulge in his sweatpants.
Joe didn’t ever think he’d been this sexually frustrated in his life. He’d had a semi all day, Rami only had to look at him and he wanted to bend him over the back of the couch. It was like his cock had now been given permission to react to Rami. They’d spent all their spare time together the last few years, and he’d never had this problem. His cock was like a dog being finally let off a leash.
Rami sat in his boxers and a t-shirt, Joe’s head in his lap as they watched a cooking show. Joe was snoring softly, his warm breath tickling Rami’s thighs. He ran his fingers through Joe’s soft hair, smiling at what today had brought.
Pulling out his phone he snapped a pic of his hand resting in Joe’s hair as he slept soundly on his lap.
He sent it to Joe’s phone with the caption:
“I’ve always loved you.”
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Why is Syo your favorite person from utapri?
so before i ramble lets make a cut cos ure in for a ride
long story short, i started SL since day 1 with only 1 purpose
apparently despite me loving this guy and tier 1-ing his event, he never loved me back because during that whole time i only pulled gacha banners with reiji in it and i only got him like a few times (say hes SR id only get him after 900prisms at LEAST) and needless to say i never got any of his gacha URs
worst case was force live reiji which i prolly spent over 2k prisms and he came home AFTER the stupid card got added into the permanent pool.
oddly enough during this time i found syo’s talking voice rly hot but it kinda felt like a guilty pleasure cos i didnt want to betray reiji, also i dont wanna go to jail but big jaguar syo is really cute.
i went on hiatus after a year of playing SL cos i mentally broke from reiji not coming home, i also had some falling out with utapri friends over best boys and whatever at that time too (couldnt bear to see them on my SL friend list when i go online) i still came back to the game every now and then for anniversary stuff /free pulls/ certain events and reiji didnt come home during anniversary obviously
but u know who came home though? syo. (except 3rd anni but we dont talk about that) i felt that he was there to support me this whole time its just that i never noticed it
time skip to 2 years later which is now, i realised im probably a closeted shimono/ syo fan this whole time so i came back to SL with a different mindset hoping ill stay in this game longer this time
if youre solely asking for character then fair warning because whatever i say next cant fully convey what i feel about syo exactly since i suck at words.
i definitely like syo because shimono voices him but honestly syo is such a warm character, hes been through so much and is still a pretty genki (energetic) boy, i rewatched his specific moments in utapri and i just.. admire his strength, you feel? man’s mentally tougher than ill ever be and i realy... have no words other than i admire that quality of his.
i love the tone shimono uses when syo’s being gentle (to haruka or anyone alike) it contrasts with his usual screaming and what not (its kinda similar to how i feel about Kimetsu no Yaiba’s zenitsu but less extreme.
i love his character design, he looks so good! I would choose him in otome routes without knowing the seiyuu behind it, its aesthetically pleasing for me to look at him, ever since i started SL. (Yeah that’s cos hes a fashion icon, Snek.) in my defense i have shit taste in fashion so that doesnt mean anything to me but yeah i do kinda love how he dresses and ignores the stereotypical masculine traits with his skirts and nail polish
while i didnt particularly like his singing at first, his future songs other than oresama rondo were pretty good (even before i got into liking shimono, cosmic runner/Chging our song and otokogi zenkai go fight rly slaps) and i tried giving his singing another chance and now i think even oresama rondo is pretty good as well ww, shimono san has worked so hard im so proud of him..
so yeah i love his looks his personality his voice p much the full package(? as for reiji, im sure there are other fans that will take better care of him than i ever will, since he never found his way home (i probably still like him though, hes just not #1 anymore i think)
sorry for the essay www hope i answered ur question, if i didnt then well, guess u have to send another ask :p
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So Fila’s actual past isn’t very detailed, because she’s not a main OC, and I haven’t spent a ton of time actually thinking about her as a character lol. 98% of my Creativity goes to my original content characters, cuz someday when I finish actually crafting my worlds, I’m gonna write a book. I’m aiming for the lofty goals of making a full, fleshed out, intricate— just fuckin’... a whole ass Multiverse system comparable to the Lore content of Tolkien’s works, or The Elder Scrolls— gah fuck y’know what, I’m changing this post from being about my Fantasy Life OC to being about my creation baby, the effort of about 6 years (I am 20 years old, and although I didn’t know it at the time I started, I was 14 when I made the shitty Fire Emblem Manakete rip-off race that I’m gonna actually now talk about, because holy fuck this ain’t gonna fit in a parenthesis “btw have some info” bubble)
A’ight so I have a hard time keeping track of time, especially in a large scale across years. Apparently it’s related to being severely depressed without medication (communication error on my part, my parents are very lovely and helped me ASAP when I spilled the beans) while also having moderate to severe ADD. So, ya know, keep in mind that I was yet another terribly depressed 8th grader when I talk about my creation’s early days. I wouldn’t experience that time of my life for any sort of payment ever. It was goddamn miserable, because when I was midway through the age of 14, not only did the aforementioned depression spring up, but I also realized I was bisexual (And I live in the infamous state of Alabama, for reference. Don’t fear for me though, I was too unnoticeable to be bullied if anyone did know, and my wonderful mother, whom I love and cherish with all of my heart, is one of the few Christians that actually... like... do what their own God tells em to. That is, Jesus. I’m an atheist and have a general discomfort about the idea of super powerful entities actually existing irl, but I do agree with the stuff I’ve heard and remember from a decade ago in Church about Jesus. Good guy. But yeah my mom not only accepted me and reassured me when I came out, but she’s gone even further and is of the opinion/fact that lgbt folks are, really, good and normal and that God created them, so she really genuinely just... loves and accepts me. There’s no “I love you despite of this” in the equation and I am so grateful. But again. I digress)
Pause after that sidetrack, to recap, all of my medical issues began to emerge about 6 months before I turned 15. Including what I hate most, the emergence of my Fibromyalgia and Sjogren’s Syndrome, and for an added kick to the flesh, an undifferentiated connective tissue disorder. Meaning, as what I understand it to be, a nameless chimaera of many symptoms in a way that the disorder either is it’s own thing, or just can’t easily be recognized as any one disorder. And I had anxiety. If I recall correctly on *that*, forgive me cuz it’s been a while since it’s been diagnosed/brought up in a significant way, I have or had either general anxiety *and* social anxiety, or just lightweight versions of both, or something, but at the time I was horribly shy and I couldn’t even talk to the teacher after class about schoolwork, even though I tried rationalizing it to hell and back that I shouldn’t be scared— as you’ll guess, shit didn’t work out til I got medicine for it, because no amount of logic and rational thought will change the fact that I was struggling because of a literal disorder, an error of the brain, and as with that walking with two shattered femurs ain’t gonna work, trying to talk when the talk machine broke... ain’t going to goddamn work.
God. I am rambling a lot. But anyway, shit fucking sucked as a teen for me, because I got that wombo combo, prepare for trouble, make it double, precision strike at my existence as a person during fucking already difficult puberty— I am rambling. It’s 4:55am as of this sentence lmao. I had a nasty cocktail of both mental illness and physical disorders pop up once puberty hit me, so I, through many events starting from loving to draw as a toddler, to play pretend stories of heartbreak, betrayal, and death as best an 8 year old could understand via playing with Polly Pockets, and all the creative power I inherited from my Dad, plus the motivation borne through a need to escape, I started making my own characters.
So, to return to the present state of my creations, which will now be referred to as Bounding Beyond the Stars, or BBtS, I’m gonna get some things out of the way. Just to clarify, yeah? I have created my worlds in a way that is specifically meant to stand apart from the irl universe as we know it. I’m certainly not a knowledgeable researcher with any level of comprehension on Spacial law and quantum physics and shit like that. So hey, if something ever seems... like, off, or wrong? Unless it’s pretty obviously wrong in the “hey you just googled how a thing works, and misunderstood it, and made a detail based on a failure to understand stuff and that’s dumb in a catastrophic way that even a high school level viewer would notice...” kind of mistake, then hey, shoot me a message. But if some sort of universal rule seems fucky in the way that it doesn’t make sense, but isn’t a catastrophic structural error... well, Imma use that sentence to start a better one. For an example of a catastrophic error, perhaps... this: “This planet has no seasons cuz of its shape and axis! And it is also like twice as big as Earth!” That would be catastrophic alone because anyone with a grasp on planetary gravity or something, may go and think “if it’s that big, gravity’s gonna be way more intense”. And you’d be right! Which is why I usually account for those things with... *Magic*.
Before I split this post for Length reasons, and I’m sorry the majority of this was me rambling about how my general experience with life sucked from ages 14-17, I’mma state something very important about all my creations.
Magic, which will be explained in depth at a later point, is a fundamental, essential, and omnipresent force of not just any one universe in my Multiversal Trio. It is a key piece of Reality itself, as magic is the flow of many multiples of millions of unique and mysterious energies, concepts, and laws existing anywhere that Is.
To end this post, I’m going to put a quick summary and explanation why I’m rambling about any of this: The rant about my age and circumstances at the start are relevant because it’s necessary context for the tone and type of writing my creations are built upon. The foundations of BBtS are borne from a sometimes angsty, sometimes genuinely upset 14 year old who found escape in the art of Creation. There have been many, many, many heavy edits, rewrites, scrapped info and ideas, and even more info built upon it. It used to be pretty pointlessly edgy in a lot of ways, and redundant in grimdark, morphing into *grimderp* plot devices and character traits. The way it’s written today, I like to think the lore of my many high fantasy-alien societies, and all its denizens and creators and whatever else, are still written to be dark, be dangerous, even angsty... but more skillfully so, with the sort of nuance a 14 year old wouldn’t really even begin to understand. Cuz I still like high stakes stories with real consequences and character deaths when appropriate. And I enjoy characters who have tragic pasts, but now that I’m older and I’ve seen and read about and done so much more— I can write that stuff *better*. And more over, what I’m most satisfied with, is that I’m more in touch with myself as a person, and I’ve evolved many of my personal beliefs and ideals and all the things of the world I can have opinions on. But most of all, I’ve reached a point where I have consumed enough content from others to where I have figured out how to write something that should be interesting, and maybe a bit new, because I put a looot of Damn focus on identifying, and understanding, writing structure, cliches, plot holes to avoid, character traits to handle differently, and just generally making something that’ll appeal to both me, and my audience, should I get that far.
#original content#ramble#long ramble#worldbuilding#personal history#long post#fantasy#sci-fi#science fiction#it’s currently 5:24am as i think of appropriate tags lol#sleep deprived#late night/early morning thoughts
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Sweet Dreams Chapter Three
Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.
Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.
What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?
Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn
Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC
Word Count: 8.4k
Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok
Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol
A/N: Hey guys! Here we go again haha. I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I’ve been a little bit absent online these days just because I’ve gotten pretty busy with my classes, but I hope you guys are all doing well! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!
And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!
- Mercury
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Masterlist
Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)
Eunbyul
“How was therapy?” asked Gaeul as I wandered out into the living room. She held in one slender, tan hand a dry paintbrush, staring with crossed arms at the mural outside my bedroom wall.
She hadn’t seen me home since I left the day before, too busy at work. When I’d arrived home, I’d gone straight to my room anyway and lie on my stomach for as many hours as it took to fall asleep.
“Tell me how you’ve been,” said Doctor Kim the day before, lacing his fingers and resting his stubbled chin atop them.
He was a tall, slender man with a hairline receding into grey and dark brown eyes bespectacled with thin silver frames. Those were the eyes that saw through me, no matter what, since I was eight. We were sitting opposite one another: him with crossed legs on his leather recliner and me on the plush sofa, knees against my chest.
I cleared my throat and glanced out the window beside me, at the swaying trees and the buildings that eclipsed the horizon line. I hadn't been in the city since moving in with Gaeul, not willing to brave the long train ride. But that morning I’d awoken bright and early, making my way to the city bus so I could get to the train station in time.
“I bumped into an old lady this morning,” I said, thinking aloud.
He chuckled, but stopped when I turned wide eyes toward him. “Hm,” he said, more thoughtfully than before as he consulted the clipboard he always held on his lap.
I’d stolen glances at it a few times over the years, but his handwriting was illegible chicken scratch to me. Was that some sort of rule for doctors or something?
“I felt bad, but I felt like the bus driver was waiting for me to move, so I kept going. But I’m still thinking about it,” I said with a nod, letting my eyes wander around his bright, third-story office.
“Why is that, do you think?”
“Because she got off and I never got the chance to say sorry.”
“You wanted to apologize, didn’t you?” he asked, eyeing me over his glasses. “But you didn’t want to inconvenience the bus driver.”
“I guess,” I said, picking at the skin around my nails. I sighed. “I’ve been having a weird feeling these days.”
He cocked a furry brow. “What sort of feeling?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I folded and unfolded my hands. “Like when you’re at the top of a really high place. Like there’s no railing.”
He hummed. “Does that have to do with your move?”
“Maybe,” I said softly as I lowered my legs to sit criss-cross. “But it doesn’t feel like that’s the reason. It feels like something more. Makes me feel really…uneasy. Unfulfilled.”
“Maybe you need to think on it a little more then,” he said with a clinical nod.
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Ah…yeah, maybe.”
He nodded. “And your family? They’re doing well?”
I smiled a little. “I’m seeing Mom today. Dad’s working, but he’s gonna come out for dinner, so…”
“Good!” he said, tapping his pen against the arm of his chair. “And friends? Have you made any yet?”
An image of that potter flashed through my mind. Capable hands at the wheel. Cherubic smile. Park Jimin.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, no. Not really,” I began, then sighed. “But I have a few places where I’m starting to feel comfortable. A bookstore and…maybe this pottery shop.”
“That’s great,” he said with a smile. “It sounds like this move was exactly what you needed.”
My heart leapt. Was that it after all? That feeling of wobbling on the precipice? I swallowed hard and gave Doctor Kim a smile. “Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I feel…a little bit freer there.”
“Like you got some distance?”
“Mhm.”
“And coming back? Has that made you feel any anxiety?”
I recalled the morning with that woman, how I was already on edge about coming back, about braving the streets of this city once more after finally leaving it behind. But now, sitting in Doctor Kim’s bright white, sterile office… “I feel…okay,” I said with a small nod.
His eyes lit up by a small measure and he smiled, just a little. “Really?”
I nodded. “I’m as shocked as you are.”
He chuckled. “Well…that’s great news,” he said with a nod. “Really great.”
I sighed and patted my knees. “I still feel really bad about that old woman.” I rubbed my forehead with a cringe as I remembered the events at Hyejin’s Books. “I also broke a flowerpot at the bookstore I like.”
He raised his brows. “Oh dear.”
“It caused a scene,” I said, shaking my head. “Everyone was looking at me and the worker said the pot was expensive and…” I paused my quick rambling and took a steadying breath.
“Remember, that was just one event. That’s not gonna happen every time to go back,” he said with a careful nod. “I know it might be hard, but I hope you go back to the store sometime soon. Sometimes we make things bigger than they are in our heads, you know? But you need to have places that make you feel safe.”
I raised my brows. “Oh…uh, I already went back. The day after it happened.”
“Really?” he asked, smiling again.
I nodded. “I replaced the pot.”
“You did!”
“Yeah.”
He gave me a full grin and nodded, eager. “That’s great to hear!”
I smiled a little. I guess that was a step forward, huh? “Yeah…”
“So,” he said, fixing me with a soft, knowing look. He leaned forward just a little. “Tell me about this bookstore.”
Gaeul eyed me expectantly, her attention assuaged from her previous staring match with the wall. Her long hair was restrained in a sloppy ponytail at the nape of her neck and her eyes, downward turning and too similar to mine to look at too long, were narrowed on me.
She raised her brows, paintbrush trapped between two fingers. “Byul?”
I smiled and nodded. “It was good.”
“And Mom and Dad?” she asked, still watching me as I sauntered toward the kitchen.
I yawned, giving my lower back a scratch. “They’re good.”
“And you?” she asked, scanning me from top to bottom. “Looks like you didn’t sleep much.”
I shrugged and poured a cup of coffee from the pot she left on the counter. “Woke up at four again and forced myself back asleep, but I’m still tired.”
She clicked her tongue and waved her brush at me. “Ask Doctor Kim to prescribe you with some sleeping pills or something!” she called, turning back to the mural with pursed lips. “What good is a therapist if he can’t give you pills,” she said under her breath.
I sighed, resting a hip against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room. “You know I don’t wanna medicate.” She mumbled something unintelligible and continued stewing over her piece. “You working on the mural again?” I asked.
She sighed. “Trying,” she said. “But Bob Ross works really fast…”
“Maybe you’re just a shitty artist,” I teased with a smirk.
She turned to me with her tongue stuck out and rolled her eyes. “Says you.”
“I’m gonna go to the bookstore,” I said, stretching my arms above my head as I sauntered barefoot toward my bedroom once more.
She watched me and popped her hip to the side. “Try finding a job while you’re at it.”
I meant to go to Hyejin’s.
Really, I did.
But somehow I found myself perched at the window of Park’s Pottery, my hands forming a shelf for my chin to rest upon as I watched Jimin work at the throwing table. It was mesmerizing, the subtle motion of his thumbs against the wet clay, the gentle sliding of his palms. I only intended to take a small look. It was still early anyway, and I figured he wouldn’t be open anyway. But it had been several minutes and still there I was, peering inside an open shop window on a busy street, eyes trained on the clay.
“You coming in?” he asked, and I jumped, nearly screamed. I saw a smirk on his lips from his profile as his eyes remained pinned to his work. “Or are you just gonna watch from the window?”
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. I prepared to leave, turning on my heel and never looking back, but Doctor Kim’s words returned to me. Sometimes we make things bigger than they are in our heads, he’d said. But you need to have places that make you feel safe.
So I lingered there in the window, biting the inside of my cheek as I wavered between inside and outside. Likely sensing my indecision, Jimin turned around and raised his brows at me as the wheel slowed down. I clamped my mouth shut and let my head drop. Quickly, I shuffled to the front door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me with a click.
He chuckled and turned his music down just slightly, returning his attention to the clay bowl he was turning. Without a word, he continued his work and I slowly inched toward that lit corner of the shop, careful not to let the toes of my shoes catch on the rugs underfoot.
“Extra stool over there,” he said, sticking out his tongue and furrowing his brow as he focused. He jerked his chin toward the side of the display racks.
I grabbed the wooden stool and set it down on the side of the table, too close now to look anywhere else. “Is it slimy?” I asked, unable to contain myself as he reached his nimble fingers into a bowl of water and clay.
He chuckled. “It’s called slip for a reason,” he said with a soft smile, cheeks rosy from concentration.
“What’s it do?” I asked.
“Helps you form it.”
“What kind of clay is this?”
He laughed, loudly this time as he tipped his head back. He finally met my eyes, though his were half-closed from smiling. “I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”
I stiffened and glanced away, laying my hands flat on my lap and clearing my throat. “Sorry.”
He chuckled and again focused on his clay. “It’s china clay,” he said softly, eyes tender as they scanned his work. “Used for porcelain.”
“And you’re making a bowl?” I asked, watching him.
The small circle of off-white clay, no more than a few inches tall, seemed pliable beneath the weight of his fingers, like it could be anything he wanted it to be with the right pressure. He was laboring over the rim, pinching it between two fingers as he widened the opening.
“Mhm.”
“Are you gonna paint it?”
“Yeah, later.”
“How long does it take to-,”
“Eunbyul, right?” he asked, turning only his eyes up to meet mine. He was still smiling.
I nodded. “Mhm.”
“If you’re gonna watch me, you’ve gotta hold back a little on the questions,” he said with a nod. “I can answer them all when I’m not working.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, recoiling like a scolded child. I took to just watching him silently, but it seemed from the way he began glancing at me out the corner of his eye that that was also going to be a problem. He coughed a little, brows knit as he struggled to refocus on the clay. But I leaned in for a closer look, eyes wide as I watched him mold the base of the bowl beneath his fingertips.
Suddenly, the wheel slowed to a stop and Jimin was looking at me with soft eyes and messy hands. “Alright, I can’t focus with you watching like that.”
My eyes went wide. “Sorry! I didn’t realize,” I said, waving my hands as if I was surrendering.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Just…you’re a little intense,” he said with a gentle smile.
I flushed and turned away, picking at the skin around my thumb. “Sorry.”
Again, he laughed. “How about this,” he suggested, turning to me properly and leaning on his spread knees. “You reorganize my pottery rack and I’ll keep working. Once I’m done with five bowls, I’ll come get you and we can fire the ones I made yesterday.”
My heart raced and I sat up straight, nodding vehemently. “Sure! I can totally do that,” I said.
He smiled. “And you can still watch, just…not so closely,” he said with a laugh. “Feels like my dad’s watching.”
I nodded and rushed to my feet, wandering over to the racks as Jimin fired up the wheel once more and began smoothing a sponge over the inside of the bowl. I inhaled quick, preparing to ask what that was, but stopped and instead focused on the disorganized array of pottery splayed out on the countless shelves.
“Messy, huh?” asked Jimin from the wheel.
I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of his bowl through the spaces in the rack that separated us. He had finished the first bowl and set it aside on a table on his right. It looked perfect.
I pushed the stray hairs that had fallen behind my ear with a sigh. Cutting off all that hair made it harder to restrain it. “Not as bad as my room,” I said with a hum as I began organizing a few haphazardly places flowerpots.
He laughed. “You’re messy? Don’t strike me as the messy type.”
I shook my head. “I…I’m not really. Not at home anyway. I actually just moved here a few weeks ago so…”
“Ah,” he said softly as the lofi music bumped around the shop. “Why’d you move?”
“My sister lives here and I figured I needed…a change of scenery,” I said with a nod. How was I supposed to tell a stranger about all the events that led me to running off?
“You like it?” he asked.
I smiled a little as I grabbed for a misplaced cup, setting it on the shelf above with the others. “I’m starting to.”
He chuckled and with that, conversation quieted to nothing as he formed art and I put it in its proper home.
After a while with only lofi and the whirring of the potter’s wheel for noise, Jimin punctured the peaceful quiet with a loud, “Done!” and a long, loud exhale.
I jumped and rushed out of the racks to see Jimin sitting with a satisfied grin, leaning back against the wall, a set of five identical, unblemished white bowls to his side. His eyes were shut as he sighed heavily, apron and face and hands a mess with clay in various stages of dryness.
“You did it!” I exclaimed with a grin. I clapped my hands and he joined me. “Was it hard?”
He smiled and walked toward the sink across from the wheel, running his hands under the water. “Not so bad today,” he said, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I needed to get done before nine-thirty so I had time to fire the other ones before opening.” He glanced at me with a conspiratorial smirk. “You ready to see it?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I said, serious as he scanned me.
But he broke the tension with a laugh and shook the water from his hands, turning toward the back door as I trailed eagerly behind. He led the way into the backroom where I stood astounded in the doorway for a few thoughtless moments. Bigger than the store itself, the backroom featured stairs that likely led upstairs to an apartment, several massive kilns, two separate spinning wheels, and a full studio of paintbrushes, dyes, and other decorating materials. It was grand, spacious, windowed with plenty of natural light, practically overflowing with unfinished pottery, and dead hot.
“Cool, right?” he asked with a grin.
I nodded, mouth agape, and followed him through the maze of benches and workspaces to one of the kilns in the back. There sat five dried bowls on a table beside the kiln, off-white and slightly dusty.
“I just sanded these this morning, so they’re ready for the bisque firing.”
“Bisque?” I asked, squinting at the clay as my glasses slipped down my nose a little from the heat. “Like soup?”
“No…it’s the initial firing so that the it becomes more durable and-,”
“Jimin,” I interrupted and he paused, eyes round. “I was joking that time.”
He opened and shut his mouth before eventually settling for a big laugh and a pat on my shoulder, like an uncle. “Funny,” he said, then rested his palms against the kiln. “Anyway, do you wanna do it with me?”
I blinked at him. “You sure you can trust me with that?”
He laughed. “I trusted you with my wares out there, I’m pretty sure I can trust you with this.”
I hummed, mulling it over, and eventually just offered a nod and timidly took the space beside him, nearest the pottery. “What do you want me to do?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
He smiled. “Dust them off and hand them to me so I can put them in the kiln,” he said with a nod. Then stiffened and looked down at me with wide eyes. “Carefully!” he added.
I chuckled and nodded, grabbing one of the bowls and dusting it off with the rag that lay beside it. “You’re really talented,” I said quietly as I worked on removing the dust.
Jimin smiled gently. “I was taught by a master anyway.”
“Your dad?”
“Mhm,” he said. “At a time in my life when I felt really…out of touch, he helped me understand that there are things even I can control in this world. Things that I can shape and change with my own hands.”
I felt my stomach flip and my heart kicked up. Something I can control… “Ah,” I said, realizing my hands had stopped moving. “Here.” I handed him the first bowl and he smiled in response. “You went through a time like that?” I asked, voice small.
He hummed a little. “Yeah. Everyone does, I think. Where you feel like you’re just being dragged along through life without any say.”
I blinked at him as he delicately placed the bowl in the kiln, still smiling. “And pottery helped you get out of it?”
“Well…to a certain extent. It taught me valuable lessons. Like…the fact that nothing’s permanent. If I don’t like a design while I’m throwing it, I can just stop and change it. Made me realize I’ve got more power than I think I do,” he said, pensive, as I began dusting the next bowl.
“That sounds wonderful,” I said with a sigh as I handed him the bowl.
He paused for a moment, staring down at me with a furrowed brow. “You say sad things sometimes,” he said with a nod.
I stiffened. “S-Sorry…”
He shook his head and placed the bowl beside its sister. “No, don’t be,” he said, leaning over the lip of the kiln. “Just…you remind me of myself a little.”
“Really?” I asked, and I couldn’t stop the swelling of pride that rushed through me. To be compared to someone like him…
He returned from the kiln with a smile. “Mhm,” he said, then jerked his chin toward the bowls. “Keep ‘em coming.”
“Ah,” said Jimin once the bowls were settled and the kiln was firing up, wiping his brow a little and glancing my way.
“So what now? How long until they’re done?” I asked, eager as I peered down at the round top of the kiln, still cool to the touch.
Jimin chuckled, patting dust from his hands onto his smock. “A few more days, unfortunately.”
My eyes went round. “Wait, so that’s not the end?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head and leading me out toward the main storefront. “The bisque firing is only the first round. Then they’re decorated and glazed and put back in.”
My shoulders fell as we entered the store. “For real?” I asked, dejected.
He grinned. “Well, if you-,” his thought was cut short by the ding of the front door bell.
A throng of people entered, all grinning as they began to peruse his wares. “Sorry, we were waiting for you to open since it’s five after,” said a woman, likely in her forties, with a tight-lipped smile.
I furrowed my brow. “Sorry, I was firing,” said Jimin with a pleasant grin, like the woman’s comment hadn’t made a single dent in his mood.
She bowed her head a little as she ducked into the racks and I glanced up at Jimin with a frown. “Kinda rude,” he whispered to me with a chuckle. “Business is business anyway.” He wandered toward the front door where he gently flipped over the sign, declaring Park’s Pottery open for business.
“You know her?” I asked, following closely behind as he walked back to the register and untied his smock, slinging it over the side of the counter. I stood beside him.
“Yeah. I get a lot of rich regulars who like to buy statement pieces,” he said with an easy shrug. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
I nodded. Even though I understood, something about the entitled attitude left a bitter taste on my tongue. I crossed my arms and watched as the woman turned a pastel blue vase over in her hands, showing it to one of the people who had stormed in with her. The group spent a few minutes wandering about as Jimin and I watched from the register, Jimin smiling and me squinting through the haze of my lenses to see the woman properly.
“You’re gonna scare her away,” whispered Jimin out the corner of his mouth.
I flushed and sat up straight, letting my eyes wander away, towards the front door and the open window. The city and the ocean just beyond. I sighed, arms still crossed, as someone called out from the stacks.
“I have a question!”
Jimin jumped a little before pasting on a bright smile and rushing toward the customer, leaving me to stew by myself at the register. Sighing, I leaned back against the counter behind me, shutting my eyes for a moment. Gaeul was right, anyway. I hadn’t been getting enough sleep the last few days. And, what’s more, I couldn’t remember my dreams. Normally, with the sort of dreams I had, it was impossible to forget them. Especially the bad one. The black room one.
I shook my head and rubbed my temples. If I didn’t remember my dreams, it was probably for the best. And besides, that meant I wasn’t having nightmares anyway.
“Excuse me?”
I opened my eyes and they locked onto that woman, the customer from before. With her dark hair restrained with a stylish pin, she eyes me with a stiff grin, eyebrows high as she held the blue vase on her hip like a child. I glanced around me, hoping perhaps she was talking to somebody else, but she was just…standing there on the other side of the counter. Watching me with pencil-thin brows knitting in concern.
“Did you not hear me, dear?” she asked, saccharine.
I wetted my lips and cleared my throat. “Um, yeah. Sorry,” I said, taking two steps toward her.
“I was hoping you’d ring me up. Seems Little Mister Park is a little busy,” she said with a chuckle.
I glanced over her shoulder to find Jimin talking, all animated hand motions and bright expressions, to two customers in the aisle between the racks, gesturing toward his pottery every few moments.
“Ah…,” I began. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. I sighed and nodded once. I’d worked at a grocery store in high school anyway. I knew how to work a simple cash register. I could do at least that much. “Sure,” I said, opening my hands to take the vase.
She handed it over with a little hesitance, and watched with a wince as I set it down on the counter beside the register. I turned it over to find the price tag, handwritten by Jimin himself, stuck to the bottom. $20. I frowned at the beautiful thing. Long, slender neck good for holding flowers. A subtle gradient that lightened at the spout. Careful, delicate decorations in white at the bottom.
$20?
“Thirty,” I said with a nod, handing it back to her and punching in the amount on the register’s well-worn number pad.
She blinked at me, eyes wide. “I…it’s twenty, dear.”
I raised my eyes to meet hers and cocked a brow. “It’s thirty.”
She furrowed her brows and touched the gold necklace on her clavicle. “Gosh, I think that’s a little pricey,” she said with a pout. “It says twenty on the bottom.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but this is a one-of-a-kind vase. Like a collector’s item,” I said, then hummed and grabbed the vase, holding it against my side. “It’s okay if you wanna browse some more for something cheaper,” I said, raising my brows and staring at her without breaking.
She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I…well, I guess I can afford it,” she said with a laugh. “Go ahead with the transaction, dear.”
I nodded and slid the vase back toward her as Jimin returned to the register, eyes wide as he watched me taking the woman’s bills and placing them inside the proper compartments. “Oh, that’s-,” began Jimin and I silenced him with an upward glance. He shut his mouth and I handed the woman her change.
“Oh, keep it sweetie,” she said with that same tight-lipped smile from before.
I returned it and placed the leftover change back in the register. “Thanks,” I said, waving as she headed for the exit, corralling her friends behind her.
Jimin peered down at me with a smirk. “You upsold her.”
I shrugged and shut the register. “I didn’t bite,” I said with a nod.
He laughed, crossing his arms with a nod. “Good.”
I glanced up at him and snapped my fingers. “Oh yeah,” I said. “About the bowls…what are they gonna look like when you take them out? Like, do they change color or something? And what’s in the glaze-,”
He laughed and, instead of responding, simply opened the register and pulled out a $10 bill. He slipped it into my hand with a smile. “Here,” he said.
I furrowed my brow. “What for?”
“For helping me out today,” he said. “No free labor at Park’s Pottery.”
“Huh,” I said, smiling softly at the bill. It felt…fulfilling to make my own money again. Even if it was small. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “How about you come back tomorrow,” he said, and my eyes snapped up to meet his. He chuckled. “So you can see the bowls. I don’t wanna explain everything to you.”
Slowly, a smile spread across my face and I pocketed the bill. “Alright,” I said, nodding.
“See you tomorrow then,” he said, ushering me to the front door. “For now, I’ve gotta get to work on some more bowls.”
I blinked at him. “But who’s gonna run the register?”
He laughed, the sound bouncing off the stout walls, as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Starting tomorrow, how about you?” he asked, cocking his brow.
I reclined against the creaky wooden chair I always occupied at Hyejin’s Bookstore, watching the water and the building windows glitter in the sunlight. Seokjin was the only employee in today, and he looked as nice as ever. Perhaps there was some small comfort in liking someone I knew I’d never be with, because just watching him as he rang up customers or shelved old books was enough to make me feel warm inside.
But as I sat there idly watching the scenery or watching Seokjin which were, honestly, interchangeable in their beauty, he seemed to take notice of me for the first time that day. And, quietly, he meandered over. He smiled down at me, without his teeth but it touched his eyes anyway. And my heart kicked up like a racehorse.
“Ah, uh…,” I said, unsure why I’d opened my mouth in the first place. I let my gaze fall to the table.
He chuckled and sat across from me. “I know you’re the one who left that flowerpot,” he said.
I stiffened and swallowed hard, glancing out the window. “Well…”
“Why?”
I was quiet for a moment. I’d been found out, hadn’t I? Sighing, I let my eyes fall to the table between us. “I’m…also the one who broke the first flowerpot.”
Seokjin laughed, a little too loud for so quiet a bookstore, and grinned at me like I was some sort of character. “So you left it behind and pretended not to?”
I shrugged. “Kinda.”
He smiled. “Cute,” he said softly before standing up.
My heart was really racing now, thumping in my ears like a heavy bass. I could feel myself heating up, and I was sure my cheeks were flaming red by now. And, judging by the way Seokjin was smiling, mischievous, he saw it too. I blinked at him for a long moment, a moment almost too long for my heart to handle, and he broke into another laugh.
“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he said, then tilted his head to the side with a smile. “But if you want, you can just call me Jin.”
“O-Okay…,” I said, avoiding his eyes and busying my hands with random tasks like straightening the hem of my shirt or adjusting where my coffee sat on the table.
He laughed again. “Here’s where most people would introduce themselves back.”
I stiffened. “Ah! Um, I’m Lee Eunbyul,” I said, nodding once.
He smiled and nodded, leaning back to examine me. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I hope I get to see you around more.”
What more could he possibly mean? I already came in nearly every day…
“Um…yeah,” I said, nodding.
He laughed and gave me a wave over his shoulder and, once I was sure he couldn’t see me, I made a break for the bathroom. Silently, I turned on the water and set it to the coldest setting. I cupped a handful of water and splashed it on my horribly red face, desperate to cool myself down. Cute, he’d said, hope I get to see you around more. What the hell did that mean? Despite the rapid thumping of my heart and the redness that was spreading like paint across my cheeks and down my neck, I couldn’t help but smile, just a little.
And that’s when I heard it.
A sniffle. Just like the other day.
I stiffened and, as quietly as I could manage, I tiptoed down the row of toilets. There, at the furthest stall, the same sneakers on the same linoleum floor. I felt my throat constrict. Being here and hearing it once was forgivable. I could write it off as an isolated moment and walk away without guilt.
But being here twice and hearing it again…
But then again, if they were hiding in the furthest stall…didn’t that mean they really did want to be left alone? What if they shouted at me? What if it caused another scene? What if I couldn’t come to the bookstore anymore? Doctor Kim said it was important to have places where I felt comfortable…
But was my comfort worth more than this stranger’s safety?
I swallowed hard, cast one more look over my shoulder at the sneakers on the floor, and hated myself as I walked out into the hallway, resolving that I’d just pretend I hadn’t seen anything at all. It was probably what they wanted anyway…
I slammed my palm on the table beside where Gaeul sat, munching on a bag of chips. She jumped, eyes going round, and let out a little scream before realizing it was me and clutching her chest. She pulled her earbuds from her ears and lowered her laptop screen, giving me a glare. Smiling, I lifted my hand and revealed the $10 bill Jimin had given me.
“I didn’t even know you were home,” she mumbled, then eyes the bill, raising her brows. “Where’d you get this?”
“Earned it,” I said, grinning as I took the seat beside her.
She scoffed. “Doing what?” she asked.
“I’m gonna work for the pottery shop a few blocks down,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest and watching her face for a reaction.
To my surprise, she broke into a pleased smile and examined the bill between her two hands. “Wow, Byulie,” she said gently, still smiling.
“I don’t know how much he’s gonna pay me,” I said, poking my nail beneath a loose flake in the wood table with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to contribute much to the rent-,”
“Shut up,” she said, waving her hand and sliding the bill back to me. “I was never gonna charge you anyway.”
I glanced up at her, fluffing her thick hair out behind her with shut eyes as she fanned the skin her loose white shirt left exposed. “You…why not?” I asked.
She opened her eyes and sighed, shrugging. “I dunno, Byul. With everything that’s happened…I don’t think it’d be right.”
I stiffened a little, eyeing her. “What do you mean?”
“Like…when we were kids, I could write off what happened because I was young and stupid, but after high school I was supposed to be there…anyway, I feel bad, alright? Let’s not dwell on it,” she said, waving her hand and glancing away toward the open window.
I furrowed my brow. “Isn’t that what we always do anyway?” I asked quietly, watching the gaps between my toes as they pushed into the dark wood chair beneath them.
Gaeul sighed, gripping the bridge of her nose. “Byul-,”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t have said that. Just…forget it, okay?”
Her expression wasn’t good. Like all those times Doctor Kim insisted she come to therapy with me. Like she was having those thoughts I didn’t like. Gently, I stood to my feet and handed her the bill once more. She stared at it for a long time, at my hand extending toward her, before slowly, hesitantly, she took it from my fingers and met my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a nod. “But…I want you to treat me how you always do. Treat me normal. That way I can get back to normal.”
She blinked up at me, working her lower lip between her teeth with knit brows, before sighing and shrugging her shoulders. “Alright,” she said, then folded the bill and gave me a tiny smirk. “Although ten bucks isn’t gonna cut it for rent.”
I chuckled and nodded. “I’ll make more. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“Please do, Gaeul,” I said, smiling down at her. “Please.”
I awoke on the floor. Or…what should be the floor. For a long, disoriented moment, I didn’t realize I was dreaming. I remembered falling asleep on the couch to old TV shows, but nothing else. Gently, I rubbed my eyes and sighed. But as I did, I noticed someone sitting beside me. It took me only a moment to recognize him and, as I did, the memories returned like a rush to my body. He was already looking at me, smiling softly with his hands between his legs.
“Figured I should wait for you before going anywhere,” he said with a warm chuckle.
I smiled. “Thanks,” I said, taking his hand as he offered it to help me up. “How long were you here before I showed up?”
“Only a few seconds,” Namjoon said, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.
“It’s weird…are we falling asleep at the same time then?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said with a yawn.
“Shit,” I said, fighting my own yawn. “I forgot me not getting enough sleep means you aren’t getting enough either.”
He chuckled and took a quiet step forward. “I don’t sleep much to begin with,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back.
Tonight he was dressed in a pair of black sleep shorts and a loose tee. I chuckled, noting how pale his thighs were compared to the rest of him. “Hot tonight?” I asked.
He glanced back at me, puzzled, but it only took a moment for the pieces to connect and he cleared his throat, pulling his shorts down a little to cover more skin. “I, uh…I didn’t know I’d have company.”
I laughed. “Hey, me either,” I said, gesturing to my own sad attire: a pair of pilling leggings and a sweater that itched in the placed not marred by holes.
He smiled. “Where to tonight?” he asked, glancing around the darkness.
I thought a moment, slowing my pace to a stop and letting my fingers tangle in front of me. I sighed at my shoeless feet. “There’s a place I kinda wanna see tonight.”
He raised his dark brows. “Oh, sure.”
I nodded and shut my eyes. I focused on every minute detail, every yellowing floor tile, every fluorescent light, every window overlooking the sports field, every tree that waved in the springtime wind, every door that sometimes creaked, every desk. And when I opened my eyes, there it was. I exhaled and leaned back against the desk behind me, staring at the blackboard, recently cleaned with half-circles of white dust arcing across the green.
The room was exactly as I remembered it. The windows, starting at hip-height and extending nearly to the ceiling, the podium at the front of the room, the short desks set equidistant, the polished floor. It was a perfect replica. The only thing missing was the people…
“High school?” asked Namjoon, examining the room.
“My class during my last year.”
Namjoon chuckled and nodded as he came to settle in the desk beside me. “I would have gone here too,” he said.
I smiled softly. “Why didn’t you?”
He hummed. “Moved away,” he said. “I was around nine.”
“Hm,” I said, sighing as I rested my chin on the desk like I used to in school. Always sleeping.
He smiled and joined me, draping on arm over the front of the desk and resting his cheek atop it. He met my eyes gently. “Why’d you wanna come here?”
“Don’t you ever just have the urge to go back to high school?” I teased with a smile.
He chuckled. “Never.”
“Me either,” I said, letting my forehead connect with the wood. I exhaled long and slow. “Just got thinking about some things today.”
“Mm,” he said. He didn’t pry. I was thankful for that. Instead, he gave me a smile. “Tell me about yourself in high school. Would we have been friends?”
I raised my brows and scoffed. “The real question is would you have wanted to be friends with me?”
He chuckled and sat upright, clearing his throat. “I would have.”
I felt my cheeks warm with his words and stiffened, sitting properly and pressing my fingertips together on my desk. “Well…,” I began, then smiled a little. “I had hair to here,” I said, pointing at the small of my back.
His eyes went wide. “Really? I can’t even imagine it.”
I nodded. “Big and fluffy too. Like my sister.”
He smiled fondly and nodded. “Tell me more. Did you do any sports? Clubs?”
I shook my head, still flushed, and glanced out the window at the perpetual blue of the sky, the unchanging tops of green trees. I rubbed my forearm. “Uh, no. I was pretty aimless. Still am, I guess.”
“Hm…”
“I had a few good friends. It was hard at first, but eventually…I trusted them a lot,” I said with a nod. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, expecting it to keep going past where the ends brushed the tops of my hands. I cleared my throat and crossed my arms. “Anyway, I was quiet. Like now.” I sighed. “I guess I haven’t changed much.”
He shook his head. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
I shrugged. “I guess something did change,” I said, nodding once. “I’d been going to therapy since I was young, so in high school I was finally starting to feel a little normal. Now…I guess I don’t feel that so much anymore.”
“You’re normal, Eunbyul,” he said, then laughed. “More normal than most people I know, at any rate.”
I smiled a little, unable to fight it. “Ah, how’s that ex?” I asked, turning toward him.
He met my eyes with an uneasy chuckle. “Well, uh…,” he began, then sighed and let his head dip a little, sighing long and quiet. He rubbed the back of his neck with one big tan hand and I glanced away, toward the blackboard. “She stayed over with me last night.”
Something heavy in my chest dropped to my stomach and it was a sensation that was defiant and nameless. I turned only my eyes to him and found him still looking at the floor, at his feet. I scanned him from honey-blonde head to big toe. Hunched over at the back with his head lolled forward just a little, chin tucked, hooded eyes low…
He looked like a kid.
I sighed and reached out a hand, giving his broad shoulder a pat. “Don’t worry,” I said with a nod. “Nothing’s permanent anyway. You can still set your boundaries.”
He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Are you sure?” he asked.
I forced a smile and nodded, letting my hand fall. “Mhm,” I said. “Positive.” I thought a moment, pursing my lips and guiding my glasses back up the bridge of my nose. “You can always go back, I think. Even when you mess something up,” I said, and an image of that broken pot from Hyejin’s surfaced in my mind. I smiled a little and played with my hands. “Even if it makes you feel uncomfortable or scared.”
He watched me carefully and, wordlessly, he reached out a hand toward my face. His fingertips ghosted over the skin of my cheek, brushing against it just enough to send a chill down my spine. My body heated up and my heart thumped in an unsteady rhythm. Eyes wide, I watched him as his own eyes focused singularly on something on my face. What was he going to do?
And furthermore…why was I going to let him do it?
Slowly, his fingers closed around the frames of my thin glasses and he slowly slid them off my face. Smiling, he pulled away and I felt like I could finally catch my breath. He stared at the glasses in his hand, lashes dusting against his cheeks as he focused. He set his lips thin and began pressing the nose pads closer together. So gently I wondered if he was doing anything at all, he pushed them from both sides without bending the frames.
“I wish I knew you in real life,” he said softly as he fiddled with the pads.
I felt too hot, like I needed a minute in the cool air outside. But I couldn’t bring myself to look away. His skin was like amber in the fresh sunlight, hair sitting in little imperfect waves, his features looked sculpted and his hands looked too big, clumsy as he struggled with the glasses. He was equal parts devastatingly handsome and charmingly human.
He returned his attention to me with a smile and carefully placed the glasses back along my nose bridge, pausing to release any hair he had trapped beneath the frames. Still smiling, he pulled away and left my flushed, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry, I just noticed they keep sliding. I told you last time it was the nose pads, right?” he asked.
I blinked. “We don’t remember anything in the morning,” I said, unable to stop myself. “I forgot.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, then smiled at me once more. “Thank you, Eunbyul.”
“What for?”
He shook his head. “For listening to me.”
I glanced away and scratched my forearm with a shrug. “I mean, I’m not just gonna ignore you in here.”
He laughed. “You know what I mean.”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Thank you too. For, you know…being here. Helping me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, then smiled. “For the record, I think we definitely would have been friends in high school.”
Eager to change the subject, I sunk my teeth into the opportunity he left open. “What were you like in high school?” I asked, staring up at him through perfectly stable glasses.
He laughed. “Take a guess.”
“Popular.”
He laughed again, louder this time, and waved his hands. “No! No, definitely not.”
“Then…?” I urged.
He smiled and turned away so he could recline in his desk. I joined him, but kept my eyes right on his face. It was almost like we were classmates. I allowed myself a moment to revel in it before I had to say goodbye. “I was quiet too.”
I raised my brows. “Huh.”
“Hard to believe?” he asked, eyeing me.
I nodded. “A little.”
He chuckled. “My sister used to tease me for it a lot,” he said with a sigh.
“You had a sister?” I asked, then shook my head. “And she teased you?”
“Well, I was artsy. I liked music,” he said, then smiled. “That’s what I do now. Make music.”
“Really?” I asked, leaning toward him to listen closer.
“Not as cool as it sounds, I promise,” he said with a laugh. “But, uh…yeah. I liked to write lyrics and make little beats on my laptop. So I was usually buried in my notebook.”
“How could we have been friends then?” I asked, thinking aloud. “Neither of us would have approached the other.”
He laughed, and this time it was unbridled, a dimpled smile lingering in its place as he settled back into his seat. “That’s a good point-whoa,” he said, lurching up in his seat.
He didn’t need to say anything. I felt it too. That unmistakable tugging at the chest, like something was yanking me from the inside. I stared at him with wide eyes. “Why was it so fast tonight?” I asked.
He shook his head, eyes darting around the rapidly darkening room. “I-I don’t know,” he said, brows knitting.
“Time…,” I began, fighting the pull. “Probably works different here, right?” I asked, desperate to know who had cut our time so short.
He nodded, obviously resisting too. “Yeah,” he said, then met my eyes and offered a tense smile. “Wish we could’ve stayed longer.”
“Me too.”
There was a wistfulness in his eyes, a tenderness too. He kept smiling. “Tomorrow night I’ll show you something nice, okay?” he asked, nodding once.
I returned it. “Okay.”
“Bye, Eunbyul,” he said, waving.
“Bye, Namjoon.”
4:03. I stared at the clock on the living room coffee table with a frown. 4:03, 4:03, always 4:03. Frustrated, I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the couch below me, kicking the blanket onto the floor where it crinkles against the plastic Gaeul refused to remove. I spread my arms and legs and let my face sink into the plush of the couch cushion. God. Between not remembering my dreams and waking up at this stupid time every morning, I was starting to wonder if I should schedule a supplementary appointment with Doctor Kim…
I sniffled and rolled onto my side, expecting my glasses to slide off like they always did in that position. But, somehow, they stayed perfectly in place against my nose. Gently, I poked the frames, trying to coax them into moving, but it felt as if the fit had changed. Maybe because I’d been sleeping in them lately.
I sighed and shut my eyes. Didn’t matter anyway. I shut off the TV and curled my legs against my chest, bargaining with the god of rest to give me even an hour more.
I arrived at Park’s Pottery at 8:55, standing at the open window for a moment as Jimin worked. I figured 9:00 was the right time to arrive, and coming early might make Jimin uncomfortable. So, instead, I took to watching him like usual, the surety of his movements. I understood, in a brief flash of clarity, what he meant about pottery teaching him that he’s in control. Indeed, it did look that way to me.
A loud honk roused me from my daydream and I turned to see what had caused it. A jaywalking teen in a school uniform was rushing across the street, right across the front of a city bus who gave another honk as they slowed down so as not to hit him. I winced as the kid kept running, throwing apologetic waves over his shoulder at the bus driver.
Thankfully, they made it across okay. I breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted my baseball cap against the glare of the morning sun. Slowly, the bus rolled past me, still gaining speed after braking for the student, and I watched all the passengers in the window as they passed. A young girl and what looked like her mother. An old man with his cheek pressed against the glass, chest rising and falling with sleep. And, in the second-to-last row, a young man whose face was a blur as he passed. The bus was going too fast for me to get a proper look at him. But I’d seen the ends of his honey-blonde hair.
And it was…unsettlingly familiar.
That feeling, the one I’d told Doctor Kim about, returned. Like I was standing at the top of a very high place.
“Eunbyul?”
I jumped and turned to see Jimin standing in the doorway, brows raised and hands a gloopy mess of wet clay. “Ah, hi,” I said, bowing my head.
He smiled and jerked his head toward the shop. “You coming in or what?”
I took one last glance over my shoulder at the bus that was rapidly retreating down the winding street. I could just see its square silhouette. “Yeah,” I said, turning on my heel and jogging toward him.
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Rambling on sexuality. Apparently you can't do a cut on mobile? Sorry then. Pretend there is one here and scroll past this.
I've always tried to find a label that fit me. I had never felt liked I liked anyone in the traditional sense. Girls and boys were on an even playing field for me. No one set me a flutter. There was no lust at first sight. But the way my peers discussed it made me feel...odd. Displaced? Like I was missing a joke everyone else got. So I faked it.
In elementary school, 5th grade, all the other girls picked a celebrity boy they had a crush on. I remember being confused how they decided. So I picked Aaron Carter, I think because I liked his song, "I want Candy". I mimicked what they said about their crushes, "he's so hot!" Another girl also liked Aaron Carter, but as I was a bit of an outcast we never discussed it. (His picture was on her binder.)
In middle school I tried to take up drawing. I had a sketch book I filled with drawings of both men and women. I gave the women large breasts and revealing shirts. My mother looked through my sketch book, and one night I heard her telling her friend, "all the breasts are so large, what if shes a lesbian?". And I considered it. What if I was? I had no idea. I felt the same way about men and women still. My friends were branching out and dating and talking about crushes on boys in school. I picked a boy I was friends with and pretended to like him. I even faked a journal entry and left it out so a friend would see.
In Jr. High I briefly dated a boy who was friends with a boy my friend was dating. He was crass and kind of a jerk. Someone asked me why I was dating him, because he, "looked and dressed weird". I tried to figure out which features were desirable, but all the guys my friends liked were so varied.
High school hit me hard. Something was wrong with me I was sure. I decided to just date whoever liked me. Less choices on my part. In October we held a Octoberfest carnival thing. My anime club, yes I was in anime club, had a booth were we sold churros. I met a guy a year older than me who ended up liking me. So I "liked" him. We dated until February. He rarely showered and never brushed his teeth. I always felt gross when we hung out. In February a friend admitted to liking me. I broke up with the other guy for obvious reasons and accepted when the new one asked me out.
Things seemed fine at the start but this guy would go on to mentally and verbally abuse me for 5 more years and torment me for a year after that. I confided in him how I never liked anyone and never had crushes the same way others did. This was the first of many things he would use against me. He convinced me to have sex with him, because once I did I'd like him and be attracted to him. And when that didn't work, well I'd already done it, so I had to keep doing it. Then when I doubted things and didn't like being with him, he'd play on my various insecurities. "You'll never really like someone, it will always be fake. Might as well stay with me." "No one will like you if you can't feel the same way back, your lucky to have me." "I'm the only guy you can ever get." And beyond that to, "No one else would want a depressed sack of fat like you. I'm doing you a favor." "There's so much wrong with you, how can you ever expect to do better?" "Your so ugly and fat I can't believe I stoop to your level." And worse and worse yet. It was a slow descent over almost 2 years, but when he had me where he wanted me, he started to cheat on me. I couldn't leave, I wanted to die. The years with him were the worst of my life. And I trace it all back to not understanding how to tell if I wanted to be with someone.
We graduated and he moved into my house. The abuse only got worse. I developed fibromyalgia and other chronic illness, believed to be from "trauma". His abuse escalated after that. I couldn't escape him. And why would I want to? No one would ever take a broken piece of shit like me. He was doing me a favor.
He ended up leaving me. I never had the strength to leave him. He left me for, in his words, "a healthy girl with no problems". For the next year or so he'd get drunk and contact me. Eventually I stopped all communication. I ended up getting a tattoo he had forbade me from getting. It was freeing.
I tried the online dating scene for awhile. I desperately didn't want to be alone. But I couldn't connect with anyone. People would send me messages and I'd see pictures but I never met up with anyone. No one ever stood out. I didn't know what or how to pick someone.
My sister had a friend from Canada she played games with online. I played with them a few times and he invited his work friend to play to. I won't say we hit it off. My sister and her friend logged off and then me and the other guy were left alone. We talked, he seemed nice. After a few months the two of them got invited down to our house for a gaming convention in the area. The friend and I had grown close and he decided he liked me. I knew this time, I did not like him.
But as it goes, that didn't matter. He came down, stayed at our house and asked me out. I said no. He pushed and guilt tripped me until I said yes. He stayed a week. Everything was a guilt trip. He bought me something so I owed him. He came all this way, so I owed him. I said yes, so I owed him. When he went back home I broke up with him. He staged and gave me a play by play of a suicide attempt. His tactics relied on guilt. I wasn't used to that, so it was hard for me to let go. I didn't want to hurt anyone. Eventually I finally got away from him.
During that time my other sister asked if she could invite a guy she worked with to play league of legends with us, as he was very good and we wanted to win an event or achievement or something. He played with us and we did it.
Him and I talked. I told him about the guy from Canada. The suicide attempt. Most recently he had gotten the bill from the ambulance I sent to his house and said I needed to pay it since it was my fault. I refused and tried to quit talking to him. The new guy and I got close. He was someone I would call my best friend. When the Canada guy started more drama, he asked if we could hang out in real life, because up until then we had only talked online.
We did. I went to his house. We got teriyaki and played Mario cart. Something about this guy was different. He was a best friend but something else. Like our hearts were talking. We connected on a different level, something I had never felt with another person before. On the way home I made a stupid joke about not believing he never had a girlfriend. He asked if I wanted to be his. I said yes.
I gave him a hug goodbye. I kissed him on the cheek. He tried to kiss me on the cheek too but I moved and he missed and we had our first kiss. Everything was right in ways I never felt before.
Today we're set to be married, living together and have an amazing daughter. I couldn't imagine life with anyone else. I can confidently say, he is the first person I've actually liked. Romantically for sure. Sexually? I still don't know how that works.
I throughly enjoy sex with him. I desire the intimacy and connection and obviously it feels good. But honestly, what the hell is sexually attraction? Because I enjoy it does that mean I'm attracted? I don't know. I've never looked at anyone and gotten any...sexual feelings from looking at them.
I enjoy drawn porn and porn comics from an aesthetic point. The art is beautiful. The human body is wonderful. But it doesn't do anything for me. I like the art, the shapes, the aesthetic of porn. But it doesn't make me feel anything or make me want to do anything.
To masturbate or have sex I have to focus on the sensations alone, or how my partner feels. I've never found porn that works for me. I don't get horny from visuals at all. Half the time I forget he does. I'll be changing and he makes a move and I'll just be confused as to what got him in the mood. I feel a disconnect between it all.
There was a while where I called myself asexual. Seemed close. But the more I tried to fit in with the community the more I felt odd. Not outcast, because the asexual community is amazing, but more like I was fitting an oval peg into a circle hole. Close, but not quite.
When I consider it, men and women are almost equal to me. I think I may be more drawn to women at least visually. If I hadn't met my fiance I would have loved to date a woman. I enjoy the female form more from a aesthetic stand point.
So lately I've been wondering if maybe I was pansexual. A friend of mine is pan and she posted a quote about being attracted to the person, not the body. It felt more right and more like me than anything I had seen from the asexual community. But at the same time, my sample size of people I've liked it only at one. So I have no idea.
I also wonder, does it matter? I'm going to be with the person I am with forever now. I don't need to find anyone else, so it doesn't matter which gender preference I have or don't have.
I guess with Pride month I've been thinking about it a lot. There is a lot of talk of, "fly your flag high and have pride!" But what if you don't have a flag?
I feel queer. That's about as far as I've gotten. I don't know if I'll ever find something past that or not. Right now queer feels fine, just unsure. I guess I'm somewhere between sexuality is fluid and still figuring myself out. Who even knows what attraction is.
So happy Pride month everyone.
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Not to be too mushy, but I’m extremely lucky to be marrying this woman on October 27th. And I just want to talk about it as I sit here watching her decorating cookies. (I can’t do icing to save my life.) We began dating at the end of my senior year (her junior year) of high school. In college my anxiety, ocd, and depression got the best of me. I didn’t want to be gay anymore and thought if I ended it with her, everything would be better and I could live a normal happy life. So I broke up with her. We didn’t talk for years. She moved away to go to art school in Savannah, GA and I stayed at UK here in Lexington.
After two years of breaking up and trying to make anything work with a guy (even a very attractive navy man I went to school with, might I add), I could not keep her out of my mind. After my niece was born, I decided to get help. I went to a therapist to talk about my anxiety, my depression, an eating disorder I had gone through for 2 years, and how I hated myself because (in my therapists words), I didn’t feel I was worthy of love.
Two months later, I messaged her. It was a short conversation that didn’t lead anywhere. Another few months passed and she messaged me again. We talked it out (not very politely) and then let it be.
On Aralyn’s second birthday, she drunk texted me at 3 AM. She had been at our high school teachers’ lesbian wedding and had wished I was there with her. And said she had planned to propose a few months after I broke up with her.
We (probably pretty stupidly) met at a Dairy Queen for ice cream five months later when she was visiting family. Contrary to how she had once been, she held no doors for me and wouldn’t look me in the eyes when she spoke to me. (She also stepped on my broken foot which I joked she did on purpose.) it turned out she’d just ended things with her then-girlfriend and wanted to see me since we had texted fairly often. The conversation wasn’t overly pleasant but we were there until 3 AM. The mutual decision was made that we probably shouldn’t see each other again (ha).
The next time she was in town, we met at Panera. She wanted to really talk through the break up because we literally never had. I ended it over messenger (I know; it was horrible!) and there was no closure. We really talked it out and there was crying (mostly my end because she doesn’t cry often). We had met up at 5:30 and I made it home around 12:00. After Panera had closed, we went back to Dairy Queen for an excuse to talk more.
A few months later she graduated from SCAD and moved back. She was back a while before she told me she was living here again. She wanted to meet across town (far away where even she lived— jerk.) I went and she spent the whole. Damn. Time. Talking about her girls friends that could have been. It went on for two hours before I left in tears. Not even two days she showed up at work and apologized. She wanted to make it up to me because she’d been scared and had basically sabotaged what she had wanted to end up being a date. She offered to make me dinner at her new apartment.
That weekend, we unofficially got back together. She burnt the food, the candles smelled horrible, and I got called to work because the manager forgot his store keys and needed me to lock up. The whole thing was a mess but it was perfect.
I feel like it took us so long to get back together because we knew we would be here today if we did “it” and dated again. Within two weeks I knew she was my forever— it took her a few months longer! I’m so lucky to have someone who tells me I’m beautiful even though I gained 70 pounds from depression medicine. Someone who laughs at my stupid jokes and who cooks me dinner I’m not allergic to even if I sometimes don’t act as grateful as I should. I’m so lucky to have someone who understands my mental illnesses, health issues, and still doesn’t want to run away back to Savannah with her artsy friends.
Instead, she wants to help me stay healthy and she takes care of me. I’ve been having depression lately and she has been amazing through it— I don’t know why I didn’t let her in the first time around. It has gone from thoughts of suicide the last time to thinking I just want to cuddle with her until it passes.
This does relate to my stories— I began writing it as a coping mechanism for the break up. Literally two days later I started.
Cory is my Blaine— money, Michigan, going away to school, mannerisms, and all. (She has a wonderful family, though, I promise.)
Getting back together with her is one big thing that pulled me back to this verse. Because somehow the story has come to represent us even if the major life events of Kurt and Blaine are different. I want them to get the happy ending that Cory and I *are* going to have.
Kurt is so lucky to have Blaine and I am so, so very lucky to have Cory. Just like I can’t wait to get the the point where they get engaged and married, I’m overwhelmed with happiness that I’m experiencing this now. Sorry for the rambling but tumblr is for that, right?
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New Moon is going to be according to my status calculations on my app on my Windows tablet , at 3: 41am on the 6th of March, coming up, in zodiac sidereal for the New Moon is Aquarius. Predictions and more details to be posted later this week as I gather evidence and write my article.
Anybody looking to make a donation today!? To a good cause: getting a new astrology program software that I can run and get your natal charts faster and easier than anywhere on the Web, and far more accurate and without the privacy invasion? Well then , help me to buy this new galaxy gear I need to do astraunomer like working with the Stars and Moon's in your Sun🔔Signs Charting Birth Chart Analysis included, I will decipher the information for you, your going to love it if we can just make it to the mark of being able to afford it!! $$$ come on guys I know that cafe astrology. Com steals your birth information and uses it right? So does any other site no matter how legit they seem, if your serious about astrology and do not want a hex or curse put on you or a super privacy invasion issue, then DONATE PLEASE TO MY COMPANY I CREATED A BUSINESS PROFILE PORTFOLIO FOR MY ONLINE ASTRO+TAROT-GUIDANCE IT'S THE BEST BEST THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED, YOU ARE TOTALLY MISSING OUT IF YOU DO NOT FOLLOW ME AND GET READINGS OR REPORTS OF ASTROLOGY as nd numerology daily , weekly, even, monthly, because I have a wealth of great accurate source divine informative details you need to know NOW about your life! You just might be headed in the wrong direction astrologically or maybe your barcodes of your life aren't adding up and we need to subtract? That's numerology! And also my tarot reliable Readings are something you just should not be missing out on ,
I have totally stopped posting the free daily and weekly horoscopes did you notice?
That's because I do not feel like I should be giving out my great divine guidance fir free anymore, I'm feeling used and over worked, also
I only post the daily card of the day for tarot then a few other specials daily, and weekly but everything else I am currently putting on hold until I can at least afford some damn toilet paper. Because I just am not dealing with helping out a bunch of people with their super important questions for free when I do not get help myself for the things I truly need, don't you think my not having fucking toilet paper is a little bit more of an emergency than whether your boyfriend or non boyfriend likes you and you're truly actually meant to be with them, I have to apologize in advance if I seem like I'm being selfish, or rude. Please, I intend to not do any harm by bringing up this fact. Only voicing that I too, have maybe, maybe just maybe, bigger problems than your issues that I think are pure selfish things st this moment in time I'm real sorry that I do feel this way, maybe being broke has made me bitter a tad ... I don't know, cause I used to always go out of my way to assist anybody even if I did not know them, and I'd concentrate on their problems more than mine always focusing on helping others instead of helping myself, now I am purely from the heart, just reaching out for just some compassionate, you do not have to donate much just 3$ or more would get me through the day, 10$ could get me the toilet paper plus my dignity. Today. So if you feel like helping a lost soul out here in the Galaxy.
My paypal account for the company business I just trying to start up now is at this address: www.paypal.com/4tunef8
Hey everyone I just want to say I care deeply about each and every tumblr blogger on here, and I sincerely hope the best for you always, and right now I am doing little candle prayer magik to send you all some healing and luck , and if you do decide to donate, just simply write to my ask box your about you donated and I will be doing a super special ritual tonight (for another reason, personal worship) but I will include your name personally into my piece , and you will truly I swear notice something great happen to you by the time of the New Moon, on the 6th like I wrote at the top of this post
I really actually did not intend for this post to get so long or go on about my personal issue, also I'd like to remind you not to judge a book by its cover, I have huge medical bills and current legal fees that I am trying so very hard to keep up with, this is a really really hard time for me, personally I am not even wanting the morning to come when I go to bed at night. I feel borderline suicidal, if that isn't hard times, I don't know what is... and I'm not even looking for sympathy, or anyone to feel anything towards me except knowing my strength of how far I've come and acknowledgement for this strength that I, an unpredictably unstable mentally ill woman of faith, have come so far from where I used to be and made it through my spiritual awakening which I thought was truly the end of the world it was doomsday dread style scary shit ! But I made it out alive! And now I am a much more magical person because I'm so blessed with my true path of destiney realised again this issue feelings of wehen I was a young teenager, it's like I get to start fresh as new beginning, I actually got a real second chance at life, because if you knew me really knew me, you'd know, that, I had strayed off the great path and was walking along a fine line where I was in constant danger daily. Hourly. I was always in harms way, just on the darkest side of life, depressed and not living for myself at all. I was not trusting my intuition, I was being abused and bullied all the time. And that constant abuse tore holes through my personality and literally metaphorically emotionally ripped me right apart inside and out. I was such a mess I hit rock bottom anxiety struck me harsh but it was good for me in the end because at rock bottom, you have no other choice but to rise up from where you currently are, it's such a true realization, but the main thing is I had gotten better from the abuse, and left finally the abusive relationship and all the other abusive people in my life because as I was going up n up no choice but up, I was gradually actually slipping into my divine timed spiritual awakening which shook my world.
My journey to progression and eventually getting back onto my rightful birth path, my destiny too, this all started my spiritual awakening and shifts in consciousness, I was truly blessed to be cursed at this time. It all started when I went to the homeless shelter in april 2018, just before my birthday it's like surreal how it was all so planned out like this, it's crazy, if you guys only knew the whole entire story of what I have gone through and the truly horrific events that I now realised were all tests, and lessons, and that's my favorite way to look at my very abusive past and the unfortunate circumstances that wound me up a homeless addict on the streets of cities I dwelled in for times that seemed so rough and brutal I thought the pain would never end. Addiction can happen to anybody. But this is something that I actually feel in my soul that I was supposed to, meant to, go through. To realize some things, I had to experience this hard lifestyle. For me to eventually get to a place of gratitude and humility and to actually drop all my selfish ways and have more compassion, and learn that I am meant to have these traits because I am a great healer. In my community I live in currently, a lot of them know my past but do not judge me one bit, they all truly appreciate my free community services that I provide for those in need, they are all suffering from mental health issues and I am treating them (not so much their mental condition but other problems they have at home or with their body) . I am really good at working with herbs, spices, and essential oils. I make and invent cures to almost anything! And I have a biig book of herbal remedies that I, myself , have invented or have found online and then tweaked the recipe to bed much better!! This is volume. 001.2 of my Book Of Shadows. I have written so very many books about magik and the laws of the universe. I cherish my sacred personal theories and extensive wealth of knowledge I have collected. I'm just good at organizing this shit for some reason. If I wasn't so private of a person and afraid of people stealing my information without my consent then I would gladly post more of this type of stuff then I already have,in this blog and my other one which is personally a better one.
Anyways, now you know where I stand, where I come from a little bit.
I really really hope that somebody will take the time to donate to me this day so that I may be I can feel better and like somebody actually cares. I have over spent to the max on credit cards with online shopping, and shipping all kinda of witchy trinkets and necessities, the basics, I am stuck with a huge credit card bill, and I have my boyfriends credit card that I did not know until yesterday, but, he put everything to be on me. He totally used my Health Card and SIN # TO GET WHATEVER HE WANTED BUYING SHUT ONLINE AND SHIPPING TECH STUFF TO HIS FRIEND! I feel like I got scammed and I'm damned or something !! Not only am going to be suffering from PTSD and anxiety around men forever, because of this selfish Identity use basically total FRAUD, I AM NOW stuck in a bad position and with a bill and now the worst part is that I am actually facing federal prison because of some of the activity he did while assuming my identity ?.. thanks ?
I feel very very stupid, I feel like a total idiot for listening to my ex-commonlaw boyfriend, I'm glad I just decided to give him literally all of the furniture and all the shit we owned. It makes me feel less guilty about all the negative emotions I have towards him. I know it does not make it right but it does help believe it or not, because J eventually end up thinking about it as a positive .
If you have at least got this far through this rambling write up post , then congratulations, sincerely- thankyou for listening !
You are amazing
You have a purpose
Find your destiny
☆you're made of star stuff, you're a star!
You are perfectly imperfect
Your magic is valid
No matter who you are or how experienced you are in Pagan Tradition /Wicca and Witchcraft/The Occult or any related subjects and interests in lifestyle choices, your magic is valid! It doesn't matter if you JUST decided to become a witch TODAY or 5 minutes ago, that title is yours to hold onto and have forever or for as long as you decide!
Everybody is special!
Everyone is worth it!
Nobody deserves to be bullied or told they are wrong for what they believe in, simply , everyone's path is unique and it's just not four to critic anybody for the path they are choosing! There's a lot of confused witchlings baby witches and some bullying religious type overgrown babies out there. I think everyone should just have a little more like a lot more respect , because it can be intimidating to anybody who wants to share their opinions that they might feel are good ideas but are second guessing the post they want to make based on fear around the way some communities are reacting and trying to police these people's opinions. As far as I know this blog site was actually created to actually share your opinions without judgement and harsh exchange of words based on the content context. I can relate to this oppression. I feel as if not only does it sometimes the fear of rejection stop me from posting but also I have a big fear of being hated on for a lengthy and slightly random post I write it then I delete it right away. It's just that I actually have severe symptoms of A.D.D that my doctor is not currently helping me to treat, so I can get a bit off track sometimes, and my subjects vary like for example in my main post it starts as a simple astro galactic observations post, my starting of this post I just realize was about the New Moon . Then I started talking about my software that I cannot afford and then i went on to talk about my emergency thats actually bothering me even more , the fact that i cannot wipe my ass today and i do not live near any restursnts or anywhrr literally that has toilet paper availible in their washroom or else id just go to McDonalds and use theur washroom, simple as that...but not availible sorry, and now that im still rambling ans have your attention i have an offer actually for some people that do donate, I'd like people to donate towards so that I can provide a few lucky people with
Free Natal Astral Chart plus some informative explanations about your planetary alignments with accurate predictions to your life. I could eventually provide a much more accurate source of information in my reports than I do with this program I'm running off my laptop as of right now, but currently if you'd like a real actual Astrologer like produced Natal Chart , I am calling everyone to donate to this account here www.paypal.com/4tunef8 and let me know in my ask box that you have donated to my space cosmos exploration programming software .
This is getting way too long I know, but if you really did actually read some of this message at least the good parts, then please share my link to my paypal in your blog with a short excerpt on why they should donate to me , my cause, my business (just started) , and also donate to the astraunomer cosmos Explorer Division Technology that I am so very excited about but I know I have way bigger problem,than, that, but I just wanted to give you guys an idea if what I can do for you. We can make a trade? Please!? To dedicate my time and efforts to assisting every one with their issues gives me great joy, I just love to be useful, and a helping healing hand to any literally anybody , and so ooo much of my days are spent spending my hard earned money on others . To make them that herbal remedy for their skin they truly need because every skincare product on the market is littered with toxic shit that causes bad reactions and the treatments for acne I make that I've invented do not infect or irritate the skin, so they need me, and they cannot afford this 290$ treatment but I actually spend MY money each month just to get the satisfaction of doing the right thing as nd also satisfaction that my products produce results that are beyond what I ever expected of them, sometimes I need a confidence booster and this once a month or twice sometimes, spending I do to make and create this great acne treatment that's herbal and more of a holistic approach.
My greatest flaw right now is not my addiction or the abuse I'm going through anymore, I don't live on the streets (yet) have a pretty decent apartment but my greatest flaw is helping people if that can even be a flaw? It is though, I have so many many more examples of times during the month that I am called up "hey witch doctor, we got a problem, are you free?"
I am on paranormal investigating teams in surrounding communities as well, this takes out so much energy, time, and yes, you guessed it, money !!
Anyways again I am actually going to close this rant ramble weird thoughts flowing from my mentally ill mind.
I truly truly hope that somebody, just 1 person even, does decide to care enough about me , a poor lost soul, to donate some about, it's all up to you, I'm not putting any rules and I just am not one to tell people what to do or how to spend their hard earned dollars or anything like I do not push ideas onto people, I'm just not like that, I totally believe in freedom for all, I don't wish for world peace at night because I know that that isn't possible, there's some cultures that just do not mix and a lot of cultures prefer to stick to their own and that's great because how else would the culture survive and the traditions live on to the next generations if they were mixed with a bunch of other cultures and lost their true identities as a nation , that would be sort of sad in a way, but I'm really not properly medicated and should not even maybe be observational posting about this when in not well in the mind fully yet this day. But a donation will help me to wipe my ass and that's my main goal.
Kk,baiii, don't hate, just donate #freefaeona #donation #astrology #worldwide #tarotreading
Ps: Actually ANYBODY that donates me more than 10$ today and the rest of the week too, I have an offer, I will do a FREE TAROT READING OF 3 FREE QUESTIONS FOR YOU, BECAUSE I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH!!
And anybody that shares my link to my paypal explaining that I'm giving free tarot Readings to anyone that's gunna donate! I will give you a YEARS HOROSCOPE OUTLOOK, BASED ON MY VERY ACCURATE SOURCES OF GENERATED HOROSCOPES I RECIEVE THEY'RE THE SAME ONES I USED TO POST ON HERE SO YOU KNOW THEY'RE GUNNA BE GOOD, THEN
Anybody that donates and says it's towards my astro-cosmos software, I'll do up a FREE ABSOLUTELY, JUST THE COST OF YOUR DONATION, I'LL DO YOUR NATAL BIRTH CHART FOR YOU, WITH THE SEMIPRO PROGRAM I HAVE RIGHT NOW,
So there's my offers and anybody that blogs about these offers and tags me in them, is just an amazing person and gets the luckiest prize of all, they get entered into a draw to win a free natal chart birth chart wow yeah and and and I'm gunna give an astrology reading to you very reliable accurate information details you will WANT TO KNOW!!
#medical bill help#self help#help#send help#i need help#zodiac tarot#tarot cards#tarot spreads#tarot community#tarot#tarotreading#free tarot readings#free stuff#free tarot#freedom#freepeople#wirchcraft#witchy#witch#witches#green witch#kitchen witch#witch community#witchblr#celtic pagan#pagan witch#pagan wicca#paganism#faerie
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5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 22, 33, 40
under the cut cause it’s long af
5: Talk about the best birthday you’ve had.
tbh i can’t rmb a lot of birthdays cause they’re like any other day? just with good food lol. well this used to be a good memory but i don’t wanna associate myself with these people anymore. well basically it was a combined birthday/ xmas celebration with a few friends i had made on a sch trip to the uk. the seniors in this group of friends had arranged to meet the juniors at a said location but they ended up stalling and giving us clues to where they were (which was pretty annoying but cute) and when we reached the said location, there was a nice picnic set up with PIZZA and gifts. we just kinda chilled, played games, flew kites etc. it was nice ahaha. but one person in that group pissed me the heck off so now it’s kind of a tainted memory.
6: Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had.
probably last years. it was again … like just a normal day. sad. but what made it bad was that one of the friends that i consider close as heck, didn’t wish me happy birthday till literally mins before my birthday ended. i don’t wanna sound petty but it really made me upset. and … i found out she had a fun eventful date with her boyfriend (newish at the time) and that made me even more upset… yeah … i don’t wanna sound petty but things like these get to me lol
8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.
having no eye-bags. ahahah honestly i have nothing to be proud of. but having no eye-bags is pretty impressive for someone who has a messed up sleeping schedule. literally all uni/ college/ art sch students will have eye-bags but i don’t. i know it’s not that special ahaha
9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most.
honestly there’s nothing. i’m not happy with my body. that’s it.
10: Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had.
tbh idk what would consider the biggest fight? i’ve definitely gotten into pretty bad verbal fights but nothing physical. tbh most of the fights i’ve had were misunderstandings or stemmed from manipulation. i wouldn’t consider them “big” but they were bad alright and i rather not talk about it cause it brings back horrible memories.
22: Talk about your worst fear.
probably the fear of being forgotten and having nobody to lean on/ talk to. this mainly stemmed from never really having stable friendships as a kid and bullying that happened as a teen. whenever i think someone’s a good friend, they seem to find someone better and i’m just left behind. orrrrrr that i feel like there’s literally nobody i can talk to because my problems seem so minuscule compared to others plus some people can’t seem to understand the problems i have and tend to brush it over saying it’s all in my head and that i need to grow up… etc etc but yeah being alone sucks. i might seem like i talk to many people but honestly i don’t. i probably only talk to 1 or 2 people daily but if they don’t text back, then oh well… just nobody then
33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.
cry, rant about it on twitter (hoping someone will actually talk to me), listen to music, lay in bed and contemplate my existence. basically i do anything to numb out the “sadness” but i tend to talk to myself more and create more fictional scenarios to make myself feel better
40: Talk about the end of something in your life.
tbh i read this as “talk about ending your life” and i was like ????? ahaha ok umm the end of a friendship i really treasured??? it was probably one of the closest tumblr friendships i’ve formed. it lasted, i think, for 4 years before it just ended like that. it was with this person who i met in the knb fandom and we instantly clicked because we both liked the same characters and shared the same ship. i rmb us bonding over new years’ talking about dumb imagine scenarios and lowkey role-play ahaha. this person was also probably the first person i gave my number to? we even met up a couple of times. we’ve been thru thick and thin. i rmb being for this person’s suicidal patches and trying my best to support them and helping them to get psychiatric help. but suddenly this person changed and i couldn’t feel comfortable around them anymore. for lack of better phrasing, it felt like person’s life and troubles were sucking the life out of me and conversations were becoming very very short and forced. this friendship was slowly becoming toxic. they moved fandoms so it became even harder for me to connect and talk to them. i didn’t want to stop talking to them because of this and i didn’t want it to seem like just because they were mentally ill and they had a lot of issues, i didn’t want to be friends anymore. once or twice this friend snapped at me for sounding “boring” and “naggy” for caring for them and well, just not showing interests in their new fandoms. they obviously found new friends and they started to act even more ridiculous like one of those people that memes too hard. i knew that this friend had been thru a lot esp when it came to friendships. they honestly were sick and tired of being used and people leaving them. they kinda had this policy “if you put in effort, i’ll put in effort too. if you don’t, then bye i don’t need people like you anymore”. so one day i just didn’t reply to their text because it had came to the point that i had no idea how to reply to a “ahahah ok” kind of text. they didn’t reply to check up on me once. i did think of replying like a “omg i forgot to reply ahaha sorry” but the thing is, i’ve been pulling off that bs for too long and noticed that they never texted first to check up on me so i just gave up. we hadn’t talked for 6 months and i randomly decided to check their twitter account (cause i had muted them because they were constantly spamming my tl) and they broke mutuals. i was, of course, a bit sadded but i went down to scroll and idk maybe find a reason for unfollowing me, and i saw that this “friend” of mine, tweeted saying that wanted to keep their following count at 69 and only wanted to follow back mutuals so whoever that wanted to remain mutuals, to like the tweet. so since i had them on mute, i didn’t see it and they broke off officially from my life. lmao this all sounds pretty pathetic and not worth mentioning but given that this person was a huge chunk of my life and that i’ve been thru their highs and lows, it just kinda sucks. it saddens me even more that even tho i cared so much for this person, this person eventually didn’t give 2 shits about me after finding new friends that they could feed off positivity from. i know that i’m not the best friend, or that i’m not an entirely positive person but the way this friendship ended was so … ok that’s enough of this. i’m leaving out a lot of details but oh well i rambled for too long
#ask meme#thanks seyma!!!#doumekism#ask and you will receive#to whoever that actually reads everything#wow honestly#i don't mind talking about personal stuff
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My Mental Illness Story (LONG)
WARNING: POSSIBLE DEPRESSION & SUICIDE TRIGGERS, FOUL LANGUAGE. Last night I received news that a female JET in my community committed suicide. Though we had never met in person, we chatted through Facebook several times and of course I recognized her at various JET events. I remember that I saw her standing alone at an ALT conference last month and thought that it would be the perfect time to introduce myself. However, I did not because I was too shy. Now, I am filled with regret at my decision. I will write about my depression story tonight in her honor and just in case it helps even one person.
I have struggled with depression since I was 17 years old (I am 32 now) and have been on and off medication over the years. Growing up, I blamed my parents for a lot of things, mostly for their lack of attention towards me. I would say that my anger towards my parents was the biggest reason for my depression for many years. It was not until I got older that I realized that parents are not perfect - they are human beings. They did the best they could raising me and my brothers. They both had to work full time to support the family and I never gave them credit for that. Also, I did not acknowledge my own faults either. I was a bratty, entitled teenage girl with wild mood swings. I was no picnic. It’s a miracle they never threw me out.
Once I started to forgive my parents, my life got better. However, there was a dark cloud that had been (and still is) hanging over my head since I was 19 years old. The cloud has a name: Student Loan Debt. I have been drowning in over $50,000 of student loan debt for more than 10 years. This debt controlled almost every aspect of my life: my job, where I lived, the car I drove, what I was able to buy and do on a daily basis, etc.
So let’s fast forward to when I was 28 years old. There I was, stuck living at home with my parents because I couldn’t afford not to, working 40 hours a week at a job that was not a good fit for me, taking night classes and online classes at a community college trying to better myself, living paycheck to paycheck every month, barely able to pay my loans, not sure what the future held for me. I felt like a complete, worthless failure. Then something started happening. I started waking up every day completely dominated by one emotion: anger.
I was angry at everything. Angry at what I felt was a shitty lot in life, angry at myself for allowing things to get this bad, angry at the crooks who run private student loan agencies, angry at slow drivers, angry at people who got in my way at the grocery store, angry at my customers for blaming me for their broken cars, angry that I left the house 10 minutes early to get Starbucks and sat in the drive-thru for 20 minutes, angry at literally fucking everything. And the worst part was, I couldn’t turn off the anger, no matter how hard I tried.
I started to hate myself. I’ve never been the most self-confident person in the world, mostly because I’m too aware. I’m aware of all my faults and every little stupid thing that I do or say. But this was different - I was starting to think that there was something truly, irrevocably wrong with me. I was a defected human being and maybe the world would be better off if I wasn’t around.
I became interested in suicide. I started watching documentaries on it and reading articles. I watched a documentary about people who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, just a two hour drive from where I lived. I started thinking about suicide a lot. Could I do it? If I was going to do it, what method would I choose? What would happen after I did it? Would my family and the friends I barely talked to mourn for me for a few weeks and then forget about me?
I can tell you now that there is no way I would have done it. This is because I do not know what happens after we die and the fear of the unknown is more than enough motivation for me to not take my own life. Many religions have beliefs on where we go after we die, but I have been skeptical of religions for a long time. Many people are blessed with a little something called faith and I simply do not have it. If I can’t see something with my own eyes, I have a very hard time believing it.
Once I realized that I was spending way too much time thinking about the concept of suicide, I called the doctor’s office to make an appointment with a psychiatrist. The woman on the phone told me in a bored voice that the doctor was booked two months out.
“Umm, I’m having...thoughts,” I told her. My voice broke on the last word. She instantly changed her tune and booked me an appointment for the next day. I met with a doctor and got back on antidepressants. However, the medication made me even MORE agitated at first. I took charge and went back to the doctor again. I fought him tooth and nail to change my prescription.
“I hate people, I’m angry ALL the time. THIS IS NOT NORMAL!” I shrieked at him.
This motherfucker actually told me that I was perfectly normal and just had a “writer’s disposition.” Umm? Ok? But I have a job and bills dude, I can’t just pack up a typewriter and move to a fucking island somewhere to write my memoirs (funny story, I’m actually in the middle of writing TWO novels now, lol). But after he made his little comment, he begrudgingly agreed to treat me as a “mood disorder” patient rather than a “depression” patient. The medicine he put me on was completely different, and guess what? It worked like a fucking charm.
Once I found the right combination of medicine, I started to feel like myself again. I was no longer angry, shit - I didn’t have a damn care in the world. I stayed on that medication throughout my time in junior college and continued taking it when I went on to university. I lost weight (until I went off the medication while living in Japan in 2015 and gained it back double), made friends at school who I had a blast hanging out with, and finally, FINALLY accomplished my goal of graduating college and getting a job as an English teacher in Japan.
My story doesn’t have a happy ending, because it’s still ongoing. I’m living in Japan now, been off medication for about 9 months, and am still figuring out who I am as a person. I am happy to do this without medication because although it can be a wonderful lifesaver, I feel a bit foggy when I use it.
I learned something about myself: I am introverted to a fault. Introverted people respond more strongly to outside stimuli, such as other people’s noises, actions, etc. I used to scream at my mom whenever someone did something gross like, “Ew, that guy just spit!!” And she’d say “Well stop looking at him!” But it’s not that easy for me, like I said before - I’m too AWARE. I am far too aware of other people’s actions and they affect me more strongly than they should. So while you might not notice the person standing too close behind you in line, or the guy yakking away on his cell phone while paying the cashier, I’m over here like, “What the actual FUCK is wrong with people?!” Do not even get me started on the real issues that are happening in the world today - racism, homophobia and transphobia, police brutality, TRUMP. We will be here all. fucking. night.
I’m starting to ramble now, so let me bring it back. As you can see, my depression/mood disorder didn’t get magically cured. Mental illness is a battle, one that you may have to fight for decades, maybe even for your entire life. But let me tell you why you should: the world needs people like us. Why? BECAUSE WE ARE WOKE AS FUCK. Let me show you a little quote that my fellow English teacher who left this world yesterday has as the cover photo on her Facebook page: “People with depression score higher on tests of realism. Intelligence is positively correlated with mental illness and suicide. What this indicates is that if the mind understands too much about reality, it wants to destroy itself. Human life is existential horror.”
Yes, it’s a harsh quote to read. But with this realization, you are all the more equipped to help yourself survive. Let me tell you how I survive: 1. I know when things are taking a bad turn, and I know when to ask for help (aka, seeking medication, counseling, etc). 2. I have a list of things that make me happy, and when I’m sad, I do something from the list (if nothing makes you happy anymore, SEE #1!!!!). 3. When the pain of the world is too much for me, I retreat (I stop reading the news for a while and bury myself in a book or movie). Note: I am a white, cisgender, straight woman. I am aware that I have the privilege of turning my back on issues from time to time because many issues today do not directly affect me. I am LUCKY. Many people are not. This tactic does not help the world become a better place, but it helps me survive. 4. I recognize when I am in my own head too much, and I GET OUT Being in your own head too much can be a very dangerous thing. Racing thoughts can lead to depression and suicide, no question. Talking with someone else or going out and doing something with someone else will get you out of your own head. This can save your life. 5. I set goals and I accomplish them They don’t have to be huge. Maybe you have small goals on your list like - “Get out of bed and get dressed today” or “Talk with one person today.” Maybe you have big ones like “Lose 25 pounds” or “Graduate college.” Maybe you’re like me and have a mixture of both. But I swear to you, accomplishing goals does WONDERS for your self esteem. And many of us with mental illness can use as many self esteem boosts as possible.
I’m sorry this post was so long and I’m sorry that I don’t have all the answers. Most of all, I’m sorry if you’ve ever had to struggle with mental illness as I have. YOU. ARE. NOT. ALONE. And above all else, please, PLEASE remember: IT GETS BETTER. Maybe you’re in a bad situation and you feel that things won’t get better for you. To that I say this: it gets easier. You become stronger. You learn more about yourself - your limitations, your fears, your needs. You get better at taking care of yourself. You get better at surviving. You can do it. I swear to you, if I can, YOU can.
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An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 12
NOTES:
Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7; Snippet 8; Snippet 9; Snippet 10; Snippet 11
Word Count: ~4.7k
Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him and the healer; Isaiah, Cat, and Detective Voros here are mine.
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It isn’t long, but it feels too long when you’re in a crisis. Isaiah finds himself on the front porch of Faoust’s apartment, cradling in his arms a crow with a completely blasted-off right wing, and beats urgently on the door. Isaiah whispers the spells he knows, but healing magic isn’t his strong suit. Stopped the bleeding at least. Maybe.
Faoust is surprised to see Isaiah, blood everywhere, looking frantic with the injured crow in his hands.
“Hey, sorry, your healer? Can she help? Or can you?” The questions tumble out of Isaiah in a rush. “Shit, there’s several problems here but I need to make sure Cat’s gonna make it first and I’m not that good at healing.”
It’s late, but Faoust’s healer agrees to come, with the right financial incentives. She is none too pleased at the hour nor the particular company that has summoned her, but she’ll do the job. She works her healing magic, repairing the wound, stabilizing the injured crow.
“You should really get it to a vet or something. All I did was close the wound and heal any torn muscles. Can't replace the blood loss,” she says, holding out her hand to Faoust to take her payment. Cash in hand, she soon leaves.
The adrenaline starts to drain from Isaiah, and he wonders to Faoust about why his healer was so quick to leave. Almost imperceptibly, the crow begins to get bigger.
Isaiah stops rambling and considers a moment. “Am I hallucinating, or does this crow look bigger to you?”
Faoust looks at the crow, which has now doubled in size. “Dude, that crow is fucking huge.”
In the face of a lot of things he doesn’t know yet how to deal with, Isaiah decides to focus on the mundane. He continues to idly chat with Faoust about the fact that the healer apparently recently broke up with a roommate of Faoust’s that Isaiah didn’t even know he had, all while watching Cat incredulously.
The crow, as it has gotten bigger, has gotten significantly less crow-shaped and more human shaped, still mostly covered in feathers. The beak has become a nose, a mouth of dark lips. The face resolves into something mostly feminine, with olive skin and iridescent night-black hair, and dark-void eyes that stare up into the sky above. Isaiah is standing now, hands on his hips, staring in disbelief.
“…did I mention the officer?” Isaiah mumbles quietly. “That’s uh, another problem I need to mention…”
“What the fuck is happening?” Faoust asks.
Isaiah, as a practitioner of magic, has seen many strange things in his life. He’s never seen something like this. “Did that healer girl do something to my crow?”
“Want me to call her back?”
Isaiah shrugs, uncertain. “I dunno, Maybe? Ask if this is a common side effect?”
Faoust texts the healer, “hey why is the bird turning into a person?” and gets back a “???? Are you high????" for his trouble.
“…Cat?” asks Isaiah hesitantly.
Cat raises her left hand, which has resolved into a human hand with sharply pointed nails, and realizes she cannot raise her right, as there’s no arm there at all, and blinks.
“Uh, I’m gonna say it wasn’t our healer,” says Faoust.
Cat hums a single note, low, testing new vocal cords, and speaks very softly. “My true form, and an arm? The bastard god claims too much.”
Faoust stares. “Isaiah. Your crow is talking.” He pauses. “Are we sure we’re not high?”
Cat blinks again deliberately, and turns to Isaiah. “Isaiah, right? Your name? I would have named you for a star, but I couldn’t speak their names.”
“Wow,” says Isaiah. “Wow. I dunno man, maybe we are high.”
“I guess we aren’t taking it to the vet,” Faoust replies.
Cat shakes her head and stands, but wobbles a little as she does, lightheaded. Isaiah steadies her with a hand. She is taller than Isaiah, and shorter than Faoust. She looks between them.
“My blood will grow back fast. Faster still, with one less arm to fill, it seems. Thank you, my friend Isaiah,” she says, and pats him on his hair.
“What. Are you?” asks Faoust.
“I am not a crow, though I was a crow, and the bastard seems to have made it stick,” she says, and glances down at herself, most of her body still covered in feathers. She tsks. “I am, hm, a lesser immortal fresh from exile, shall we say?”
“Ah. Hmm.”
“I gotta say I was a lot more mentally prepared to handle this situation when I showed up at your door than I am right now,” Isaiah says to Faoust.
“I am a genius, and I've got nothin'.” Faoust thinks a moment. “Speechless. Well, um, hi. Nice to meet the real? You?”
Cat shrugs. “This isn’t my true form. But closer than before, to me, sure?”
“Sorry we couldn’t save your arm.”
Cat shrugs again. “It has gone with all lost things. Fitting.”
“Yyyyes. Fitting,” says Faoust, with no idea what the bird is going on about.
“Holy shit,” Isaiah exclaims, “um, oh, I’ve got to get the fuck out of here Faoust, the officer, ah, fuck. No doubt she’s gonna come for you next, looking for me.”
“Ah, yes. That. Sorry for a moment, immortal being. Isaiah, what the fuck happened?”
“Damn, I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to come here, shit, ok.” Isaiah takes a breath. “We were sitting outside, just hanging out, and that officer showed up looking for her radio. Made it beep. I tried to stop her, bind her, and it just ...didn’t work?”
“The witch’s old curse?”
“No, no, my magic was there, this wasn’t like I didn’t have magic, it was just...like casting into a void.”
Faoust thinks for a minute, unsure of the solution.
“So I kind of maybe panicked a little and grabbed her leg,” Isaiah continues.
“I flew in her face in the ensuing struggle!” adds Cat triumphantly.
“I was going to try to kill her, but she got her gun out before I could stab her, and then she shot Cat, and I,” Isaiah waves his hand around, and second guesses whether he should have stayed to kill the officer. But how could he, when Cat had been shot? The officer could be dealt with later, but he couldn’t have dealt with losing his friend. “Anyway. I am probably in deep shit now.”
Together, Faoust and Isaiah hash out the details of getting him to lay low. Faoust will kill the officer if she shows her face around here, and surely she will, after what happened. In the meantime, Isaiah and Cat will find a hotel—not a motel, that’s been Isaiah’s go-to and surely she’ll start looking for him at every motel in town in the unlikely event she doesn’t come looking at Faoust’s first. Faoust fashions an eyepatch for Isaiah to cover up his scar, and Isaiah casts a glamor over Cat so that she looks fully human, and covered with clothes rather than strange feathers. They say their goodbyes and good lucks, and Isaiah takes Cat’s hand to slip them off through the shadows.
Detective Voros suspects that Faoust won’t answer a call from her phone. There are a few lone pay phones left in this town, and she dials his cell from one of them.
Faoust looks to his phone. No chance this isn’t some bullshit. He answers, “Hello?”
“Ah, solid citizen,” says Detective Voros, “Evening, hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“Hardly. I'm usually staying awake. Now what could you want from me when I told you to stay out of things?”
Detective Voros is sitting in her patrol car in the parking lot of the motel, recovered radio in the passenger seat. She has not started a call with dispatch, yet, for what happened, because what the fuck happened? She fought a suspect for a radio she’d failed to report missing, shot at him, and he completely fucking vanished? No. Absolutely not.
“Hate to trouble you, but I’m looking for your little friend again. He....vanished.”
“I've got nothing for you. I warned you, and you didn't listen.”
“He stole my radio, citizen. That’s all this is about.”
“I made myself pretty fucking clear, I thought.”
“I can arrest you for threatening me. I can do it in a heartbeat.”
“You can try.”
“Fine. Fuck you then,” she snaps, hanging up.
Detective Voros doesn’t like her options here. She’s dealing with very dangerous bullshit that she is not equipped to handle. And that no one would ever listen to her about. She searches in vain on her phone for things like “magic police” and “wizard for hire.”
She should make a report. She SHOULD make a report about what happened. But the longer she has waited and not made a report, the worse it is. And the more she leans towards, can I just not make a report about this at all? Hide what happened? At the very least until she can resolve it. Can she resolve it? Christ, what a mess.
Once checked in, Isaiah gets two of nearly every snack in the little convenience area of the hotel lobby and takes them up to the room to share with Cat. She opens up a mini box of Cheerios and eats a few dry.
“No meat cereal?”
Isaiah pauses with a Snickers halfway to his mouth.
“I am joking,” Cat says, with a wry smile.
Isaiah sits cross-legged on the end of his bed, watching Cat curiously and thinking up questions. Cat sits on her own matching bed, upright, and something in her posture makes it seem more like she is perching, surrounded by snacks.
“So, you were the crow this whole time? What’s your real name?”
Cat nods and shrugs. “My real name? Lost now, another tribute to the bastard god. Cat is good enough.”
“You could understand me the whole time?”
Cat nods again, and is about to eat the Reese’s cups with the paper still on.
Isaiah reaches out to help her. “Hey, hang on, you have to take the paper off those.” He helps her remove the wrappers, and sits back on his bed.
“Thanks, by the way, for helping with the officer. She would have shot me right in the face, or tried anyway. Not sure I could have shielded it in time.”
“You are my friend. I had to help.”
Isaiah lets a moment pass, thinking. “You know a lot about me then, and I have a lot to learn about you.” He sighs. “Does the, mm, me being a murderer thing bother you?”
Cat licks the residual chocolate off her fingers and shakes her head. “Do not worry. I have killed in my time. It does not bother me.”
Isaiah yawns. He misses the motel. An open door would let in fresh air and allow him to see and, if needed, easily flee outside. In a hotel, the windows don’t open, and the door leads out to a hallway of disorientingly repeating carpet, that hypnotic liminal space.
“Do you sleep, being immortal?”
“Yes. I need sleep to function properly. I just cannot be killed in any way that matters.”
“Hm. then let’s get some sleep. Ah, and don’t go out in the morning without waking me up first? You’ll probably worry people if you’re walking around in nothing but feathers.”
“Of course.” She gets under the covers of her bed, and Isaiah does likewise, turning off the lights. After a moment, Cat speaks again. “I miss the stars, in here.”
Isaiah turns onto his back, thinking for a moment, and then casts an illusion of stars along the ceiling, little twinkling points of light. Not a single one of the constellations is correct, but that doesn’t matter to Cat.
“Ah. Thank you, Isaiah.”
“You’re welcome...good night, Cat.”
Isaiah is up before Cat, thankfully. He makes two cups of stale coffee in the little machine, and uses magic to coax them into tasting better than such old powdered bean has any right to be, setting one on the night stand next to Cat with a spell to keep it warm. He misses the motel. If he were at the motel, or any motel really, he would sit outside the door now, watching the goings-on of the world. Hotels feel like traps. Looking out the window isn’t the same.
Cat sleeps more than Isaiah would have guessed. Being in the wrong form is exhausting. And though this isn’t the right form either, it’s much closer.
Once Cat wakes up, Isaiah offers to put another glamor on her if she wants to go out exploring, since she isn’t who the police were looking for after all. But Isaiah reluctantly admits that he should probably go out as little as possible. And perhaps do more to alter his appearance when he does. He is surprised at himself being so resistant to the idea.
But Cat demurs, topping her head from side to side. “I am still...adjusting,” she says, looking down at her hand, her sharp nails, carefully clenching and unclenching her fist. After so long in exile, Cat is most surprised that she doesn’t have more to say, right off. She feels a little disoriented, on waking, not totally trusting that this is real, that this isn’t a dream.
“Let’s get some pizza then. Have you had pizza?”
Cat nods, with a wry smile. “But not fresh.”
“Ah.” Isaiah is already looking up a place on his phone, and picking up the room’s telephone to place the call. “Freshest, crispest, most delicious pizza it’ll be then.”
They spend the day eating pizza, watching movies, raiding the vending machine for more candy bars, and occasionally trading questions. And occasionally bumping into questions neither wants to answer. Mostly around family, and where each of them belongs.
It’s funny, Isaiah thinks, that for all his crimes he’s never really been on the run from the police before. He’s done well picking victims, and more importantly, leaving no evidence. Previous versions of himself would have simply cut and run. It is so strange to him to have something, no, someone he doesn’t want to leave behind. He shakes his head and curses Faoust fondly.
Cat and Isaiah watch a marathon of Forensic Files in the hotel room, Isaiah all the while adding little judgmental comments against the killers and how they fucked up. But that is the point of Forensic Files, isn’t it? Dissecting the errors of the ones dumb enough to get caught. Isaiah has never been one to leave bodies, not where they would ever be found by the people who needed to find them. Just a random constellation of unsolved disappearances scattered across the country.
Isaiah lazily opens and closes his knife as he watches the tv, lounged in the desk chair. “What do immortals even do with all that time?”
Cat is sprawled on her bed, on her stomach, head propped in her hand as she watches tv. “Ah, what does a murderer do with his? We aren’t so unalike, you know. I watched you idle away your days. It’s like that.” She rolls onto her back and crosses her leg over the other knee, thinking.
“You persist. Eat, drink, sleep. Come in and out of lives like a comet, here and gone. Staying too many years leads to questions, so—“ she shrugs “—you don’t.” She pauses again, thinking. “It was perhaps easier, back then, to do. Become a part of the lives of others, and disappear when the time was right.”
The days pass, and they continue to wait, Isaiah on the run, certain he’s imminently wanted by the police, and Cat content to keep hiding at this hotel with him. They find things to keep themselves entertained.
Isaiah is waiting for the iron to heat up, and when it does, he’s got a small stack of cheese sandwiches wrapped in foil, ready. He’s googled this. It’s going to work. Of course, if it doesn’t, that’s what magic is for.
Cat is gazing out the window—longingly, Isaiah thinks. He’s told her she is free to explore without him, that he can put a glamor on her any time, but she is reluctant.
He’s acquired a pair of tongs, and clicks them together as he waits.
“Tell me about your life before you were a crow?” he asks.
Cat sighs, softly, and frowns. “It’s not...that I don’t want to talk about it. It’s....memory is hard, when you’re beholden to a god of lost things. When I slip from one life to the next, he slowly takes my memories as his due. All that remains are little bits and pieces, hazy fragments. Before I was a crow?” She shrugs. “I remember it was a hard time. I remember a few sentences and sayings, here and there. I don’t remember much.”
They sit in silence for a moment.
“Tell me about your life before you were a murderer,” says Cat, still looking out the window.
Isaiah presses the iron down on the foil.
“I’ve always been a murderer. There was no before.”
Cat scoffs in disbelief, looking briefly at Isaiah, and back out the window.
Isaiah waits, flips the foil-wrapped sandwich with the tongs, and presses the iron down again. “Nearly always anyway. I would have been too young to have anything worth remembering.”
The thing that makes no sense to Detective Voros is that she searched the motel room, and aside from her radio, she found nothing unusual. Nothing criminal. Nothing suspicious.
So why the reaction she got? It made no sense. Though some people just automatically react a certain way around police out of proportion with whatever situation is going on.
She thinks to herself, he didn’t want me finding the radio. But why. What does the radio link him to?
She knows. But she doesn’t want to say it. Doesn’t even want to think it, because what actual evidence does she have? How the fuck would she ever get a warrant for this?
Maybe if she’d reported what happened the other night, she could’ve gotten him arrested for assaulting an officer and some other shit besides. Gone from there. But she had covered the whole incident up.
But she knows, she KNOWS...he’s got to be her suspect. Without a shadow of a doubt. Her missing, no, surely murdered victims—and her suspect is surely Isaiah James.
Cat takes to Isaiah’s smartphone, though at first accidentally deletes half his apps, and takes several hundred pictures, only some of which were intentional. As more days pass with no sign of police interference, and no indication from Faoust either way that the troublesome officer still needs to be a concern, Isaiah starts to go a little stir-crazy. He decides to take the risk of slipping himself and Cat through the shadows to the nearest mall to get her a phone of her own.
Isaiah relishes being outside the hotel room, and tries to keep an eye out for cameras, subtly turning some and avoiding others where he can. It’s enough, and they return to the hotel, with a decent little haul of mall goods and without incident.
On the one hand, Cat thinks of the smartphone, what a small and easily lost thing. But on the other hand (though, she thinks, she only has the one hand, huh), she is enamored of the ability to take pictures so easily and suddenly, and look back at them, and there is a little frozen moment of what was going on. What she ate. What a place looked like. Ah, if only she even had a picture of what her lives had been like before. But even a picture would have been lost. Still, Cat takes many pictures with the new phone, and then scrolls back through them.
Isaiah lays on his bed, the frown on his face—thinking. The nervous energy as he stares at the ceiling, opening and closing his knife with no purpose to the motion. Cat looks up from taking a picture of him. She recognizes this look on him now, after so many times where she couldn’t say anything about it at all.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking…” his frown deepens. “I couldn’t have done anything differently. I was too fucked up. Way too fucked up. But I, hm. I wish...I wish some things could have been different, maybe.”
On a whim, Cat and Isaiah buy one of those Lego sets with an obscene number of pieces, and start putting it together to pass the time. Cat can see better, but Isaiah has two hands to help with the assembly.
Or, he would have two hands, if he weren’t using one to text obscene things to Faoust.
“You must be texting him,” says Cat. “Hold that piece more this way.”
Isaiah tries to suppress his grin. “Yeah, you got me.”
“It’s good. It’s good to have someone that will make you smile. No, this way,” she says, and moves his hand and the piece he’s holding where she needs it.
Isaiah has, for Cat’s own sake, tried to convince her to go out more. She’s gone out only to buy more Lego sets. There are several quite elaborate sets in the hotel room now. Cat has said she doesn’t want to wander too far, because she’s concerned the glamor will wear off if Isaiah is too far away. Isaiah suspects this isn’t the whole of it, but hasn’t pushed yet.
Over their usual breakfast (per Cat’s sleeping routine, breakfast is usually a noontime affair), Isaiah decides to press a little.
“You know you can go out without me, yeah? I’m the one that has to be careful being seen, not you. The police have never even seen you.”
“Hm.” She presses her lips together in disagreement, and takes a cheap danish from the pile on the styrofoam plate.
“Is it the spell? Are you worried about the spell? The spell isn’t tied to me or how close or far away I am. It’s fixed to time, not me.” He sees Cat looks perhaps unconvinced, or at least no more willing to go out. “We’ll test it then. Next time I go out, I’ll do the glamour and you stay here, and watch me be right. It doesn’t take my concentration. I’ll be out highly distracted and busy doing other magic, and your glamour will stay exactly the same.”
Next time isn’t a long wait—Isaiah has plans with Faoust that evening. Plans to be highly distracted. Very busy. And with most enjoyable uses of other magic.
Strictly speaking, it doesn’t matter what Isaiah wears, if it’s all probably just going to come off shortly, but he puts on the nice, simple sorts of clothes that best show himself off, then comes back out of the bathroom to Cat and claps his hands.
“Magic time, my friend.”
Cat puts down her phone and sits up expectantly as Isaiah casts the spell. She looks down at her nails, no longer looking so sharp, at the illusion of a shirt, pants, and most importantly, no feathers, and nods.
“Text me if you need anything. I’ll be back later.”
When Isaiah gets back to his room, Cat has already fallen asleep with the lights on. He grabs her phone and takes a selfie of himself in the foreground, pointing to the bedside clock as a timestamp, and her in the background, glamour still clearly in place.
The next day, Cat wakes up around noon, and Isaiah motions to her share of breakfast on the dresser.
“Check your phone, I took a picture for you. What’d I tell you? No problems with the spell.”
Cat looks at her pictures. “That is true.” She begins to tuck in to her pastries with gusto.
“So I’m thinking we should probably figure out somewhere to stay besides a hotel. Maybe we can find something abandoned I could work some magic on. But I’d need you to go out looking for a place.”
He watches her reaction. She hesitates for a moment before continuing to eat with a “hm.”
“What’s the deal, Cat? Why don’t you want to go out on your own?”
“....a few reasons.”
“Like?”
“Just because I’m immortal...the world is still a dangerous place. I can’t just fly away.”
“I can help, there are spells I can—“
“That’s not all. I....am worried about running into...him. The bastard god.”
She puts down the half eaten cinnamon roll, drumming her fingers against her lips.
“He usually shows up, at the end of an exile, though I, I’m not sure this exile is over, to be honest. I hope it is, even if I’m stuck like this, but..I don’t want to see him.”
“Ah. Hm,” says Isaiah, feeling a bit defeated. “That...I don’t know how much I can help with that.”
Isaiah starts looking around for a suitable abandoned property, taking Cat along with him. He hasn’t found one he likes yet. And he’s beginning to wonder if he isn’t wanted after all—not that he’s chancing it. He’s not looking to run into the officer again without a plan. But he’s used apps on his phone to listen to police chatter, and searched online to see if he’s wanted under any of his names, but found nothing.
Is the car stolen if he intends to return it? Isaiah is simply borrowing the vehicle. It’s one that’s been in the hotel parking lot without moving since they’ve been there, and quite frankly all these Lego sets aren’t going to carry themselves. And he wouldn’t consider leaving them behind, after all the work they’ve put in. So Isaiah hot wires the car, and fills it with the things they’ve accumulated, because he’s finally found a building he’s satisfied with.
Isaiah hasn’t lived somewhere with the intention of staying...pretty much his entire life. Even in his childhood home, he intended to get out as far as he could remember. Staying somewhere is risky. It invites scrutiny, creates a point a pattern might be drawn from. No one ever tracks down a loose killer roaming the country; it’s the ones who stay still that leave too much evidence. But he wants to stay here, in this town, if he can. He pulls the car up to the curb in front of a thick patch of trees and overgrown shrubs, where the hint of what might have once been a gravel driveway can be seen in the grass, if you don’t look directly at it.
“Don’t judge it by how it looks,” he warns Cat, “because this is exactly how we want it to look.”
It looks like a weathered and vine-crusted structure is hiding among the trees. Isaiah motions for Cat to follow him along a zigzagging path through the trees, obscured from the roadway, until they are standing in front of a very distinctly abandoned looking single story house. There is a porch that looks like it’s one good sigh from giving up altogether. The brickwork is stained. Cat looks skeptically from the building to Isaiah, hand on her hip.
Isaiah smiles. “Looks like shit, right? Come inside.” He steps onto the porch, the boards groaning beneath his feet. He pauses at the door, disabling the wards he has put up, and pushes the door open, motioning for Cat to go in ahead of him.
Isaiah has been working on this for several days now. Some of the work he did with magic, and some he actually did by hand. Inside the building is—Cat blinks in disbelief—clean. Lit. A smooth, dark hardwood floor throughout. A kitchen. Two bedrooms. Some simple furniture. She opens doors as she goes. A pantry. A bathroom. A basement.
Cat flips switches, and the lights respond in kind. “This all works?” she asks, still not believing.
“If it doesn’t, I’ll make it work,” he replies. Suddenly he feels a little self conscious. “Anyway, what do you think? Better than a hotel anyway?”
Cat nods, quite satisfied for now. “Oh yes. I think it will do.”
- NEXT SNIPPET -
#an ill-fitting name#My writing#original story#collaborative fiction#Original work#original writing#original fiction#magic fiction#Magic murderer#Snippets#fictional murderer#Fictional incompetent police
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