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undead-supernova · 3 months

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HIGH TOLERANCE

Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

warnings: so much angst, a night gone wrong, more (derogatory) Steve, Gertrude (extra derogatory), Delta-9 gummies

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: dates aren't always what you want them to be...let alone with people who you don't really want to be on dates with

wc: 4k

song inspirations: VOID by Melanie Martinez, We Are Nobody Else by Lady Lamb

Part 4: "Only 10mg"

“What do you mean you haven’t seen any movies this year?”

“I mean, I’ve seen movies. I just haven’t found anything I thought was interesting in the last eight months.”

“What do you watch then?”

This morning you actually found someone on Hinge named Gertrude and by the afternoon you were on a lunch date. And you’d thought they were cute when you met up at Grub Burger, like really cute, with thin-rimmed rectangular glasses and a long dark braid down their back. They had a soft voice and an even softer smile…but it was quickly starting to go downhill.

Every question they threw at you felt like an investigation where you were wrong every single time, as if your preferences weren’t good enough. Even the lack of movies you’d seen.

In your defense, you usually went to the movie theater if Eddie asked. He was really good at guessing when a movie’s going to be worthwhile (and you weren’t). He never once disappointed. He’d also never taken you to a movie without at least giving you something of the cannabis persuasion and buying a large popcorn for you to share.

Sometimes he even bought your ticket.

Which you always pretended were dates like the desperate woman you were.

“Yeah, I really like 2000s movies,” you replied, shrugging. “I’ll pop on a Seth Rogan film every once and a while. Like, I know they’re a little outdated or whatever, but they’re fun. Oh, especially if you smoke some weed. Then it’s super funny. Like, This Is The End? It’s just cool to see all these actors—"

“I mean, they’re, like, super problematic,” Gertrude interrupted.

You nodded. “No, I know,” you agreed, scratching at your neck. “I know. It’s not the best, but like, I recognize that. I don’t think it’s all funny. And it’s not just Seth Rogan, there are other genres like dramas and fantasy and horror. Have you heard of the movie The Invisible? It’s about this guy who dies and is a ghost and can’t talk to anyone and finds out he—”

“I just thought because you’re queer, you’d have better standards for the media you consume.”

Pausing, you felt yourself deflate. You shrugged again, wondering how this conversation was turning into something else entirely. “I mean, I think you could argue that every piece of media is problematic, depending on the way you look at it. If you acknowledge that the media you like is flawed, you’re still allowed to enjoy it. It’s not that hard.”

Gertrude gave you that judgmental look again, pushing their fork around their French fries. “Agree to disagree. Anyways, maybe you should ask me a question now.”

As if I had had any chance to ask anything since we sat down.

“Uh, okay. What’s your favorite color?”

Gertrude finally smiled for the first time since you’d greeted each other. They really were pretty. There was just something so grating about their attitude…

“I think I like a soft yellow, something bright and cheery.”

You nodded, trying to seem more interested than you were. Some part of you even felt like laughing. “Yeah, yellow’s a good color. Very vibrant. Makes you happy.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe black? Red?”

Steve sighed, scratching his bare thigh before going back to his cherry and goat cheese ice cream. Eddie merely stared down at his cream puff flavor, unsure as to why he thought this date would be a good idea. He’d suggested they go out to get ice cream (definitely not to distract himself from what was probably happening across town with someone who he definitely wasn’t thinking about).

But Steve didn’t remotely hesitate, making Eddie think that maybe that was a sign. He was in it now. They were getting somewhere…

If only it hadn’t started going downhill just from asking basic questions that they somehow hadn’t thought of in the last however many years of knowing each other.

“Ah, come on, Eddie. You can’t say red!”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, trying not to get irritated. “Why not?” he asked. “It’s a color. That was part of the assignment.”

“I just feel like it’s a little stereotypical for you.”

“Why, ‘cause I like metal?” Eddie guessed with a sigh sitting in the back of his throat. He was careful not to release it.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replied. Like it was obvious. Like it was stupid. “Precisely.”

“Okay, then what’s yours, big guy?”

“Probably red or green,” you answered. “Not a soft green. More like a deep emerald?”

“Like Christmas?”

You shook your head. To give them credit, it was a common question you got whenever anyone cared enough to ask.

Well, except for one person...

“Well, no. I wouldn’t consider myself someone who likes Christmas all that much.”

“Let me guess, your favorite holiday is something weird, like St. Patrick’s Day.”

What the hell was this person even talking about? Were they hearing themselves talk?

You successfully suppressed your sigh before you decided to answer honestly. “Uh, my favorite holiday is Halloween.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me your favorite holiday is Halloween.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, because it is.” What was Steve even talking about? Why was he suddenly being so fucking judgmental? “Let me guess, your favorite is Christmas,” he bit back.

Steve laughed, oblivious to Eddie’s venom. “Yeah, the lights are cool. The hot chocolate with the peppermint in it. Oh, and the snow. You can layer everything. I mean, it’s cute. Plus,” he stopped, clearly trying to make his next sentence sound less rude. “I just think Halloween is a little…meh.”

“Meh?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What beef do you have with Halloween?”

“It’s just a little overdone, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, appalled as to why they didn’t get how important the holiday was.

“No, I think it’s about expressing yourself and becoming something more than what you are. It gives kids a moment of exploration of themselves and creativity. Not to mention its importance for queer people and how they can have one night where they can be themselves—"

“—without the scrutiny of the public. We could walk out in drag or anything feminine whatsoever and it’s not considered threatening, even if that’s shitty in and of itself. But it’s still that opportunity.” Eddie smiled to himself. “That chance. It’s bringing a sense of fucking safety that’s otherwise missing.”

Steve nodded before he shrugged, scraping at the bottom of his cup. “Yeah, you make a good point. I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that.”

Eddie forgot that he and Steve never really had conversations like these. It was usually you who he could talk to for hours on end, deconstructing what it meant to live and how everything was about perspective. Inebriated, sober—it didn’t matter. Like those days at the aquarium, you were able to see the bigger picture at the end of the day. You talked about stuff like this without even having to be asked.

That ticket still sat in his wallet. He always took it out whenever he needed a pick-me-up. It gave him a spark of hope that life could change for the better if someone like you existed.

Steve kept talking, but Eddie was pulling out his wallet and running his fingers over the ticket like it would bring you here and he could have you here instead.

As you and Gertrude fell into silence, you put your hand in your skirt pocket, feeling the smoothness of Eddie’s yellow pick. Tracing the edges, you wondered what it felt like for him to run it down his strings. How it fit in his fingers.

How he was doing.

Where he was.

If he was available.

You looked at Gertrude, watching them scroll through their TikTok feed, volume up, before you stood and grabbed your purse.

“I have to go.”

Eddie watched Steve reach the very bottom of his cup, hoping there was a way for him to slip in a reason to leave. Because, holy shit, this was a piss poor excuse for a date.

He looked back over at the long line forming at the door, knowing you would die to have a cup of the wildberry lavender flavor. You were a big fan of Jeni’s Ice Cream and always gave him grief whenever he went without you. It was kind of funny how your face would screw up as you yelled at him for being a traitor. He nearly chuckled at the memory.

And it suddenly hit him that he was way more concerned with his thoughts of you.

How your date was going.

Where you were.

If you were available.

Fuck having a good enough reason to leave.

“Can we go?”

You basically sprinted to your car, barely registering how rude you had just been. You didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even give them an excuse. But you argued to, well, yourself that telling them some shitty excuse would be ruder than not saying anything at all.

All you wanted was to talk to Eddie and tell him about how awful your date was. How mean Gertrude was and how confused you were about what the hell you’d done to deserve their scrutiny.

Sighing, you scrambled into the front seat and tossed your phone onto the passenger seat. Pulling out Eddie’s guitar pick, you tried to calm yourself down. You studied the brand, the tiny tortoise outline with the shell replaced with the Tortex brand name. It read that it was a Dunlop, 50mm. Smooth. Thin. The kind Eddie always said he preferred, always said it hit the strings so magically. Said it rang out the bottom E string, like it was trying to reach the heavens and got there every time.

And there was your eyeliner, ruining it.

You shook your head, resigning to the fact that you probably should just go home and isolate yourself for a while. Try and figure out how the hell you were supposed to be normal around Eddie and Steve the next time you saw them together.

Is that how it’s going to be now? you wondered, feeling nausea pool in your stomach. Are they going to be a package deal? Is that something I could survive?

For how long?

Before you could even start your car, your phone started going off. As soon as you saw Eddie’s picture pop up, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” he breathed, sounding as exhausted as you felt.

“Hey, hello,” you replied, trying to calm yourself down. “Hi. I was actually about to call you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I just had the worst date ever,” you grumbled, trying to rub the eyeliner off the pick.

“Me, too.”

You sat up straighter, shoving the pick back in your pocket. “Really?”

“God, yeah. I’m never going to Jeni’s without you again.”

“You went to Jeni’s without me?” With Steve, you felt like adding.

But you were going to be good. Just this once.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Like I said, I’m never going without you ever again.” You let out an irritated huff. “Listen, Weirdo, would you mind if I came over and we took some edibles and, like, watched a movie?”

Thank God.

“Yes, please.”

“See you in twenty?”

You smiled. “See you in twenty. Traitor.”

Eddie had gotten back to your apartment at the same time as you, both fighting for the closest parking spot with playful honks. You may have almost hit his van. And he could (maybe) admit that he almost deserved it.

“That’s rude,” he said as he hopped down from the van. “That’s just—”

He stopped as he finally got a look at you. Because it wasn’t even fair anymore, the way you just being you flustered him. Just standing next to your car with a simple Joan Jett t-shirt tucked into a short skirt and black Converse. Some sword earrings. And fishnets. Fucking fishnets.

Did he mention that you were wearing a different pair than the night before?

How many do you fucking own?

“That’s just what?” you asked, looking confused.

Eddie had to get a grip. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep losing his focus whenever you were around. Hell, he was already losing his focus when you weren’t. When you were looking like this, it made everything worse. Much, much worse.

He shook his head before poking your shoulder. “Extremely rude.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away, starting the short walk up to your apartment. “Hey, you asked me to hang and then you tried to steal my favorite parking spot? Where are your manners?”

“I think we both know I lost those years ago.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you said.

“Uh, what did you just call me?” Eddie asked playfully, clasping his hand over his chest.

A giggle escaped your lips as you ascended the stairs, making his smile widen.

“You heard me!” you exclaimed as you quickened your pace up the steps. “And I will not be taking it back!”

The two of you bickered like always, going back and forth with seemingly no end to each bit that you started and never truly seemed to finish. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t help himself around you, always excited to hear what you had to say or what you wanted to do. Anything you wanted, because any opportunity to be around you was an opportunity worth taking.

You decided to heat up leftover soup for you both, maneuvering around the kitchen while you complained about the weather and your upstairs neighbor who was taking all the warm water these days despite the scorching heat.

Eddie wouldn’t admit it, but he was having a hard time paying attention to your words. How could he when your hands were waving around the air and putting your hair up? How in the hell was he supposed to pay attention when you decided to run chapstick over your lips? Or when you bent down to take your shoes off, skirt riding up just enough to reveal the lining of red underwear? And how was he supposed to feel normal when you were wearing the cutest fucking socks, with black cats sporting witch hats next to a brewing cauldron?

“I’m gonna go pick out a movie,” Eddie said suddenly, backing away from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” you said absentmindedly as you fiddled with the microwave. “That’s a really good idea. What’re you gonna put on?”

“No idea,” he lied. “Absolutely no idea.”

After you finished the chickpea and sausage soup, you and Eddie popped 10mg Delta-9 gummies and decided to chill on the couch. As soon as Eddie pressed play on your remote, you immediately knew it was the opening to When Harry Met Sally. Like always.

But it wasn’t like you were paying attention. If anything, you were talking over it like you were in a crowded room. Small talk here and there until you were unable to keep your questions to yourself.

“So, you said your date with Steve didn’t go well,” you said. “Do you want to maybe talk about it?”

Eddie groaned, throwing his hands over his face. You may have taken the opportunity to stare at him, how his tattoos were visible. He’d shown up in his jean jacket but discarded it as if he was taunting you with only a black tank top and jeans. His guitar pick necklace around his neck. Rings. Threaded bracelets and watch. That fucking nail polish…

Focus, you told yourself. Just focus.

“I don’t know…” he trailed, biting his lip.

“I’ll share mine if you share yours,” you suggested.

A sigh left his lips before he gave in. “He thought it was predictable that I liked black and Halloween.”

“Has he even met you?” you asked, scoffing. “Of course you do. That’s, like, your whole thing. It’s not predictable, it’s just who you are.”

“I know! It was so weird. We’ve known each other since high school. I don’t know how he didn’t know that already. Rob knows more than him, apparently.”

“She’s extremely observant,” you noted.

Too observant.

“That’s a good...observation.” Now it was your turn to groan, making Eddie laugh before he added, “Now’s your turn, Weirdo.”

Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time. So what does that say about me?

“I got absolutely slammed for my shitty 2000s comedies.”

“But Michael Cera is a visionary…” he trailed, confused.

“Well, apparently they’re all problematic and I’m damaging our community.”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. So is everything else. Besides, you don’t even laugh at the bad stuff. It’s like eating around a bad food you like. It’s not like the whole plate is bad, right? Most of it’s good.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hand up. “It’s like eating at Waffle House. You know it’s not going to be the best meal you’ve ever had, but damn if those waffles don’t hit the spot every time. Especially when you’re fucked up.”

“You get it! You may be the smartest person I’ve met.”

“Or maybe the dumbest.”

“Nah, you’re pretty intelligent…when you want to be.”

“Ouch!” you said, grabbing one of your throw pillows and whacking him with it. “Take that.”

Before you could take another shot, he took the pillow from you and hit you back. “You deserved that one, Weirdo.”

You fell into gentle laughter, shaking your head at him before you sighed and leaned your head on the back cushion. Eddie readjusted, also leaning his head back so he could make eye contact with you. He wrapped his arms around the pillow, hugging it to his chest.

For a moment, you just kind of sat there and looked at him. Watched his eyes flicker back and forth between yours while you did the same. Studied the brown, the way his pupils dilated as you kept staring at each other. You couldn’t say how long that lasted before you finally said something.

“I just don’t think it’s supposed to be this hard.”

“What, dating?” he asked, tightening his grasp on the pillow.

“Yeah.”

He nodded, letting out a hum. “I don’t think so, either.”

You looked away from Eddie’s gaze to find him fiddling with the pillow’s black fringe, clearly anxious about something. It was exactly how he played with his lighter or tapped his leg. Rapid, incessant. Finding his bearings through the texture as if it could keep his attention longer than a few seconds.

And then he said your name, bringing your eyes back to his.

“Should I keep seeing Steve?” he asked.

This time you were the one readjusting, feeling yourself scoot even closer to him. Your legs were touching, the blanket seeming to slip halfway off you two. But neither of you moved to fix it.

“Does Steve make you happy?”

“I…I don’t know.” He let out a staggered breath. “I think so.”

And you tried not to, but your leg was slipping further down his calf. Blanket be damned—you were already starting to burn.

“Tell me something. Why do you always put When Harry Met Sally on?” you asked, trying to steer away from the subject of Steve Harrington. Trying to distract yourself from the heat building inside you. Trying to distract yourself from thinking something stupid. “I thought the second Lord of the Rings movie was your favorite. The Two Towers.”

He shrugged. “No, yeah. The Two Towers is my favorite. I just think I’ve just always related to When Harry Met Sally. Always missing my chances, opportunities. Always just one step away from getting what I want.”

Was Eddie getting…closer?

You raised an eyebrow. “Missing your chances?”

And why was he staring at your mouth?

“Yeah.”

But weren’t you also staring at his?

“Are you, um, Harry?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from doing something stupid. “Or are you Sally?”

Why was he so close to making you do something stupid?

“Depends on the day,” he said, softer this time.

And why was he leaning closer, searching your eyes for some kind of confirmation that this was okay?

And why were you about to let him?

“What do you want?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Eddie didn’t answer, the hum of Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal being the only sound left in the room other than your shared breathing.

“What has she done? She makes desserts.”

It was growing heavier the closer he got to you, maybe the closest you’d ever been since you met. And it was so strange, the way he affected you.

“You all went to a Met game together?”

Your fingers reached out, searching for his. Found it on his thigh, also reaching for yours. Fingers touching, itching to twine. And it was so strange, the way he moved you.

“But Sally hates baseball.”

And there Eddie was, leaning in more and more, his breath seeming to intoxicate you the more it fanned over your face.

“Harry doesn’t even like sweets.”

But it was dangerous, the way he could break you.

His lips just barely brushed yours before you pulled back.

“No,” you said.

“What?” Eddie asked, leaning back. “Are you okay?”

All you could think about was Steve. Eddie literally just told you he was happy with Steve and then he was going to, what, kiss you? What business did he have doing that? And what business did you have being a homewrecker?

“I think you should go,” you said sternly, throwing the blanket off and standing.

Eddie looked up at you like he was confused. As if he wasn’t just trying to do something incredibly stupid.

“What? Really?”

You walked over to the opposite end of the living room, desperate to stay the hell away from him. Because there was some part of you that was wondering how stupid kissing him would really be. But maybe if you stayed as far away from him as possible, you wouldn’t be tempted. You couldn’t be.

“Yep.”

Eddie shook his head, standing. “What just happened here?” he asked. “Like, seriously.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to go, Eddie. Okay?”

“No, not okay. Jesus H Christ,” he huffed, throwing the pillow on the couch. “You can’t just kick me out and not even tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You should figure that one out for yourself. You’re probably too high anyway,” you said, maybe a little too bitterly.

“It was only ten milligrams,” he emphasized. “And maybe, just maybe, I need to be given some clear fucking communication.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

He gave you a hard stare. “Really? Is this really what you’re doing right now?”

“What?” you pushed. “What am I doing?”

Say it, you thought. Eddie, please just say it.

“Maybe you should figure that one out for yourself,” he mocked.

And before you could figure out how to respond, Eddie turned away from you. He stomped over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his keys and wallet before walking towards the door.

“For the record,” he said, turning back to look at you in the eye. “I’m completely sober. You of all people should know I have a high tolerance.”

Eddie opened the door and slammed it right behind him.

Eddie couldn’t stop his thoughts firing at a rapid pace as he nearly sprinted to the van. He was going to pass out, he was so sure of it this time. Hell, he was dying. He had to be dying. There was no way he was going to survive this.

The kiss. The fucking kiss. He was going to kiss you. He was actually going to do it.

Eddie’s fingers trembled as he tried to unlock the driver’s side. But the keys slipped from his fingers, clanging onto the asphalt.

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely able to fight against whatever was grabbing hold of his throat and tightening its grasp. Shaking his head, he leaned his back against the driver’s side door. “Shit.”

Eddie clutched his chest for real this time, feeling his heart race. The panic was flooding his system, tears pricking at his eyes as he tried to focus on the breeze. The white noise of it moving through the trees. The stupid fucking squirrel nearly getting run over as someone barreled through the speed bumps. Your fucking Halloween socks.

This was going wrong. All of it. Every single last scrap of dignity he had was gone. He blew it. He fucking blew it.

If he was stronger, he would turn back around and bang on your door. Demand that you talk about this and tell you how your shared avoidance was going to be the death of any and all chance at a relationship. Kiss you the way he knew he could, knew he would.

Because there was no way, no way, that nothing was happening between you two.

He knew it. You knew it.

If only he was strong enough.

And it was occurring to him that he didn’t feel this way about Steve. If anything, he could never feel this way about him. And, frankly, he was starting to truly understand that it had nothing to do with Steve. It was everyone. He would never be able to feel this way about anyone else.

This time, Eddie couldn’t shake that off.

This time, Eddie knew that something had to change.

You couldn’t help but hope he’d turn back. That he’d walk right back in and kiss you the way you knew he could, knew he would if he wanted you like that. And maybe he did want to kiss you, you couldn’t say. But why would he continue to see Steve, bringing him up in nearly every conversation if he wanted you? What would be the point of that?

You were more confused than ever, finding yourself haunted by the scene playing on the TV behind you.

“What’s the matter with me?” Sally exclaimed.

“Nothing,” Harry said softly.

“I’m difficult!”

“You’re challenging,” he countered.

You fell back on the couch, sobbing as you listened to Harry and Sally go back and forth, nearly taunting you with how fucking accurate it was. How fucking accurate everything around you was, from music to movies and back again.

“No, no, no! I drove him away!”

This was your fault, and now you had to live with those pesky little consequences you hadn’t thought of. You drove Eddie away and now you had no idea how much longer you had before he would fade into a stranger, a fever dream of what once was. And a reminder of what could’ve been.

Taglist: @mrsjellymunson

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader

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hurtmeicantakeit · 9 months

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trigger warning [suicide, drugs, addiction, emotional, physical and s*xu*l ab*se/r*pe, m*rder]

i haven’t been active on here since forever and since i’m in a pretty bad place right now, i finally downloaded tumblr again. crazy to think i had this blog for about nine years (i started it in 2014 i think), back then i was doing pretty bad, struggled with severe depression, daily self-harming and suicidal tendencies but still had the hope that in two, three years things would be better - turns out i was wrong. a lot has changed ever since, i don’t know if it’s for the better or worse. what i can say - i never imagined my life would be like this. in the last three and a half years, things went downhill. it started in march 2020 when my best friend committed suicide. i’ve always been prone to trying out drugs but so far never struggled with addiction. well, when she died, i couldn’t take it anymore. i began taking opioids and benzos every day, luckily i was able to stop after a couple of months, but started smoking daily and haven’t been able to quit ever since. the longest period of time i managed without was three weeks and that was almost two years ago. at least i’m clean a couple of substances i’ve been ab*sing a lot, nowadays i only smoke weed, drink alcohol and do benzos (if i need them), even though my psychiatrist prescribes me those and once in a while i do take other substances, mainly just for fun though.

during that time i was diagnosed with bpd and ptsd since i could only remember one short term traumatic event from 2016. eventually i started to remember that my parents were ab*sing me emotionally and physically back when i was a child. the bpd diagnosis turned out to be completely inaccurate, instead i got diagnosed with complex ptsd (october 2021). every now and then new memories/flashbacks of being s*xu*lly ab*sed occurred but couldn’t pin down when, where or who the abuser was. a bit later flashbacks and dissociative episodes started to have more effects on the body. i didn’t know what that was and it did scare me, especially since i hate not being in control. mid 2022 i finally managed to go see a doctor for these episodes and they diagnosed me with psychogenic non epileptic seizures.

a bit later, a new memory occurred, but something about it was different, this time, i knew the location. it was my parents’ basement. i spoke to both my therapist and my psychiatrist about the flashbacks and they said it’s likely that it actually did happen. since then new memories have been occurring at least once a week or so. then, my therapist left and i had to adjust to someone unknown. in the beginning, it was okayish but after a short time it felt like she wasn’t the right therapist for me. it didn’t seem like she was listening to me or trying to understand me. after thinking about it for some time, i decided to quit therapy and start looking for someone new, better versed.

march this year i had the first appointment with my current therapist, someone who actually knows what they are doing. i started opening up about a couple of symptoms (which i did before, they were not listening though) and it really seemed like she’s trying to learn and understand. a month ago or so she told me that apparently i do have dissociative identity disorder. even though some symptoms were somehow pointing in that direction, i couldn’t believe it. if i’m being honest, i still can’t. on some days i’m scared i’m lying and simulating, on other days i want nothing more than that it all turns out to be a lie.

it’s weird, for such a long time i thought that i had a great childhood (even though i have amnesia for the years up until i was eleven years old) and loving parents. as i got older, i found out that that’s far from being true. my parents have been abusing me emotionally, physically and s*xu*lly ever since i was a young child. sometimes i wonder if there’s even more they hide. there are so many memories/flashbacks of places i’ve never been to, people i’ve never seen in my entire life. someone from the system implied that our body has been sold and still is. quite often i wake up in the morning just to see the body’s got new bruises, some times c*ts as well. my therapist is assuming that certain things still might be happening during the nights and on the weekends. she started talking about escaping these structures, possible punishments from my families side and protected apartments. so many questions are surfacing along with the flashbacks. what confuses me a lot is the fact that a few of my therapists plus my former psychiatrist suspected that all the kinds of ab*se have been happening in my family for many generations. i’m not sure if i ever mentioned it on here - my aunt (my fathers’ sister) was m*rdered a long time ago, beforehand someone r*ped her. my parents told me when i was around ten/eleven years old and i never questioned it or associated it with my family, but now i wonder if they actually told me the truth or if someone of them had something to do with her death. sometimes i wish i never started digging in my past but the point of no return has been crossed, i cannot go back. it’s hard for me to understand what happened, also because most of the trauma just happened to the body, not to me. most of the time i’m complete denial of both the trauma and the did-diagnosis. it can’t be real and i most certainly don’t want it to be real.

#trauma vent #trauma blog #complex ptsd

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

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the future is not fine | jhs

Genre: dystopian au, smut Pairing: club scene!Hoseok x club scene!reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: heavy drug use (the reader takes acid), mentions alcohol and smoking weed, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, hallucinations, this is the dark future where people have ruined the Earth and are paying the consequences. Summary: In a world where everything went downhill after 2020, people are itching to forget and live lives without care. For some, that means going to mysterious parties hosted by an anonymous donor. The text comes through in a group chat, with numbers you’ll never save or remember, and you drop whatever it is you’re doing to go. In the future, when the world is rampant with economic disaster and war, you can self-medicate yourself with the flick of a wrist and succumb to the music. That’s when you meet him, the mysterious dancer that brings color into your dull life, if just for a moment.

The sky was a burst of oranges, purples, reds, and bright yellows. The salt of the ocean was fresh on the air as you swayed to the music in the breeze. You opened your eyes momentarily to stare out over the water, watching the sun ripple across its diaphanous surface. ‘Party starts at sunset.’ the invitation had said. Yet another rather anonymous party at some rich kid’s house. Everyone came to these parties, but only when you ran with these crowds. The only way someone could be indoctrinated into this “elite” club of sorts, was to be brought on by someone in the chain. Most people realized this life wasn’t for them amongst the drugs and alcohol. So, they left. Which was all good and fine because it kept the numbers even; making it easier to host at more anonymous venues. But there were those who had been around for a while, like you. Two years into this scene and there was no end in sight. You’d exchange knowing glances amongst those that stayed, between you and the drug dealer who never changed as you made an exchange for ecstasy, and sometimes the rotating bartenders. The beach house you were at this time looked to be someone’s winter home and your party was its squatter. The invitation came through the group text, none of which were saved to your phone because you had no need to know these people. You had smiled when you’d gotten it, smiled sweetly at your date across the table and said, “I’m sorry, this just isn’t working.” Watching his face contort into total shock as you stood from the table, grabbed your jacket, and winked before leaving the restaurant. Pulling a joint from the pocket on your dress, you held your hand in front to block the wind to light it, and took a long, burning drag. You didn’t need to look at your phone again, having memorized the address the moment you read it.

So, here you were, among the others who all showed up as soon as the sun kissed the horizon. A low, thrumming beat pulsed up from your feet, tingling in your fingertips, and left a numb feeling across your lips. You had smoked more once you arrived, wandered outside, and that’s where you currently found yourself. The sun still warmed, but the more it slipped, the cooler it got. At some point someone had turned on the outside heaters, but you barely noticed the people around you. The second time you decided to open your eyes is when you saw him. The sun glinted against the natural blonde highlights in his brown hair. His eyes were closed too as he danced to the music. His body moved like water and he moved so fluidly that he had you hypnotized instantly, swaying on the spot as your eyes kept up with his movements. He wore a loose white t-shirt, baggy pants, and expensive sneakers that moved just as smoothly as him. He moved as if he came out of the womb dancing. Your eyes slid shut as the…third? Fourth? Fifth? Hit overtook you. When you remembered him again, he was gone, and he slipped from your memory along with all your other thoughts.

The next text came through on the shittiest of Tuesdays. You were sitting at your desk when your phone vibrated across your desk. The address was given, a previous venue hosted by god knows who, and was one of your favorite spots. It was an old, abandoned telescope that was once part of the now defunct space program. That one president, back in 2020 when he had gotten re-elected, had pretty much ruined the world as you knew it. That’s why these parties existed, to forget and move on. So, here you were, standing in front of the door ready to flash your invitation to the masked bouncer. He nodded once at you and stood to the side to allow you in. The lights were off, but soft lights, inlaid into the floor, shined upwards, not even reaching more than six feet. Every now and again a strobe light would come on as the beat picked up tempo. That was when you saw him again and your memory was jogged. Under the strobe lights, he looked downright mechanical in his movements. Again, alone. Again, eyes closed and feeling the music. This time you wanted to watch. The bar wasn’t far from the dance floor and you wanted to appreciate him. When the strobe lights ceased its assault on your eyes, you saw him lit from below. It threw his features, half hidden under a cap, into sharp contrast. You watched as he spun, arms lifting towards the heavens, and saw that even his fingers were as elegant as the rest of him. That’s when Sam came by, of course his name wasn’t really Sam, but the local drug dealer needed something for people to call him. He sauntered up next to you, having seen you hundreds of times, half of his face hidden under a highly detailed fox mask.

“Anything for the lady tonight?”

“One sheet please,” you said waving your scanner bracelet over his.

“Open up,” he said.

You turned as he pulled a small, plastic container from his bag. Pulling a small sheet from it he reached out towards you. You opened your mouth, lifting your tongue, and let him drop the sheet there. Closing your mouth, you smiled at him as winked at you from behind the mask before walking away. Thirty minutes later and the strobe light was starting to look like a rainbow in your vision. Trails of multi-colored light followed the man as he danced, creating beautiful patterns in his wake. Your body seemed to melt into the floor as you watched him, but you wanted to touch those light trails. With some effort, you pushed off the bar, and trudged through what felt like jell-o. He shone brighter the closer you got, and the light was almost close enough to touch. Focused on the bright blues, reds, and greens in front of you, you reached out. A jolt of electricity coursed through you as he caught your wrist in his hand and pulled you forward. His hand caressed the back of your head, pulling you in closer so that he could lean into your ear.

“How long were you going to watch me until you decided to come over?” He leaned back as he ended the question. A pattern of suns moved across his black shirt, circling around, and coming back again in a celestial march. His eyes sparkled under his cap and you swore you saw stars there.

“Turn him into stars and form a constellation in his image.”

“And the first thing she ever says is a line from Shakespeare,” he chuckled.

“I can’t help it when you dance like that.”

His hand was still firm on the back of your head as he pulled your hips into his. You didn’t really have to dance. No one would question it; everyone was here for different reasons, but under the one unifying rule that everyone kept to themselves. The second you stepped into his personal space however, you were his. He had you dancing with him, nothing technical, but you still felt as if you were in a pool and he was pulling you through its depths. His sugared skin blurred into the soft glow behind him and he leaned forward again, placing his lips to your neck. The feeling struck like a meteor against your skin, warming the spot and spreading outwards in a shock wave. Peace flooded your system as he moved down your neck, kissing again.

“What’s your poison?” he asked as he ground his hips against you.

“I’m flying with the golden dragon,” you smiled.

“How are the lights?”

“Rainbow prisms and you have trails of it following you.”

“How poetic,” he smirked.

He placed a searing kiss against your lips, and it felt as if your skin had melted through his arms and onto the floor. You were still holding your breath when he pulled away.

“Breathe.”

The sigh you let out had him pulling you closer against him.

“Can I take you to a room?”

These venues always had rooms. Or, Rooms™. You had never heard anyone talk about rooms so reverently than when you were here. There were several of them scattered about depending on the location. All were equipped with brand new mattresses, linens, sometimes drugs, low lights, and fashioned to be soundproof. Everyone only went to a room for one reason.

“Yes.” You were still holding onto to him for dear life. He grasped you firmly around the waist and led you off the dance floor and into the dark halls of the building. Several rooms were fitted with two, small fuzzy lights of red and green. Occupied and unoccupied. He finally reached one with a green light and pushed the door inwards. It emanated a soft pink from within. A pink neon heart hung on the wall above the mattress. To the left was a shiny, low table laid out with more drugs and alcohol, ready to be scanned and taken. Speakers in the room played the music still pumping into the room of dancers. An old Grimes song poured through the speakers lazily. His lips were on yours as the locked slid shut in the door. He pushed your jacket from your shoulders, and you let it fall to the floor. Caressing that perfect jawline, you pulled him in closer to you as you pushed his cap off with your other hand. His soft brown hair came cascading out over his eyes as he leaned in to kiss you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt to date. His tongue was hot against yours, claiming your mouth as his own. He expertly undid your belt and pants, hooked his thumbs in both them and your panties, sliding them down and kneeling as he went. The light from the neon sign spread around the room in a blur, washing the palette absolutely in pink. Below you, his hair had turned a dark pink with lighter highlights. His tan skin had the lightest dusting of that rosy tone as he looked up at you with dark eyes. His fingers dragged down your hips leaving trails of pink honey, left to drip down your skin in jagged ribbons. His lips were on your hipbone now, tongue trailing along your skin. He placed a kiss above your clit and flicked his tongue on the hood. You moaned softly as you moved your hips against him. He gently moved your lips apart to lick at you more fully. You reached for his hair and you swore you saw glitter fall from those pink strands. The music changed then, from the slow melody to a fast paced track that had your heart racing. He pushed your hips against the wall behind you hard and you felt your breath leave your chest in a huff. He started to devour you as if you were the drug he had chosen for the night, forgetting about his woes as he buried himself in your cunt. You tugged at his roots as you doubled over. The stimulation had your thighs shaking and your knees buckling. His fingers dug into your hips as he forced you over the edge quickly. The room burst into light, glowing bright, and you closed your eyes against the burn. You felt as if you stood under a waterfall, drenched from head to toe in pleasure. Somehow, he had you from against the wall to your back on the soft mattress with minimal movement. The taste of you flooded your taste buds as he kissed you. The heat between the two of you was scorching. You tugged at his shirt until he pulled it over his head, revealing a well-toned body. The top you wore was cropped and what was the use of a bra tonight, so it was easy for him to just push the thin fabric up your chest. He wrapped his lips around your nipple as he ran his fingers down your stomach, leaving paths of light. Pushing two fingers inside of you, he sighed. You wrapped him in such warmth and wetness that he couldn’t wait to feel more of you. You reached between the two of you and worked his pants over his ass, enough to free him and have him in your hand. He moaned against you as you wrapped for fingers around his length, silk against silk, pre cum leaking at its tip, and becoming harder in your touch. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that the walls were rotating slowly around the room. The heart slipped into your vision before moving back out, creating a pink spotlight on the both of you wherever it went.

“What do you see?” he whispered against your chest.

“Walls are rotating.” You hissed as he sucked your nipple between his teeth.

“Fast or slow?” he asked as your nipple grazed his teeth when he pulled back. Your chest heaved forward, chasing him on its own will before you let out a breath and sunk back among the sheets.

“Slow.”

“Good.” You knew what he was doing. He was keeping your mood as calm as possible, having you focus on the pleasure and the absolute happiness coursing your veins. He knew exactly what he was working with.

Your hand fell from him as he sat up, but his fingers stayed firmly inside of you. He twisted them and hooked his fingers against your g-spot and pumped slowly. He managed to kick his pants off the rest of the way and sat up between your legs. Looking down, he was admiring what was laid out before him. Reaching out he grabbed your hand and pulled you to sitting. The walls rotated a little faster for a second before settling back into that steady rhythm. It was almost hypnotic, watching the neon heart travel the edge of the room.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes fixed on his and they shined just as bright as earlier. They were clear as night; small slivers of pink shown like tiny Milky Ways in their black depths. He looked at you as if the moon shown down on you and you alone. His fingers were out of you now, squeezing your thigh. He caressed your cheek sweetly as he brought your face to his. Your lips chased his as he moved back slowly, smiling as he went. His warm hand never left your cheek as he kept a breath’s distance away from you.

“What’s your name?” he whispered.

“_____.”

“_____.” He let your name roll off his tongue seductively and it fell out of his mouth like diamonds.

“Yours?” you were still fixated on his eyes; the pink Milky Way had grown brighter the closer it got.

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseoook.” You giggled lightly at the way it sounded coming from you.

His smile was bright, and he seemed to glow in the fuchsia monotony of the room.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice like caramel.

You did and started to get on your hands when he spoke.

“No, no, no. Sit up.”

You turned your head to look at him. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer until you felt his cock nestled in your ass cheeks. More of the pink honey cascaded across your skin as he ran his hands across your chest. One of his hands was between your legs from behind, pushing you upwards. You felt him nudging at your entrance and, adjusting yourself, you sat down. He gasped as you sunk down, your body taking him in as if he always belonged there. He kissed along your shoulder as you moved your hips, his fingers pressed firmly into your skin.

The music was a low pulse with a synth playing a slow tune accompanied by some electronic drumbeats. The neon heart was just sliding into view again when you closed your eyes. Your movements felt slow, but everything felt so good. He kissed the back of your neck as he too started to move. You gasped when he thrust up into you, while barely letting you move with his firm grip on your hip. His name fell from your lips in soft moans and you heard him sigh in satisfaction. When you opened your eyes again you saw geometric patterns of random pulsing color decorate the still turning walls. Your body was strung like a bow, tense, and you refused to breathe. He brought you closer and closer with each thrust and your pussy felt as if it were getting hotter. When your orgasm hit, so did the full force of the hallucinogen. What you weren’t expecting was the explosion of neon animals that now rotated around the room, but they weren’t just any and all animals, there was a wide array of sea creatures swimming around you as if in an aquarium. A neon great white swam by followed closely by a sea turtle and a school of small fish.

“What do you see?” he was still thrusting into you steadily as he spoke.

“Neon octopus…and fish.”

“Do you feel good?”

Your eyes closed, letting the cool water you believed was there to wash over you.

“So good,” you whispered.

He moved you from his lap, rotating you lithely, and he was soon hovering over you. Behind his shoulder and across the ceiling swam a large neon whale, but you weren’t focused on it right now. Hoseok was above you, studying your face intently as he bit his bottom lip. He slid into you with you barely noticing his movements, so he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened before slipping shut, mouth open in ecstasy as he worked you open again. He was up on his hands so he could still watch you writhe beneath him and the expressions on your face.

He leaned down again after a moment, propped up on his elbow, and his lips were at your ear. “I want you to see the universe.”

He reached down, two fingers on your clit as he rotated his hips into you. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes and your body warmed from within. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he expertly worked his cock and fingers in tandem. A scream was trapped in your throat as you came, and your eyes opened as it peaked. You could see that he was still watching your face but behind him, the scene had changed. The room from the floor to about four feet was unchanged. The rest had turned into the night sky and what you would have described the Big Bang to look like. Explosions of color flashed before your eyes as stars formed and died out. Green, pink, and blue gases hovered around a small Milky Way. Comets passed by and so did passing constellations. You felt as if you were seeing a symphony personified, the music of the universe laid out before you.

When you came down and was able to focus somewhere else, you looked at him again. You no longer felt him inside of you. Reaching for his arm you looked at him alarm.

“What about you?” The stars twinkled behind him, moving slowly across the night sky.

He smiled. “What did you see?”

The way he looked at you made you think he could see the stars reflected in your eyes, content to view the night sky and still be able to look at you.

“So many stars.” Your eyes searched his as you spoke. “Everywhere. Stars.”

He smiled at you as you looked at what he could not see.

“You never told me your poison.”

He smirked coyly before speaking. “I didn’t take anything. I did this for you, and I wanted to remember.”

No one ever came to these parties sober. They all came here to forget, so what was he doing?

“What?”

“I’ve been coming to these parties for months. How you haven’t noticed me I don’t know.”

You wanted to know why you hadn’t seen him either.

“But why?”

“I’ve seen your misery. Those moments before the drugs hit, I see you. Then you move to music like it comes from inside of you. But when the parties were over you didn’t look nearly as satisfied with the night as the others did.”

He was right. The weight and misery of the world always weighed heavy somewhere. The increase in drugs never helped fully, but it did help you cope.

“I wanted you to feel something for once.”

Your heart thudded hard in your chest. You realized that the anxiety usually thrashing in the corner of your mind had been told to stay quiet. Suddenly, everything didn’t feel so bad. The stars still steadily floated by.

“Thank you for letting me see the universe.”

“Thank you for letting me see that these parties aren’t the only thing that can make me feel.”

Leaving as the sun came up, he stepped out of the building at your side. The bright yellow of morning was peaking over the mountains and you looked up at Hoseok beside you. He seemed at peace as he gazed over the sleeping valley below. No, the future was not fine as they had promised but there were still people in the world that made it feel that way.

#bts smut #bts au #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #trigger warning: drug use #trigger warning: hallucinations #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #reader insert #dystopian!au #hoseok

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jacksonroseroth · 5 years

Text

Waste Love Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first MGK/Colson Baker fic. I’m not too immersed in the fandom, so some of my scenes might be wrong/off character. Let me know. Correct me. This is only my first one. :) Hope you like it.

Warnings: Swearing, Weed Usage

Words: 4,747

Moodboard by @badwolf-in-the-impala, none of the pictures are ours

Jersey lounged on the couch in the bus, earbuds in as she listened to music while editing. Propped up by the armrest of the couch, with her knees up, she rested her laptop on her thighs, editing the pictures she took from last night’s show. Being Rook’s visiting cousin had its advantages. Not only did Colson hook her up with a pretty sweet bunk; Big enough that she could comfortably sit up a little more while on her computer. He also began to let her take pictures at a few shows, field testing her as the band’s photographer.

Her own photography business was slow goings to get it completely up and running--At the moment it was stumbling downhill--And she was desperate to get out of, not only New Jersey, but the States in general. She had other freelance jobs and had traveled all over the country, but never outside. When she called up her cousin, Rook, needing a good laugh and a change of pace, Rook invited her to one of their last shows in the U.S., at EST Fest, before they headed off to the European leg of the Hotel Diablo tour.

Armed with the knowledge that she was going to be backstage at a Machine Gun Kelly concert, she remembered to bring her camera this time, every other visit was so last minute it was the last thing on her mind. She brought it, not only to capture backstage shenanigans but to finally get the pictures she wanted of Rook in his element. After showing them around the next day, Colson got a good look at them and asked her to come on tour with them to do a few shows.

Jersey decided to skip every other show, not only to give her a break from the madness, not fully realizing what she had gotten herself into, but she often found herself needing the 3 uninterrupted hours to edit the thousands of pictures she ended up taking. As she finished the last few pictures from the show in Tokyo, she felt the vibrations of music fade away. Pulling out an earbud, she heard Colson’s final goodbye to the crowd and smirked. When she heard they were going to be at the Leeds and Reading Festivals, Jersey was determined to only work during the Leeds show, while Colson performed, then join everyone afterward. She took a few minutes to put everything away; Her camera and cords, along with her laptop, stowing them in her bunk, before grabbing an old looking book and opened it. It was a false book and was filled with all possible manner of marijuana; Edibles, cartridges, joints, flower, and rolling papers. She grabbed a small baggie of gummies, two joints, and a lighter before flipping the book shut and putting it back.

She hurried out of the bus, jumping down the steps and waving to their bus driver, who sat out in the sun while she worked. She pulled her VIP badge out from her back pocket and put the lanyard around her neck as she approached the security gate. Though she had been there earlier in the day and the guards all knew who she was with, she still flashed them the badge as she strolled through, tossing them a sweet smile. Jersey weaved through the tents until she heard a sudden and wild Rook scream. Her head whipped around just as her cousin came tumbling into view, closely followed by Colson, laughing. Rolling her emerald eyes and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, Jersey turned and headed for the group as they made their way through the crowd toward her.

“Oi! You fuckers better not be having fun without me.” She called, once they were in earshot. Rook turned, quickly, and smiled, chasing down his cousin to scoop her up in a hug.

“There you are! It’s about time.” Rook said, setting her down and kissing her cheek.

“Hey, the guy doesn’t pay me to not work,” Jersey said, breaking away from Rook to give Colson a quick hug before moving onto the others. Colson shrugged, looking at Rook and said, “It’s true.” He laughed and hooked an arm around Rook’s neck once he got close, rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head.

“Get off, fucker!” Rook yelled, shoving his friend away while he laughed.

“Hey, Picture Girl. About time you joined us.” Slim said, putting an arm around her to give her a side hug. “I thought you were gonna stay on the bus.”

“Nah, just until I finished the pictures,” Jersey said. Slim chuckled and nodded as he said, “Aight. How they look?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but... Guys? They’re kind of fucking amazing, okay? I’ve got a gift.” Jersey said in a fake Valley Girl voice. The guys laughed and continued along to their tent. Jersey sat next to Rook, leaning against him, and handed him one of the joints she brought, along with the lighter. Rook took it without question and lit it. As she tucked her feet under her, she opened the baggie of gummies and popped one in her mouth before passing it to Colson as he walked past. He looked through it before passing it down to Baze, who immediately popped two into his mouth, and Colson took the joint from Rook, taking a toke.

“Fuck yeah, man. Whose joint is this?” Colson asked, looking around at his group. Jersey smirked at him. Colson smirked and pointed at her, briefly. “Hell yeah, Sav. Come through. James send you some stuff from California?”

“Of course. But this is the stuff I got from Rosie out in Nevada, last time she visited her family.” Jersey said. Colson made a funny face and laughed as he took one more puff before passing it to the next person.

The next 7 hours went by like a blur of smoke, laughing, music, and food. Within the last half hour or so Jersey sobered up enough to lead her drunken herd back to the bus so they could make their way down to Reading for the next show. Once they cleared the gate and the rest of Colson’s crew, that wasn’t intoxicated, had them, Jersey skipped over to the bus and hopped on. She only had a few minutes before chaos boarded the bus again, as she knew the guys would take a while, sobering a little too much for their liking and needing a minute.

She hurried to her bunk and grabbed her stash, then went to the table, setting herself up, to roll a few extra joints with the kief she had left. By this point in the tour, Jersey had their routine down pat: By the time they all clamored onto the bus, Jersey had a joint or two lit, ready to be passed around. She had, by now, become more than just their photographer, supplying them with their first round of whatever drink each man asked for just so they could settle into relaxing a little quicker. Just as Jersey rolled the last blunt, she lit it as the doors opened and the drunk buzz of conversation climbed onto the bus. She smiled as Rook came to sit with her, going through her stash.

“Yes, Rook. Go ahead and take what you want.” Jersey teased, blowing smoke in his face. Rook snickered as he popped two gummies into his mouth with a wink.

“Thanks, cuz.” Rook said, quickly leaving the booth. Jersey shook her head as Colson entered the bus. He made a beeline for Jersey and the outstretched hand that offered the joint.

“Fuck, we need you here full time,” Colson smirked, taking a toke before passing it on.

“You think that now. We’re only 5 shows deep, babe.” Jersey laughed as she packed up the box, leaving two joints up for grabs. Colson chuckled and sat on the couch as Jersey stowed her stash back in her bunk before coming out and asking for drink requests.

Ever the hostess, even when she was a guest on the tour, she was a grateful one. Jersey made use of the one semester of bartending classes and slung drinks across the bus. Once each man had a drink in their hand, she went to sit next to Colson, who just got passed the joint. She waited until he took a hit, then plucked it from between his fingers and took a toke herself.

“Hey, so how was the show?” Jersey asked the room, it only just having occurred to her she never asked earlier. As she tried to decipher the loud, excited, and numerous answers, she shook her head and curled into Colson’s side, passing him the joint. “So, how was the show?”

This time, she directed the question to Colson, who put an arm around her with a chuckle, inhaling deeply before passing the joint.

“It was good. Dom was there. He came out for ‘I Think I’m Okay’. You just missed him when we found you. You should have come to this show, Savie.” Colson said. Jersey tried to hide the blush at the use of the childhood nickname he adopted from Rook. It was one that Papa Cap, Rook’s father, Johnny, gave her- ‘Savage’. Shifting in her spot, Jersey shrugged and said, “He’ll be in Reading on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Hope it’s the same energy, though.” Colson said with a chuckle, smirking down at her. Jersey gave him a look.

“They always have energy, Kells.” She teased, making Colson smirk.

“Baze, man, move your fuckin’ feet, you fuckin’ ogre!” Rook said, kicking at the feet that were propping Baze up between both couches. Baze smirked and said, “Man, go sit somewhere else.”

“I want to sit next to my cousin, bitch! Move!” Rook shouted with a smirk. Jersey practically crawled into Colson’s lap, sensing the impending fight between Baze and Rook.

“So, fuckin’ kick Kells off the couch, punk-ass bitch.” Baze shot back with a smirk. Rook swiped at him and Baze lazily dodged the playful punch.

“Don’t bring me into this, Baze,” Colson warned, his lips twisting up.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Colson! Punk.” Rook shot as he snickered. Colson smirked and threw his empty Solo cup at him. “Don’t fuck with me, Baker!”

“Come at me, bro. Nah, fuckin’ come at me, Rook. I dare you.” Colson said. Colson had Jersey’s legs draped over his lap and she was tucked under his arm, as her new high began to set in.

“Dooooon’t…” Jersey whined, softly. Colson tightened his arm around her as he grabbed the pillow next to him and started swinging at him. Jersey kept protesting, though her voice was drowned out by Rook and Colson yelling over each other.

Finally, getting a little too rowdy, not to mention the fact that Rook took four straight shots of vodka before the bus even took off after taking the two gummies, he stumbled while trying to rip the pillow from Colson. Jersey shrieked as Rook’s too topped off drink tipped a little too far. The contents of his cup spilled all over her, drenching her hair completely.

A brief hush fell on the bus, then Colson scooped her up as he stood, setting her on her feet. “Shit. Jersey, are you okay?” Colson asked. Jersey pushed his hands away and tossed her alcohol-soaked locks over her shoulder and grabbed at Rook, punching his shoulder.

“Fuck, Rook! What the fuck?!” She cried. Baze quickly stood and shuffled to the side as she shoved Rook aside, hauling ass through the divider to their bunks and into the bathroom. Back in the front of the bus, AJ and Slim had begun to mop up the mess as Rook stumbled to the booth and sat down.

“Fuck.” He muttered, softly. Colson sighed and patted his shoulder as he made his way to check on Jersey. Closing the divider behind him to give them a little more privacy, he leaned next to the bathroom door and folded his arms. He waited a while longer before he knocked softly.

“Fuck off, Rook!” Jersey spat. Colson snickered and said, “Do you think he’s dumb enough to come back here? Fuck; You think he’s brave enough?”

Colson heard a soft sigh, then the sound of the locks unlatching and the door opened, slightly. The glare from her burning green eyes all he saw, she said, “What?” The word came out a little harsher than Jersey intended. Colson leaned over a little more to look at her, raising an eyebrow at her. Jersey sighed and opened the door fully, tightening the towel around her chest as she gave him a look as well.

Colson bit his lip, trying not to snicker. In a fit, Jersey rubbed a towel over her face to get the drink off her face, and in her haste to get away from everyone, she momentarily forgot she was wearing makeup. Her eyes were rubbed black and her cheeks were red and stained with makeup streaked tears and droplets of the spilled drink.

“Want me to wait for you?” He offered. Jersey shook her head and said, “Just bring me shorts and a tank top.”

“Ooh-hoo. No panties? Naughty girl.” Colson teased. Jersey shot him a look and said, “Is this the time for jokes?”

“Sorry,” Colson said softly with a snicker, turning to go to her bunk and pull out her bag to rummage through it. Finding what she requested, he put the bag back and sauntered back over to Jersey, handing her the clothes. Jersey took them and gave him a soft ‘Thanks’, then gave him a once over before she finally broke a smile and said, “Did you really think I was going to let you rummage through my panties?”

Colson laughed, softly, as she shut the door. He sighed and waited until he heard the shower start to run, before going back to her bunk, letting his legs hang over the side and laid back on the mattress, pulling out his phone. Half an hour later, the shower turned off and Colson watched the door, listening to the rustling as Jersey dried off and changed. Just as Colson went back to his phone, the door opened and she finally emerged, dragging a comb through her hair.

“Really? Why my bunk?” She asked, hitting his knee with her comb. Colson chuckled and sat up, making room for her to climb in next to him. Turning to her, both Colson and Jersey ended up facing each other, sitting crisscross. Jersey broke again and let out a soft giggle and shook her head. She glanced away from him, looking out the window, and finished combing her hair.

Colson leaned his head back against the wall and watched Jersey as she massaged a dollop of Biosilk into her damp hair. He kicked out a foot to nudge her and said, “Hey. You okay?”

Jersey looked at him and gave a shrug, grabbing one of her pillows and wrapping her arms around it. “I’ll beat his ass later...I mean...I’ll be fine.” She said with a light smile. The corners of Colson’s mouth lifted up a little higher, glad she was able to joke about it.

“Hey. Come here.” Shifting over and closing the small sliding door of her bunk to lean against it, Colson held out a hand to her. Jersey smiled and propped up her pillows to make them both comfortable as she shifted to lean against him. Jersey pushed open the curtains to watch the Leeds skyline pass by and Colson shifted to prop up his right leg, resting his arm on his knee. His other arm was wrapped around Jersey’s waist, comfortably resting his hand on her right thigh. As Jersey rested her head on his chest, her hands covered his and she felt a soft kiss on her temple. With a bigger smile, still watching the lights pass by, Jersey said, “Thanks, Colson. You always find a way to make me feel better.”

After kissing her temple, Colson pressed his lips against her hair, lightly. When she thanked him, Colson smiled and said, “I try.”

Jersey giggled softly before a hush fell on them, if only for a brief moment. For the next 3 hours, as they drove from Leeds to Reading, Jersey and Colson talked quietly to one another about every random thing they could think of. Just before the got to the hotel, once they finally pulled into Reading, Colson and Jersey both emerged to the front.

All conversation quieted as everyone kept an eye on Jersey and Rook, Rook’s smile slowly fading as he looked up at his cousin. It was an awkward silence until Colson yelled, “Skrrt! Make yourself scarce!”

Jersey rolled her eyes as the boys all scrambled over each other and back to their bunks to give them some time alone to talk. Jersey chuckled as she made her way over to the booth and sat across from him. Reaching for the last untouched joint, Rook handed her a lighter. Jersey lit it and took a hit, then sat back, watching her cousin.

Cracking a smile, she said, “You do that shit again, John Paul, and I swear to God, I will beat you with your own drumsticks.”

Rook smirked and said, “I love you too, Savie.” Jersey smirked and watched him as he stood, standing when he came to her. The pair hugged and Rook kissed her cheek, saying, “I’m sorry, Jersey.”

“Aww!!” Jersey grabbed a pillow from the couch and turned to the boys, but Colson rushed her, catching her waist and scooping her up to carry her to the couch as the others bum-rushed Rook. Jersey cried out as Colson kept her pinned down, hollering at his boys to get Rook. Jersey shoved Colson off and shouted, “Get fucking bent!”

Rook managed to wiggle his way out of the huddle and over to the couches. Colson punched Rook’s shoulder as he passed him. The cousins settled as everyone else fell back into their usual last-minute shenanigans for the last half hour of the drive.

Once they pulled up to the hotel, they all clamored out of the bus, dying for some real beds and comfort. Checking into their suite, they all claimed beds, AJ and Rook fighting for the last window spot. Once the bed situation was solved, they bust out one last bottle of alcohol and had a little more fun.

Music played as they got into their usual shenanigans. Jersey sat with Baze and AJ as they talked amongst themselves, trying to ignore Colson and Rook as they tore around the place. Around 4 in the morning, Jersey tapped out and went to the other room, pulling the blinds shut and snuggling into the blankets, scrolling through her phone for a while longer. The door opened as she set her phone down, ready to go to sleep. She looked over as AJ walked in and over to his bags that sat on the bed he would share with Rook.

“Going to bed?” She teased, snuggling to get comfortable with a smirk.

“Nah. The Energizer Bunny twins out there are still going.” AJ chuckled, rummaging through his bag. He glanced at Jersey then to the door and said, “Hey. So, what’s going on with you and Colson, anyway?”

Jersey turned over and sat up a little more and said, “Going on? What are you talking about?”

AJ stopped and raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. “Well, after tonight...I mean, dude was gone for 3 hours. Y’all were in the bunks when he could have been out with us partying.” AJ said. Jersey pursed her lips slightly and said, “I mean, he was comforting me…”

AJ chuckled and sat on the end of her bed. “Nah, Sav, nah. I get that. We all do. Shit, Rook felt so bad he stopped drinking and smoking, till you came back out.” AJ said. Jersey added her own, “Not that he didn’t have enough shit in his system.”

AJ snickered and nodded his head a little, then said, “True. But I mean, when have you known Colson to voluntarily skip partying on the bus?”

Rook and Jersey had always been close, so when he joined up as Machine Gun Kelly’s drummer, she started hanging out with them when they were home in Ohio the same time she was or if they came through New Jersey. Because of this, she had gotten to know the guys a lot over the years. Thinking back, AJ was right. Unless it was an important reason or an emergency, Colson never missed a chance to party. With a shrug Jersey replied, as she laid back down, “Maybe he just felt really bad? I dunno. You’d have to ask him.”

AJ chuckled and patted her leg as he stood. “Aight, Save. Whatever you say, baby. Get some rest. We want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the show.” He teased. Jersey waved at him, getting comfortable again, and offered a soft, ‘Night. Have fun.’ Followed by a louder, “Don’t let those idiots kill themselves...Or each other!”

AJ tossed his head back and laughed as he closed the door. Jersey giggled and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep. If only for a few hours. When Colson, AJ, and Rook finally stumbled in, 2 hours later, Jersey let out a soft whimper at the disturbance and shifted under the blankets. Colson shifted Rook’s arm on his shoulder, trying to stand him up.

“You got him?” Colson whispered, taking Rook’s arm from around his neck as AJ took the weight in response and veered toward their bed, dragging the drunken drummer along with him. Rook suddenly started babbling, incoherent and loud. AJ swore under his breath and clamped a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Colson chuckled and shook his head as he tugged his shirt off and wiggled out of his pants.

“Shut the fuck up, Rook,” Jersey muttered, sleepily. Rook giggled and retorted back, “Why don’t you fuck the up shut...Wait...No, shut-”

“Goodnight, John Paul,” Jersey said, a little louder. Rook giggled as he slumped back on the bed. AJ took off his shoes and lifted his legs onto the bed. As Rook continued babbling in his drunk state and AJ quietly asked him to please shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Colson got in bed, slipping in next to Jersey.

“Y’all are fucking annoying. I get my own room next time.” She muttered, turning away from Rook and moving toward the sudden warmth with a shiver.

“You can stay in my room on the bus? Oof!” Colson offered, half teasing, but still earning a slap to his bare chest once Jersey reached him. She snuggled into his side and almost immediately fell back asleep. Colson chuckled and eased an arm around her and shifting to get comfortable, then drifted off to sleep.

The sudden, loud sound of the curtains being torn open woke Jersey and Colson with a start. Colson groaned and crossed his hands in front of his face, glancing down when he felt pressure and movement when he moved. He curled an arm around Jersey as she whimpered and pushed her face into Colson’s neck, trying to hide from the brightness.

Rook turned at the groans and smirked, “Well, good morning. Aren’t we cozy?”

“Fuck. Off. Rook.” Jersey said, her words muffled by Colson’s neck. Colson chuckled and glanced at her again, resting a hand on her arm as he gave her a quick squeeze before getting up. Jersey whined softly and slowly picked her way out of the sheets, yawning.

“Fuck, what time is it?” Colson asked, stretching with a yawn.

“Noon. We want to hit the pool. You guys down?” Slim said from the doorway, sipping his coffee. Colson shrugged as he scratched his head with a tired smile and said, “Shit. Sure. Why not?”

“Fuck. 12 O’clock? How long have you guys been up?” Jersey asked, reaching for her phone to scroll through her notifications, answering a few texts.

“Not long. We all slept the fuck in.” Slim said, laughing, along with Colson and Rook. Jersey locked her phone and looked up at Slim, taking a minute for the conversation to register before she giggled and smirked.

“Well, thank God for that.” She teased. Slim chuckled and caught Colson’s attention to start a conversation, allowing Rook to take his moment and slunk up to his cousin. “Cuddling up to Colson, I see?” He teased, lowering his voice as he sauntered up to her. Jersey gave him a look. He snickered and scooped up his bag to dig around for his swim trunks.

“Shut up, JP. Have you been talking to AJ? I’m gonna fuck him up if he’s-” Rook shushed her, gently, as he took a step closer and said, “Hey. Jers, what are you talking about?”

Jersey sighed and shook her head, moving his hands away. “Nothing. Nevermind. Don’t-Don’t say anything, Rookie, okay?” Jersey said, making her way to her bag. Rook shook his head and chuckled as he went to the bathroom to change. Jersey rummaged around in her bag before she gave a soft groan.

“What’s wrong?” Slim asked, still hanging out in the doorway. Jersey sighed and said, “I think I left my suits in my other bag on the bus. Fuuuck, I don’t want to deal with that…”

She pulled out a pair of leggings and a tank top, concealing a pretty pink and blue lace bra and panties. “You wanna hit the store?” Colson asked, with a laugh. When both Slim and Jersey looked at him, Jersey giving him a look, Colson said, “I fucking lost my trunks, bro. I must have left them in fucking Indonesia.”

Colson and Slim laughed as Jersey shook her head and smirked. “How do you lose those, Colson? They’re swim trunks.” She teased. Colson flipped her off as he grabbed a change of clothes.

“So, do you want to go get a new suit?” Colson asked as she passed by, spying Rook as he walked out of the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, she skewed her lips in thought. Finally, she looked at him, cracking a small smile and said, “Yeah. Sure. Why not? Maybe I’ll find something cute.”

Colson shot her a thumbs up and a smirk as Jersey giggled and closed the bathroom door. Slim waited until Rook walked out, before stepping more into the room and giving a chuckle as he said, “Kells. Could you want her more? God damn, bro.”

Colson gave him a look. “The fuck are you talking about, bro? Want her? It’s Savage.” He said, pulling on his jeans. Slim gave him an unamused look.

“Man, are you for real?” Slim scoffed. Colson rolled his eyes as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his deodorant and slipping it under his shirt to apply it. “Y’all are always cuddling and shit. Acting like y’all are in a relationship You like her, man.” Slim added another chuckle as he took another sip of coffee.

“Dude. She’s not my type.” Colson retorted.

“What? Hot?” Slim shot.

“A friend?” Colson shot back. “And she’s Rook’s cousin. It would be weird.”

“Bruh, he jokes about it as much as we do, Kells!” Slim laughed, shaking his head.

“Slim, if I actually started dating her, Rook would lose his shit. He jokes, but, like, if it happened? You’re telling me he wouldn’t be mad?” Colson asked, giving him a look.

“Who would get mad? About what?” Jersey asked, walking out of the bathroom and to her bag. The men exchanged glances as Jersey grabbed a hair tie and stuffed her wild hair into a messy bun. She looked between them, waiting for an answer, to which both men mumbled and looked away. Colson sat on the bed, tugging on his socks, and Slim shoved his coffee cup in his face and he turned and left the room.

Jersey shook her head and chuckled, dropping her sandals on the floor and slipped her feet into them. Grabbing her phone and wallet, slipping them both into the pocket on her thigh, she chirped, “Ready?”

Colson glanced at her and smirked. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He said, also grabbing his phone and wallet, the both of them heading for the door.

Next Chapter

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free!

@badwolf-in-the-impala @lovemythsworld @kellsfanficalltogether @mgkobsessed

#Machine Gun Kelly #MGK #Colson Baker #Rook #Rook Cappelletty #JP 'Rook' Cappelletty #MGK Fanfic #Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fic #Colson Baker Fic #Colson Baker FanFic

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augustmoon259 · 4 years

Text

For I shall already have forgotten you CHAPTER 2: AN END AND A BEGINNING

When Madeline was seventeen, her life began to go downhill.

Her father was a former smoker. He smoked often before meeting her mother. After meeting Madeline’s mother, and subsequently falling in love with her, he vowed not to smoke again.

He didn’t keep his promise.

Following the death of Madeline’s mother, her father picked up smoking again, but it was far worse. He drowned his sorrows in a bottle of alcohol and a pack of cigarettes daily. It took much effort from concerned friends to make him see the error of his ways. More than that, it was the guilt. The guilt that his daughter would grow up without a father. With the loss of his wife, and no other immediate family, he was the only one who could take care of his child.

So Madeline’s father quit smoking, for good this time. Unfortunately, no matter how much you try to outrun your past, sometimes it catches up to you.

Madeline’s father began experiencing a persistent cough that worsened as time passed. Sometimes he would have trouble breathing; other times he would cough up blood. After these continued bouts of coughing and chest pain, Madeline’s father scheduled an appointment with his doctor. The diagnosis confirmed the worst case scenario.

It was lung cancer. Specifically, small cell lung cancer. The x-ray scans revealed that the cancer was now in its extensive stage, meaning that the tumor had grown and the cancer had spread to other parts of the body. Treatment was possible, but Madeline’s father had a low chance of survival.

When her father broke the news to her, Madeline was devastated. Her kind and dependable father, the one who was always there for her, had cancer? Not just any cancer, but lung cancer, the deadliest of all.

Madeline’s father wanted his daughter to focus on her last year of secondary school. So she did, albeit with great reluctance. Madeline juggled school and sports while monitoring her father’s health. Her father would be in and out of the hospital frequently for his chemotherapy treatment.

Madeline tasked her magical friends with observing and taking care of her father while he was in the hospital, and she could not be there for him. Inkblot flew to and from the hospital, updating Madeline about her father’s current condition. Susan stayed with her father and made sure that he was sleeping or eating well.

Madeline was grateful for the presence of her friends during these troubled times. Ever since the first night she met him, Woodstock kept a constant vigil beside her while she slept. He made her feel less lonely on the nights when her father was at the hospital. Oggy was wrapped around her neck, as always, while she was at school. Sneak reminded Madeline to take care of herself and to not be overwhelmed by her emotions. She meditated and joined a support group for family members of cancer patients.

Months passed. It seemed that Madeline’s father was doing better after chemotherapy. His symptoms were less severe and he was discharged from the hospital.

The best gift Madeline could ask for was having her father at home with her on Christmas day. That was all she needed. Instead, Madeline’s father surprised her with a polar bear cub.

Not an actual polar bear cub. A stuffed one. It fit in her arms perfectly, with the softest fur and black marble eyes.

Madeline felt that something was still missing though. She wasn’t sure what until she saw her reflection. Madeline usually kept her hair tied into two pigtails, with a maple leaf clip on each side of her head.

The thing that was missing was an accessory for her new polar bear cub. With this realization, Madeline went to her room to search in her drawers. She found the object she was looking for: a pink flower-shaped hairpin. Madeline attached the pin next to the stuffed bear’s right ear.

There! A flower fit for a princess. Now you look the part, but what will your name be?

Madeline thought for a while.

Princess. Are there any names that mean princess? Hime? Miki? No...It’ll have to be-

“Kumarie!”

The name felt right for Madeline. She felt strangely nostalgic, as if the name (or something similar to it) felt familiar.

Madeline was grateful for her father’s gift. He knew that she had a love of animals, particularly birds, polar bears, and turtles.

The remainder of Madeline’s Christmas break progressed peacefully. She would remember those pleasant days, the calm before the storm.

The new year brought the cancer back with a vengeance. The same symptoms, along with a host of others.

To Madeline’s distress, chemotherapy had failed her father. Madeline’s father chose to undergo other forms of treatment, and when those didn’t work, he participated in clinical trials.

So the cycle repeated itself again. Winter turned to spring. February turned into March, which turned into April.

Madeline found herself alone more often at home. She found herself clinging to Kumarie as she fell asleep.

Eventually, treatment was no longer an option. Madeline knew that since her father was in the later stages of his cancer, he had little to no chance of surviving, but to hear her worst fears confirmed was heartbreaking. After Christmas, she had thought that things would get better.

Madeline could do nothing as her father deteriorated. All she could do was make sure her father’s last months were spent with no pain. Madeline made sure her father took his medication. She worked with medical and healthcare professionals to provide her father with the best hospice care. Madeline watched as her father began to lose interest in things that he used to enjoy: gardening, watching documentaries, bird watching. He slept more often and for longer periods each time. He had difficulty eating and drinking.

Her graduation came and went. Madeline was envious of her classmates whose family came to support them. She was alone once the ceremony ended.

In the last week of June, Madeline’s father became confused and delirious. When he looked at her, she could see in his eyes that he didn’t know who she was. The ache in her heart remained until the first day of July.

When Madeline was eighteen, her father died.

The two weeks following her father’s death were hectic. It felt like she was in a bubble, her mind elsewhere as her body focused on doing what was needed. Madeline contacted her father’s friends and told them about his death. She made arrangements for a funeral and proper burial. Madeline took care of the will, met with an attorney, and made a list of bills that needed to be paid.

As soon as all of this was done, the bubble popped. Reality set in for Madeline. Her father was gone. She would never hear his laughter again, or eat his cooking. No more hikes, or campfire stories, or stargazing. Gone was that consistent presence throughout her life, he who had always reassured her.

Madeline was lost. She was unsure what to do with herself, where to go from here. So she fell back into old habits. Madeline shopped, she did the laundry, she cleaned the house. Everything she did only served to remind her of her father’s passing: the foods he liked to eat, his clothes that were strewn about, antiques and other collectibles her father acquired during his life.

The garden was beginning to grow weeds. Madeline had taken care of it when her father was unable to. Now, she could not bring herself to do the same.

She distracted herself by watching movies, TV shows, anime, and Korean dramas. The thought of going outside and seeing happy people made her queasy. Why should the world not mourn with her? It was unfair.

Inkblot, Sneak, Susan, Oggy, and Woodstock. All of them were worried about Madeline. They wanted her to go out, talk with a therapist, and process her emotions. They knew that the way she was handling herself now did no one good, least of all her. Madeline rejected them. She said she was fine. She could handle it. They were overexaggerating.

Madeline continued like this for another month. It was August. By now, the weeds had completely overtaken the garden. Madeline felt guilty. Day by day she had watched as the weeds grew inch by inch. If her poor father could see his garden, he would be disappointed in her. After her father died, Madeline had also neglected to clean his room. The room might be dusty, but it was the memories it held that threatened to overtake her.

Madeline was cleaning the house as per usual, when she came to the door of her father’s bedroom. Madeline hesitated before opening it. The curtains were open, letting the sunlight spill in. She was correct in assuming the room would be dusty. Madeline vacuumed the floor, packed her father’s old clothes into boxes, and dusted everything else.

As she looked underneath her father’s bed, she found a chest. The chest was locked. Madeline searched her father’s desk drawers for a key. When she found it, she opened the chest. Inside of the chest was an old journal. It’s brown leather cover displayed signs of wear and tear.

Madeline opened the journal. Its pages were completely filled out. She flipped to the last page. The date of the last entry was the day of her seventeenth birthday, before things started to go wrong. Her eyes scanned the final journal entry:

MY DEAR MADELINE,

IF YOU ARE READING THIS, THEN I HAVE GONE.

I WISH I COULD HAVE STAYED WITH YOU LONGER.

BUT IT WAS NOT MEANT TO BE.

SO LIVE ON.

LIVE TO SEE THE JOYS THAT LIFE CAN BRING.

FOR SORROW DOES NOT LAST FOREVER.

Tears fell from Madeline’s eyes. The salty liquid stained the pages of the journal. Madeline hugged the journal close to her chest before her legs gave way beneath her. She sat on the floor in a crouched position, the journal lying discarded as her hands made her way to her face to wipe her tears.

The guilt came back full force. What was she doing spending her life like this when there was so much more out there for her to explore? In the wake of her father’s death, Madeline’s career as a photographer had been temporarily put on halt. She still earned money from her online store, photo prints, etc., but she had not been posting on her blog or social media.

It was in that moment that Madeline hardened her resolve to live her life the way she wanted to. She would travel the world and meet new people, just as she always dreamed of.

The pain would linger, for it never truly goes away, but it was no longer the only feeling in her heart. Madeline’s newfound determination fueled her.

The rest of the day was spent taming her father’s garden. Madeline did what she could to tame it for the day, but the weed killer would do the rest.

That night, Madeline rested in her bed, with Kumarie in her arms. Woodstock and Inkblot was perched on the headboard of her bed. Sneak and Oggy were hiding underneath the bed, while Susan was lying on the floor in a spare sleeping bag. The atmosphere was quiet and serene.

Madeline dozed off with a smile on her face.

Eyes fluttering open, Madeline yawned as her eyes blinked blearily. Her mind adjusted itself to the sight of her room and she saw all her friends wide awake and by her bedside. They were staring at her, or rather what she still held in her hold. Madeline shot them a questioning look until she felt the object of their focus move.

A startled gasp left her mouth as Madeline laid her eyes on a living, breathing polar bear cub. What?! What is this?! Kumarie is a stuffed toy! One that’s not supposed to be moving!

“Kumarie?!”

The bear gazed at Madeline.

“Who?”

“Kumarie, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

The redubbed Kumarie peered at Madeline before squinting down at its paws. After a pause, it concluded, “Yeah! My name is Kumarie.”

In the back of her mind, Madeline noted that Kumarie had a cute, high pitched voice.

There was nothing left to do but to take this new development in stride.

“Kumarie, do you like pancakes?”

“Yes!”

“Kumari” means “princess” in Indian, although it also means “cloudy” in Japanese.

For anyone who is a family member, friend, or themself going through a tough time due to cancer, my condolences. If you have lost a loved one due to cancer, my heart goes out to you. I tried researching and making the symptoms and stages of lung cancer accurate. Everyone has a different way of mourning or grieving, so I hope Madeline’s behavior does not come across as odd.

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wickedlittlesalem · 4 years

Text

We welcome ( SALEM NOVAK ) to this Wicked Little Town ! It’s said they look a lot like ( ANA DE ARMAS ), and are said to hold the ( SLAVE ) mark now. They tragically died from ( ALCOHOLISM ) at only ( 31 ) years old, but I think ( SHE ) will fit in well here in the end as they’re ( PANSEXUAL ). They’re really into ( NON-CON & HANDCUFFS ), but not so much into ( BATHROOM PLAY & OVERSTIMULATION ), which probably means they’re also ( ENGAGING ) and ( SELFISH ).

ok hi i’m liv and i’m so excited for this !!! salem’s an old muse i usually play as a social-climbing stripper with no morals, so this should be fun !!!

BASICS

Full name: Salem Katrina Novak

Gender: Cisfemale

Date of birth: March 12, 1988

Birth location: Phoenix, Arizona

Date of death: December 14, 2019

Death location: Some ritzy hotel room in Vegas.

Age: 31

Marital status: Single, once engaged

Family (living): Mom, dad, younger sister.

Mark: Slave.

PAST LIFE.

Salem grew up as the type of girl who followed every rule she could, always felt bad when she broke them

She was definitely popular in high school and had a boyfriend all four years (that she secretly cheated on with the potheads at her school, but no one ever found out)

After high school, Salem and her boyfriend moved in together and went to the same college

One day she realized that she was bored out of her fucking mind with him and her life so she pretty much just packed her shit and moved to Vegas

Salem had been a blonde her entire life and dyed her hair brown to signify her new life

This is where things went downhill fast for her -- she became a stripper and broke absolutely every rule

she fucked clients. she fucked them in the private rooms. and she fucked them for money. she also fucked the people who owned the strip club so she could keep her job.

This was the start of Salem being boldly promiscuous, pretty much fucking anyone she could and not caring about the consequences

She didn’t care who she hurt since she spent her whole life up until then caring wayyyyy too much about everyone else’s feelings

She did a lot of coke, smoked a lottttttt of weed, did a lot of hallucinogenics (acid, shrooms, etc.) and became an alcoholic

Which leads us to now! She definitely died alone in some room she spent way too much money on... surrounded by lines of coke and a giant pile of money. What a way to go, huh?

THE PRESENT.

Even though Salem rarely played the dominant role in her sexual encounters, the Devil still believed that she was prancing around the mortal world with the view that she was running shit and he wanted to knock her down a few pegs. Salem’s probably a power bottom or a brat, loves to talk shit and get punished. Her personality is pretty much like that, too, she loves to push people’s buttons and see what the fuck happens. She won’t necessarily fight or argue, but she loves to make people frustrated. She definitely has the kind of voice where it sounds like she’s trying to fuck anyone she’s talking to and... she usually is.

THE FUTURE.

Being claimed in any capacity is definitely one of Salem’s worst nightmares. She cannot be tied down ( well... ;) ) because it makes her cranky and grumpy and annoyed.

Kinks: handcuffs, blindfolds, nipple play, noncon, dubcon, rough sex, degradation, humiliation, name-calling, teasing, begging, face fucking. orgasm control/denial, dry humping, public sex, i don’t know if there’s a name for this but having to be quiet during sex.

Anti-kinks: bathroom play, overstimulation, foot play, blood play.

#wlthq!task001 #intro #yee i did it!!

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broadhurstblog-blog · 5 years

Text

A rough draft/timeline...

Once upon a time, I was a quiet child, who excelled in sports and could string together good sentences every now and again.

I received a certificate at the end of my first year in a boy’s secondary school in East Hertfordshire, by my departing English teacher called Ms Prole. It was certified that I was ‘Most Daydreaming Pupil.’

I was a child who lived inside his imagination, thought deeply about things. I had a fair amount of friends, most of them being at least two years older than me.

We would break into old bomb shelters, explore hard, found a small woods that contained concrete bunkers, and convinced ourselves we had discovered a secret, disused American airbases. I would go on long bike rides, often finding great secluded bodies of water that contained hard to catch fish. I played for a local bottom of the league football team, on often flooded fields that used to be paddocks.

Then something changed.My granddad died when I was twelve.Losing a wonderfully wise man whose wisdom I took for granted, well, it hit me really hard.My thoughts seemed to constantly focus on death.Over the course of the next year or so, my behaviour changed drastically, I became extremely undisciplined, argumentative, I got suspended from school on several occasions.With the help of an Educational Officer – psychiatrists and psychologists took an interest in me.After a few sessions with various medical professionals, my parents were informed with confidence that I had a condition called manic depression and that it was caused by a chemical imbalance/ deficiency of a salt in my brain.After being sure that my heart, kidney or liver was free from defects, I was prescribed Lithium Carbonate.

I took the medication most days between the ages of 14 and 18.

At first, my behaviour did not improve, and it was decided that I should spend time in an adolescent unit of the psychiatric wing of a hospital near St. Albans.

It was a very strange place, most of the resident children there were unwanted orphans I seem to remember.

A lot of the nurses were very heavy-handed in their restraint techniques, and doctors loved nothing more than to sedate those of us not willing to take part in various group activities.

The heavy-handed ways, the use of an exclusion room and the sedation syrup, for even the smallest of infractions – it makes me question the ethics and morals of some of the staff, but nothing I was privy to was against the law as far as I can tell. (There has been stories in the news recently about the police investigating historic abuse allegations, I can’t testify to being abused, but it certainly wasn’t the holiday camp that the staff tried to portray to my parents. Maybe the memories of that place would have been a lot worse without a father and mother looking out for me).

After a couple of months I was back to school.

I was the shadow of my former daydreaming self, but I no longer displayed as much unruly behaviour.

I had lost virtually all my friends, I was increasingly paranoid, socially withdrawn.

I was behind in my school work, and I wasn’t able to catch up.

By the time I was 15 I had the choice of resitting the year or joining another school out of the area 18 miles away, to be in the fourth form where nobody knew me.

So I opted to leave a pretty decent boys-only comp with a Christian ethos, to go to a mixed comp that used to be a grammar school, but which had become a third-rate egalitarian mess.

It is safe to say that I did not respond well to the lowering of educational standards. By the final term of my second attempt at being a fourth form pupil, I was ‘asked to leave’.

I left the school at the age of 16, without any experience of the fifth form. I went to the regional college for two years and completed a couple of NVQ modules in I.T.

I spent most of my college time in the library or playing basketball in the gym.

The point here is that I am not convinced I was mentally ill.

Maybe I was, but I do not think that medication/psychiatric treatment helped me.

The major thing that helped me become a less self-destructive force was *time*.

The death of a close family member really haunted my mind, and I did not know how to deal with it.

My childish poetry turned dark and very cryptic, unfortunately, the caring adults in my life who were interpreting my private words without my permission, they were totally off the mark in concluding that my prose was a sign of me being suicidal. I was certainly crying out for help, but my words were actually full of fear about death, not a single syllable expressed a desire to die.

I wasn’t sleeping much, and prolonged lack of sleep can affect behaviour a lot,

I stopped playing football,

I stooped going on adventures,

I stopped daydreaming.

Lack of exercise can cause serious problems, especially in a child who was once very active.

Add puberty to the mix. . .

I do not think Lithium was the answer to whatever was happening. And how did the medication affect the development of my fragile brain?

I guess that question is impossible for me to ever answer.

I was lucky to have a good family GP who was close to retirement, a doctor from an older generation who was in agreement with me that I would be better off without medication.

As soon as I was eighteen he helped me gradually decrease my doses until I was on the medication no more.

I lacked a lot of confidence, but had no problem finding work with the occasional kick up the backside from my father.

After running into a few dead ends, I eventually became a cellarman/barman in an unusually well run small family pub that was slightly off the beaten track.

In my mid-twenties I moved to Manchester with my licensee certificate in hand, but instead of running a pub, I ended up working in a mind-numbing call centre on behalf of a royal Scottish bank.

By the age of 30, I was a homeowner.

On paper, things seemed good. I heard from a reliable source that my parents were proud of me.

I was unhappy. The relationship with my supposed future wife was on the rocks. I was tired of being a battery chicken trying to get people into debt. I was drinking too much. I had put on a lot of weight. I think I might have been slightly depressed.

Then one evening there was a TV show on, presented by Stephen Fry, it was about living with Bipolar Disorder (The new name for manic depression.)

I think it was on at about the same time that the disability discrimination act came into force.

I was struggling with timekeeping and discipline at work.

Home life was not happy. I was a little drunk and somehow became convinced it was a good idea to talk about my ‘mental health history’ with my partner, and to my manager at work the next day.

Things went downhill very quickly from there.

I went to a doctor, got referred to a psychiatrist.

After a 30 minute consultation, it was decided that I had a mild version of ‘Bipolar II’ And Lithium Carbonate was being prescribed to me. It didn’t agree with me, and I abruptly stopped taking it. Bad idea.

I was a mess. After about 2 years I had split with my partner, mindlessly took my name off the mortgage agreement. I struggled to stay in regular work because of my erratic self-destructive behaviour. I was on benefits for a couple of years.

Eventually, I got a job as an assistant manager, in a betting shop of all places. It was an interesting few years, but working for a morally challenged employer can eventually take its toll on one’s spirit.

This is when I ‘gave up’. I would get a sick note from my local medical centre once a month, claiming I was depressed, etc.I started claiming Employment Support Allowance and Housing Benefit because of my supposed ‘disability.’.The money was more than enough to exist on as part of a house share in a diverse student area in south-central Manchester. At some point a cannabis smoker moved into the house I was barely existing in.It didn’t become long before an occasional toke turned into a regular habit. It took a year or so, but I eventually became undoubtedly mentally ill. I was not self medicating, I smoked weed because I enjoyed smoking it, I loved getting ‘high.’

My behavior gradually started changing for the worse over the course of about half a year. I went to doctors complaining of anxiety, panic attacks, insomnia etc. I told them about my cannabis habit too. The young funky doctor referred me to a young hip psychiatrist, who after 5 minutes of questions, decided that Quetiapine may be the answer to my woes. I wasn’t getting any better, and I gradually stopped taking the medication. I started smoking cannabis again.

I was under the influence of what I’ll call acute mania not long after reading ‘The Cameron Delusion.’ I am fortunate that was the last book I read before I became undeniably mentally ill.

At the height of my illness, it was like I was inside a vivid daydream like I was fast asleep and wide awake at the same time. It is hard to explain. I was aware I was ill though, I sought help. It was eventually decided I should be sectioned, and I disagreed, so a bunch of health workers accompanied by police officers came to my front door. One policeman with impeccable customer service skills informed me I would have to be restrained with cuffs for my own safety, and I was escorted into the back of a police van. The police chauffeured me to the hospital, where I became a reluctant resident/client in a locked ward for about 6 or 7 weeks.

I was forced to take a cocktail of 4 mind-altering drugs on a daily basis. A psychiatrist would see me for about five minutes, once a week. I was told after the sixth or seventh short consultation that I could be released under the condition that I carried on taking the drugs. A social worker visited me on two occasions in the two months after my release from the hospital. Assured I was taking the medication, the visits stopped. I didn’t mention to the social worker that I was gradually lowering the doses I was taking. Within days of the last visit, I had eventually weened myself of the medication completely. It took several months, but eventually, I got a job.

And I have been well, in full-time employment for about a year now, without any problems.

I don’t use cannabis anymore either of course.

And I haven’t knowingly talked to a doctor since my time in the hospital.Mind-altering drugs just do not agree with me.

#mental health #psychiatry #nhs #cannabis #lithium

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shilohwrites-blog · 6 years

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The First Time I Fell In Love

or: the first calm disaster of my life

a short piece of alexei mikhailovic kuznetsov

The first time I fell in love with a girl...I was fourteen years old and she was almost eighteen. It was an innocent naive love that as I got older progressed into something more, something rather...well I didn’t know how to explain it until recently.

We grew up on the same street in Brooklyn, NYC which is how I knew her and saw her so often. I liked to sit on the stone steps outside the apartment I lived at and feed pieces of my food to the parade of ants that would pass by my feet. I got my first taste for writing on those stone steps when I finally looked around and listened to the sounds of the city. And on those steps was when I met her for the first time at age 8. We’ll call her something normal and unidentifiable... Lauren.

Lauren was in the same grade as my older sister Valerie, both three years older than me and wanted nothing to do with a young brother who liked to feed the ants. She walked up to my stone steps in all her 11-year-old pride and asked if my sister was home to play. Now, if this was a book I was writing I would’ve froze on the spot and knew she was the one. But, this is reality and instead I didn’t even realize she was pretty and wanted to show her the ants congregating on the steps. She wanted nothing to do with my ant kingdom.

But, now that you know how we met I’m sure there’s things unsolved as to why it is I ended up feeling this way for her. It wasn’t until I had hit puberty and was going into high school that I started noticing her, seventeen and occupying our living room couch with my sister frequently. Over the years we had started talking. Not in a “we’re friends” way, but a “you’re more than just Valerie’s little brother.” I started to notice things about her that I to this day have not noticed with anyone else. Things about her personality, her morals, her life goals. She ended up confining in me a lot of hardships she had already faced in her life, stuff you only thought belonged in the movies or a shitty book. I noticed how she was a different type of beautiful. Not model beautiful, not a type of beautiful where everyone would look at her and say she was. But, she had features to me that made me find her beautiful. She had slightly crooked teeth and constant chapped lips, but I never saw that as a negative thing.

What also drew her to me was the fact she had told me about her life, told me stuff she didn’t just trust with anyone. I was young and didn’t know if the feelings I started feeling for her was love. I was fourteen, I didn’t know better.

It wasn’t until I was eighteen, finishing my last year of high school while she was off at college at a neighboring state that it hit me. We had spent the whole day together, now friends after a long “are we friends or?” stage where we were texting a lot but weren’t sure if it was cool to hang out without my sister. She’s always been someone I can hang out with where conversation and relaxation oozes off of me. I can be stressed and amped up, but instantly calmed down once I see her face. That was one of the things that got to me, how easy it was for her to calm the storms within me. She could never get me angry, would only have to do something once for me to listen to her, and was always supportive with what was going on in my life.

That’s why it hit me as hard as it did, after smoking weed and eating ungodly amounts of pizza. I looked over at her, she was laughing about something that wasn’t even that funny. But we were high so it was funny to us. She told me about the guys that would always treat her life shit, how those she cared for treated her life shit. And I found myself wanting her to know she deserved better, to be happy and for someone to treat her right. It was not as platonic as I thought, once I started imagining myself as the person she’d find happiness with...it was downhill from there.

For a whole year I thought about it, but I didn’t say anything because I thought it would be weird. I wrote countless short stories where she and I were able to come together and be in love, but stories are just stories. As time went on, it dawned on me that I needed to tell her. Not because I was hoping to try things, but because I needed for her to know and to get it off my chest. She had been feeling down about love, that she’d ever find it.

So I told her, July 2017 that I was in love with her and had been for five years. Mostly to get it off my chest, but also that she’d know that someone else would love her because I already did.

Although there was a shred of hope in me that hoped she would feel the same, I got the “you know, you are more like a brother to me.” That’s right, I got brother-zoned. Served me right for being her close friend’s brother, she associated me as being one of her siblings. What really got me mad was that she had said, “we know each other too well.” Maybe if we hadn’t been neighbors or my sister wasn’t friends with her...maybe then? It kept me up for a while brooding, even after the fact she had told me she doesn’t feel the same way.

It’s been two years since that incident, luckily she and I are still as close as we were. If this was a book, it would end with her realizing that we could make something beautiful from our connection. We’d date, fall in love, live happily ever after. But, life isn’t a book...it’s harsh reality. Just because you love someone and it seems like it should work, doesn’t mean it well. What Lauren and I have seems like a huge romance trope, one you see in a novel. Think about it... a young kid falls in love with his older sister’s friend and they share many close moments together. You’d think we would end up dating, but she really has never had feelings back. We haven’t kissed, hugged more than platonically, anything. That’s just life.

I’m a writer, I always chased the happy ending with her. I wanted her to look my way, to change her mind. But novels are fiction for a reason, that stuff doesn’t happen often. She never chased me, we never made our happy ending like at the end of a book. But, this isn’t a book that I could write. This is life and I lived it.

Your first love isn’t going to be a happy thing, sometimes it’ll be a unrequited let down. It will end before it started, since she and I have never and will never have a shot at it. But, I really don’t regret her being my first love. She was far more than I could ever ask for in someone and I’ll use her example to build a path for whoever I’m with. First loves help you learn about yourself. What you want...or what you don’t want in someone.

A lot of people have been asking for me to share more about me, so here’s something personal I wrote and am now sharing.

#yes my first name is actually alexei not shiloh #my parents are russian don't ask #my writing

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hawlettservices · 3 years

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The Profound After Effects Of The Marijuana Weed

I am aware what you would like, you wish to be totally free of the restriction that Marijuana puts around you. I'd been exactly the same until I learned the right method which finally, after 8 years allowed me to conquer my love hate relationship with Marijuana. The truth is for many people smoking is something at first built them into feel happier, more enjoyable and the other which had been fun. However it doesn't take long for the fun to completely disappear and ultimately we very often realize the lives aren't what they have to be. A lot of smokers (including myself) wind up unhappy using what their life is now, but that's where the problem generally seems to be.https://www.weedmegood.com/vape/ I'll use myself just as one example. Before I discovered the best style of marijuana addiction treatment I'd been very unhappy with my life. I'd major anxiety, depression and was thousands in debt. I kept thinking "how could this have happened?" It took me quite some time to achieve that playing started getting worse a day or two after I started smoking Marijuana. Wow...all this due to Marijuana? Could It Really Be The Cause Of All My Problems? Yes it could. Take it from someone with quality experience. I smoked Marijuana for 8 years, after the thc oil cartridges shipped anywhereyear living started going downhill. I managed to quit smoking Marijuana once I learned what precisely I would need to do as a way to quit and after about 6 months I looked back at just how much things had changed. Within 6 months I had a fair job nationwide thc vape shipping paid a decent amount of greenbacks, I'd new friends that had been 'normal people' and in actual fact went out, instead to stay in enabling high all day. I became getting debt relief and starting hobbies that I've wanted to try and do for many years like Martial Arts and exploring gym. That's when I realized the amount life had changed and this was only the beginning. 8 numerous smoking and 5 a great thc carts for sale bulk of depression, 6 months without Marijuana and living was good again. It's still not perfect but I'm happier than I've lots of people and I NEVER planned to smoke Marijuana ever again. I am Steven Knightley and I smoked Weed heavily for upwards of seven years. I realize precisely how badly it might effect people and even help as numerous people stop smoking Weed as I can. I studied everything I may find to help me quit and today I'd choose to show you everything I found out for the reason that time-in the best concise form possible. It may possibly all change in a day-the day you stop smoking cigarettes Weed!

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tornadoghost · 7 years

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My Depression

It started in my second year of middle school I think. I hadn’t noticed it because I had so many friends and everything was fine yet I started feeling different than normal. I had thought it was puberty at the time and it was so small at first that I could ignore it. It wasn’t until high school and things started going downhill that I realized something was wrong with me, yet I didn’t know what. I should probably explain here that when I was growing up I had never heard anyone in my family talk about problems. If something was wrong they would keep quiet about it so I thought sharing things that that was taboo. Now i’ve grown up and I still have that fear of nobody wanting to listen to my problems or even care about them, even if I didn’t have the fear I don’t quite know how to say what i’m feeling, that was also a taboo in my mind. So thinking this I never told anyone. People say high school is hell and I’d say they were right and i’ll explain why. Middle school I started with a group of about 7 friends and the first year of high school 3 left so we were left with a group of 4, it includes me so I guess it made 5. One of these friends decided they hated me in the beginning of the year, she used to be my best friend, yet stayed in the group for the first year. The second year they betrayed another of the group and also my new best friend, I had gotten close to them quick after that person started hating me, and that’s how our group became 3. It didn’t stay 3 for long because about a month after that the 3rd member decided to betray me and cozy up with the one that hated me. During the first year I had made a friend in chorus class and since we only had 2 people left and I knew my best friend would like her I introduced them. Things started going back uphill for a while. Then my cousin who had moved when we were younger and were close decided to move back. Our group became 4 and I thought I could finally be happy again. In my third year We added a few more people to our group of girls, 3 boys, one of which was my best friend’s new boyfriend. Before I forget to mention, throughout high school I had an on again off again boyfriend, one of those guys who have dated everyone and had sex with as many girls as he could in the school before you and would break up with you 2 weeks in the relationship, go to another girl, then back to you just because you wouldn’t sleep with him and had to try again. I had thought I liked him but now I realized that I needed someone to make me feel like I mattered to someone and learning that made me hate myself even more. Nothing bad happened my third year so i’ll spare you the details. The last year of high school was the worst. Two of the boys graduated, one who was my best friend’s boyfriend, and my friend from chorus, she would visit occasionally and it was so fun. Though it went wrong after she got too busy to visit anymore, about the second half of the year. My cousin and best friend decided I wasn’t good enough to be in their group anymore. So me and a friend, that wasn’t in the group and haven’t mentioned before, started skipping most of our classes together. She introduced me to the world of weed and cigarettes. Though my parents smoked cigarettes I had never tried them. While skipping class we went to a few spots and smoked both. After she needed to go to class to graduate I had to leave the school. She had a group at lunch that I didn’t want to intrude on and the on off boyfriend got expelled for molesting the girls in the school. I had to leave school because I couldn’t stand the rest of the school year being alone all day. I know this makes me weak but i’d break down every morning before school not able to handle the day and begged my parents to not make me go to school anymore. That took a few weeks to do so while I had to go to school I was surrounded by so many people having fun and laughing while I sat alone with headphones on. Music helped me but since I couldn’t listen to it during class it couldn’t help me then. Being alone like that I found I had not only depression, which was found out and after my parents seeing something different with me was prescribed anti-depressants in my second year, but anxiety as well. I couldn’t handle the classes and the stress of having nobody to talk to.

The depression itself I can explain next. My sleeping schedule is horrible, I feel tired all the time. I don’t sleep enough, too much, or the perfect amount and no matter what i’m still so tired. Sometimes I could get out of bed feel fine and dandy and not tired and it was a miracle, yet others I struggled to get up, those are the days i’m still tired no matter what. Some days I just had a sudden calmness, nothing could make me sad and yet nothing could make me happy. I had tested this and it scared me. I took a video that I loved and would make me unable to stop laughing and watched it on one of those days. I couldn’t even smile. The next good day I watched it and it was the same as my very first time watching it, I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. The days are like a roller coaster, one day I laugh at just about anything, the next I can’t stop crying and I can’t come down stairs because I can’t let my family see me cry, the day after that I just have that calmness, another anything can set me off and I get so mad I can’t stop myself. I don’t know what days will be what, they mix and match and sometimes it’s two of them at once. I could also have three days of happiness and then the next is extreme anger at everything. The necessities of living become a chore to do. Needing water becomes one sip if my throat hurts too much to breath or swallow. Eating is nothing or everything I can get my hands, it even sometimes depends on if I have enough energy to get up and feed myself.

My parents get worried and I told them something small. I had asked them to get me a quick snack while they were up because I was hungry from not eating the day before and half of that day, I hadn’t told them I didn’t eat and they thought I had my meals, my reasoning was I was too tired to get up and while they did what I asked I also got a lecture on how young I am and need to get up and do things like that myself. While I understand what their saying and the knowledge that they have no idea what i’m going through is running through my head it hurt.

I’ve had four therapists so far, the first was the school one, She was amazing and I loved her but before I got too far in telling them about my ex friends she got fired and was replaced by the second one, who did not care one bit about anyone but herself. The third one I wasn’t ready to go to since she was the specialist, the type that doesn’t work at a school. The last one decided I was too much of a mess after a few times and I had only told her about my school problems. Before I left the third one there was an appointment where my mom came in. Again, she knew about the school part because it was the only thing I could tell anyone without going into detail about myself. That was the day I realized though she cares about me, so much so that she cried, I can’t tell her more because it will just cause her pain. Telling my dad ANYTHING just feels taboo because in his mind depression doesn’t exist. How could I tell them that everyday I think about dying or hurting myself? That sometimes at night I lay awake thinking how much better they’d be if I were dead or never born. That the only reason I haven’t commited suicide is because i’m too much of a COWARD to. That I KNOW what i’m thinking is so messed up and yet I can’t STOP. That I wish I could be a daughter that they could be proud of and not this DISGUSTING DISAPPOINTMENT. That I won’t kill myself because I know the’d HATE me because if the think how selfish suicide is and how that would make me selfish. That living is so HARD for me and how i’m so PATHETIC and that if I were to even scratch the surface of the thoughts in my head to someone they’d lock me up and throw away the key.

They say the scars on your arm from yourself are there to show that you were strong enough to get past that point. When I look at mine I think that I should have done it where nobody could find them and when I see a razor I wish I could pick it up and continue, but I can’t because no matter how low I get I can’t break a promise. I know I still am at a really low point, that I still do these things because I can’t help it. I hope that one day I can look in the mirror and not think “I look horrible, i’m too fat, not pretty enough, my nose is too big, my eyebrows are too weird, my stretch marks are ugly” I want the day that when I look in that mirror I can mean it when I say “I like myself”.

I know there is more that I haven’t said but this is all I can get out. I’m posting this not because I want comments, but because I want you to know that you are not alone. I know it’s hard to accept that, heck I still don’t. I want those of you out there that are reading and thinking “I don’t want to live” to do something you love right now, find someone to be with, you don’t have to tell them why just be in the same room, find some random video on youtube you’ve never seen before and just watch them until you smile. You don’t have to do this but at times like those no matter how long it takes you will feel better, if only for a little while.

#depression #mentions of suicide

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xansoverall · 5 years

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It’s time for me to stop.

I had a fairly close talk with Abby, my best friend, yesterday. I told her the truth about my traumatic relationship with the previous owner of this Tumblr.

She told me about 12-Step which I need to look into. I’ve been using literally every day. I haven’t had a 100% sober day in so long that I don’t even remember what one is like. Even on the phone with Abby, while she was talking about sobriety, I was coked the fuck out. And I feel HORRIBLE about that.

I never imagined my life would take the direction it did one year ago. I was doing great, I just got out of High School(Which was a miracle by its self, with my ADD and all) and had a few friends to talk to every day. A few months later I’d get my first job at Walmart and I was a damn hard worker. I barely even smoked weed and when I did, it was with a friend or two who enjoyed smoking(I personally don’t like getting high all that much, I feel lethargic when I’m high). After the christmas season, I started disliking my job, mostly because of upper management. It eventually evolved into full-blown depression somewhere around late February.

When I met katie(March 25th, 2019, I still haven’t forgotten the date, nor the encounter), I honestly never felt happier. It was like I finally found my drug of choice, something that legitimately gave me a reason to exist beyond just trying to stay alive another day. Something to look forward to when I woke up every morning.

Quickly that faded away as I began to see Katies’ problems as my own. When she broke up with me the first time, I didn’t believe that she wasn’t in love with me because of her, I saw it as me failing to make her happy and content with life. I tried to stay friends with her, for her sake and mine. I felt empty and needed someone to be there for me but it felt like she was the only one who truly was. I couldn’t wrap my head around that so I started taking LSD fairly frequently.

On May 12(?), I got fired from Walmart due to faking hours by adjusting my punches literally every single day. It was my own fault for getting fired, I cannot deny that. After that, I was miserable and I’m sure Katie knew that. I don’t even remember when we started dating again but that’s when not even our relationship was safe from my Depression. Somewhere along the way, my brain stuck one tiny, tiny thought in my head: She was cheating on me.

It was all downhill from there. Not a single day went by when I wondered what she was doing or where she was. I used the Snapchat Map to keep tabs on where she was going. One day, I saw she went to a place in elgin that I’d never seen her go to before, which only made my thoughts worse. She must’ve picked up on it somehow because she turned it off shortly after. Every day after that was filled with misery as every thought that came to mind was her cheating on me. I started smoking more and more often just to forget what I was thinking about. I put on a nice face around my friends and family but there was no happiness to be felt.

I don’t remember when she broke up with me the second time, either. I guess my mind is very good at repressing bad memories. Regardless, I hit rock bottom here. I was high all day, every day. Abby went to rehab and I was left feeling more lonely than I ever had before. I was looking for something harder all the time. Anything to get me too fucked up to think, much less remember anything. I bought 100 tabs of Etizolam telling everyone “Oh, it’s just to help with my anxiety while I’m in college,” fuck no it wasn’t. All I wanted was to be numb and I hoped that it would help. Instead, I had a few nights where my friends would come over and get fucked up with me at my house. Including Katie. The etiz didn’t last longer than a week and I forgot pretty much the entire previous month of pain and suffering I went through with katie.

Then she told me she was getting kicked out of the place she was living. That was a total lie. I later found out that Jim(the person she was staying with at the time) had not told her to move out, he told her that she needed to get her life together. Regardless I, without hesitation, offered to let her live in my room with me. She was more than happy to oblige as I’m thinking it was her goal all along to do so. The first week was fun, we dropped acid, fucked, ect. Since neither of us had jobs(She got fired from both jobs, it’s unknown to this day why she got fired, maybe I should look into that), we were together 24/7. At first this was great for me, I’d finally gotten what I wanted- a truly close relationship with her. And then, a few days before her period, she turned into a completely different person. I thought it was just PMS and didn’t say anything to her about it. Then she basically shut down as a human being. She wouldn’t make an effort to make food for herself, or vocalize her hunger to me so I never knew when to cook for her. She stopped showering(She went an entire week without) or taking care of herself in any way. She didn’t react to physical contact(Wouldn’t hug me, kiss me, or anything else) and in general didn’t really acknowledge my existence unless she wanted something. After a while, she stopped responding to my “I Love you’s” and when so far as to tell me “Yeah, yeah I know you do” once. Nothing on earth could prepare me for that. Not even the physical abuse such as hitting me for no clear reason could possibly amount to hearing that phrase, I’d rather have my hand cut off with a dull file than hear that again.

Then, when I thought the worst had come and gone, she made plans to go to Missouri without telling me about it. 4 days before she left, I found out. She seemed uptight about going but wanted to see her family so I was as supportive as I could be about it and tried to help her pack. She got there and everything was fine, she was having fun, her family wasn’t being a bunch of assholes to her which was great to hear as they thought she was doing a lot more drugs than she was. She told me she loved being around family and wanted to live up there with me. Then, the next day, she texted me and told me she didn’t love me and that she was staying in Missouri. I died a little because I thought this would happen but doubted that possibility since she left almost all of her belongings in my house. I was wrong. She chewed me up and spat me out.

I need to stop using for my own sanity. I’m feeling better since the breakup but the habits have persisted. I’m back to smoking weed like I used to, only with friends but I’m still using the harder things such as coke. I don’t feel as though it’s helping what I jeed it to help anyway, it’s just soley for fun. Addiction is not fun, therefore Cocaine is not either. Nor is anything else. And nothing else will help fill the void that katie left either. I just need to accept that and get sober.

To abby, if youre reading this- I’m sorry for being such a fuck-up that I can’t stop even for long enough to talk to you about sobriety.

To katie, if youre reading this- you’ve left me with extreme emotional trauma that will likely take me years to get through. I thought you were better than my previous girlfriend but it turns out you were just as bad as her. You didn’t care about me in the slightest. When I asked what made you love me the third time we dated, you didn’t give me a good answer, you told me it was because I gave you a place to stay meaning you wouldn’t have cared about me if I had nothing to offer you. You’re a true sociopath, just like Victoria. Clearly, I’m just a sociopath magnet who’s so easily manipulated that I was happy to let you do it to me.

I’ll add more to this post later on down the line when the repressed memories come back slowly but surely. I’ve already started getting them and I’m sure more with come with time...

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icharchivist · 7 years

Text

Sooo here we go another hxh seance!

(again, Her = A., Him=T.)

We watched from Colt’s birth to the King’s birth, we stopped mid episode on that latter.

-They definitly find the CA arc far more intense so far, and consider it already went downhill. I quote “Children are dead, the queen is losing control over her soldiers, the soldiers are losing control between each other, Ponzu and Pokkle seems to handle the situation so far but it won’t seem to last, and on Kite’s side they are doomed to go downhill because Gon is with them”

-They are still thrown out that none of the other three (Kurapika, Leorio and Hisoka) are in there. They think Hisoka would have fun being part of his own, while they actively argue that Leorio would be the only one with common sense and with some survival instict he could help the other with.

-A. Wants a showdown between the Ants and the Troupe and T. wants a showdown between the Zoldyck and the Ants.

-When it comes to the Troupe i find absolutly hilarious that they barely remember their names but remember Feitan, Chrollo, Machi and Shal at least. Nobunaga is also one of the name they remember but they keep stumbling on it. Meanwhile, I mentioned Phinks at some point and A. didn’t remember who I meant so i said “the guy Kurapika hang off the phone to” and she was “aahhhhh yes, his real impact on the serie.”

-They want Hisoka to show up, just because at least, there’s worse than him in front of them, and regardless of who gets hit, you will cheer anyway. They argue Hisoka’s only quality is that at least he’s the only one to be like himself.

-They called Kite “Legolass” or “The Guitarist” during the full episodes. They love his weapon system.

-They were really grossed out by the ants we met in NGL.. They are cheering to see the Koala again.

-*when Gyro’s backstory started* “Gyro killed his dad.” A: “Well that was completely for free *the backstory happens* A: “ye nah he deserved itn is hxh having a contest for who is the worst dad?”

-They expect Gyro to come back and play a bigger role later.

-When Killua, Kite and Gon fought against the ants from the Lion’s team, Gon’s way to destroy the ant had A. go “this kid scares me”.

-As Pitou appears: “wait so Killua with Cat Ears is an actual character and a villain?”

-They were disgusted by Ponzu and Pokkle’s death. A. especially dislike when you kill couple, so she was upset. They found it really terrible

-When Pitou attacked Kite, they were horrified, but they cheered on Killua’s reaction, they considered it was best to do this this way.

-They were really glad Gon was asleep when Morel started talking to Killua about what they should have done, as they think it would be the kind of things to encourage Gon on a bad path

-When Gon woke up after the Kite attack and immediatly thanked Killua, T. jokingly said “but no homo”. But as the scene kept going, when Killua started to look at Gon the way he does, they went “oh.... he has it bad....” and as soon as he started the “You are Light” sequence, A. actually stood up and grabbed T.’s arm as she went “oh no this is ways too cute!!” T: “Killua is actually in love there oh my god” A: “So this is serious Killua is!! really in love!!” They are not exactly the shipper style, they don’t make shippy comments a lot, and a few times before, they did comment on how Killua looking at Gon was sweet, or how some scenes were really sweet between them and joked a little about it. But there, they were reacting really seriously to the scene, and A. even confirmed “Here I completely see what everyone is talking about when they say Killua is in love with Gon”. I’m s o g la d

-They are not sure if Kite is really dead or no, but they are worried of Gon’s reaction if he comes to learn about it considering how determined he is to save him.

-They are glad Bisky is back!

-They don’t really know what to think of Palm yet, she scares them. They find it neat though that she’s supposed to be an ally while her design is frightening and that say, Hirn, the girl staying at Hyaga’s side, looks super cute while she’s an enemy.

-But they fell in love for Knuckle when he started to cry when Gon and Killua went to fight them, and when they saw all the dogs around him.

-Meanwhile the first reaction while seeing Shoot was from A: “He has no eyebrow.....”. They laughed when they realized he was scared to fight the kids but were feeling pity for him. Meanwhile his power kinda scares them.

-Before the fight against Knuckle, there was a huge conversation about “how can you guess when you put 50% of your strength in your blow, how can you be sure you didn’t put 70% or something”. Once Knuckle’s power was revealed, they couldn’t stop laughing.

-When Shaiapouf appeared, T. went “oh but he’s pretty though, like, he’s kinda cute.” while A. went “this is going to be so troublesome” and I still laugh about it.

-They are really glad to see Netero fight. They say Morel’s fighting is to Smoke Weed while Knov’s is basically Portal.

-They consider Killua to be the most rational when it comes to fighting, but Bisky’s lessons about it made them a little reconsider, and they worry a lot for Killua since then. A. made notice tho that she had the same mindset as Killua when it comes to his reasoning in case of trouble.

-They find Bisky’s way to encourage him understandable but not appropriated and it would just hurt Killua more. When he reacted to Bisky’s “you’ll let Gon die”, T. went “Look at his face it’s too painful for him to hear”

-Also when it comes to Killua’s mental health, A. is getting more and more worried because she realizes what Killua is going through but he never adresses it, and so now, it makes sense it’s adressed, but since he keeps it quiet it makes it even more painful to see.

-The King appeared finally and A. Freaked out because she sees my blog and was sure he was an ally or a good guy, so she seriously didn’t expect him to be a villain, and even less to just kill his owns in the begining. Peggy’s design and the Turtle’s design had been cracking them up since the begining of the arc, so seeing the two of them die horribly had them yell a “oh no!”

-”Please stop killing children why is that happening”

-They thing that there will be a King’s supporter group and a Queen’s supporter group, but we only reached to the moment Colt came to ask for help, and they were just starting to realize a lot of the ants were ready to leave and create their own kingdom.

-We didn’t watch the end of the fights against Shoot and Knuckle yet. A. is hoping Gon won’t pass because she’s scared of what awaits them in NGL.

So as a conclusion, they liked it but are kinda grossed out by the events. They like the new characters for the most part and they still have a lot to see.

We reached up to episode 91, which is so impressive considering they didn’t want to start the serie at first because they thought it was too long and they weren’t used to get into long series like that; But they enjoy watching it.

They are REALLY missing Leorio though and they often bring him up as for how he would probably make sense of the situations at hand in a way that wouldn’t put anyone in danger, and I love them when they do that, I love how much faith they have into Leorio.

So ye that was neat o/

We’ll see more laaatterrr

#ichablogging hxh2011 #ichatalks about hxh

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kushenthusiast-blog1 · 4 years

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My biggest regret: I am a cheater

I just ruined my relationship with my mother because I didnt like how she was speaking on your name.

I had just lost a best friend.. You were all I had.

School ended and so did we..well not really but that's how it seemed. I was the least of your worries and it was obvious. I hadn't seen you for over a month.

Got tickets to that concert in hopes that I could finally see you. And you wouldn't go.

So I decide to go with some friends.

(Now that it comes to me; Before my relationship with my mother and the passing of my brother, I wasnt into drugs, never would do anything but smoke some weed.)

Then it was all downhill once I felt like she had left me. What am I supposed to do? I had trust issues. I got a lot of shit wrong in my head..And you abandoned me..

I found peace in the presence of my peers and you despised it. You could stand I was finding my peace somewhere other than you.

So the night of the concert you all of a sudden gotta get rushed to the hospital for uterus complications. While I'm out of town. You knew I was out of town. And all of a sudden, boom.

How can you even lie about something like that? To make me feel horrible for not wasting my money? I still don't get it.

That night I stayed with some friends. Had a little bit to drink, had been smoking all day. Went to bed pretty early

If I wanted to truly cheat, I could have that night because I woke up to a friend(female) in the bed with me but under her own covers and clothed. Shrugged it, went on with the day.

Since I woke up feeling great, I rolled with them for the day. And time went on. You not bothering to see me. At this point youre being shorter and shorter by the day. Obviously pushing me away.

I got to a few parties just to be around my friends cause that's what their doing. You hate it, you couldnt't stand me finding some sort of dopamine. Eventually I decide to get fucked up at one of these parties because who tf cares at this point. Not the one person I thought always would.

That night I fucked up... I cheated.

I wouldn't talk to you..I ducked everybody associated with you so you wouldn't find out..I felt horrible... But I also felt abandoned..so I didnt know what to do..I eventually told you two days later after you caught me at a party when I was "sleep"..

I should have followed through with ending it right then and there..but you asured me wed work around it. We were stronger than this...

I get a job finally, landscaping. You see money coming in and you buck back up. Texting me heavy and then finally I get to see you on a job. I mean I can see your house from the job sight, wanna bring me a drink? 10 minute visit. Then back to ghost.

1 Months later

You start going to your grandmas during the day with your little sister.

That day I find out.. I found out about your ex..

You freak out because you thought you'd get away with it and you decide to come see me.

I go break my hand on a fence while waiting on you to show, and some people I thought of as "best friends" came rolling up seeing I I wanna go ball. And I tell them I'm good and fill em in.

She shows up, gets her way.. Greif keeps me into staying.. But little did I know..

One of those friends that rolled up on me, I grew up with was in hard times and needed a place to stay. I let him in. My own room, had to share a bedroom with this nigga.

Somehow I end up getting her pregnant soon after she manipulates me into staying.

One morning a few weeks later, he leaves his phone unlocked while playing a game.

I see your name in the message list.

I grab his phone, read the messages and then read the other "friends".

You had been cheating on me whole time with the other "best friend" that rolled up on me that day I found out about your ex. Ironic right. What do I do? Immediately get dressed and walk my ass up in the school just to pull you out of class and see what the fuck was up.

You assured me nothing happened, y'all was just talking. You are so fucking manipulative. I fucking believed you bitch..

You lost the baby..

Then you left me..you couldn't get over MY cheating..

One year later..

Of course. I cant get over the bitch...

She was my first..First love and first fuck.

I'm working at a factory now. And for some reason I reach out.. We talk for a few weeks about how we miss each other. Or so I believed.

The people youre living with are leaving for vacation soon and you need a place to stay while their gone..of course, I let you in.. Like everyone I love..

That week was a dream of the me from when we wrre originally happy...

It was great.. I fell right back in love with one kiss...

Then one day soon after you left my houze...i just wake up to a "I'm breaking up with you, go kill yourself"..

How do heal from this??

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reclusive-nerd · 5 years

Text

Working on a new fan fic! I hope to keep this going.

I'm gonna work on this new fanfiction, but I need motivation to keep going. All comments are appreciated and anything to help motivate me to keep going would be great. Let me know what y'all think. Here's the first chapter.

Obstacles

Blue eyes looked out a small window, faded, dirty, but clear enough to see. The grass isn't green, there are spots of weeds and brown dying patches. The asphalt walkway is full of cracks and potholes, with a broken fence along one side. The cars in the parking lot to his left are run down and cheap, each one a little older then the next. The outside area on his right is in full sun with all of two picket tables and a single basketball hoop. Even the street leading to the parking lot is cracked, and run down. It's like the whole block is falling apart piece by piece like legos and everyone just seems to ignore it. This is the only place his family can afford though. Better something than nothing, as his family says all the time.

He sighs, adjusting his seating position so he can wrap his arms around his legs. Letting his fingers fiddle with the plastic bracelet on his left wrist. His heels digging into the chair to keep from slipping.

One more night. He tells himself. Just one more night, then I can go home. But is home really much better?

“Hey Castiel,” a familiar voice comes from behind, Dr. Pamela, his most recent therapist. “I just wanted to check in on you before you're released.” Pamela sits down across from him, placing a clipboard on her lap.

They sit in silence for a minute, looking out the window. “Castiel? I need you to talk. How do you feel about leaving?”

“Grateful.” Cas says in a low growl.

“I need more than one word answers honey.”

“I just want to go home. Get out of here.”

“Okay. But how do you feel getting released? You've made great progress, it very well could be the last time you have to be here.”

Cas just chuckles a little and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why's that Castiel?” Pamela sighs.

“Because.. I've been this way for so long I never thought I'd make it this far.”

Pamela just stares at him, waiting for him to continue.

“In high school I… I just didn't think I'd still be here, alive, at this point. So I never made any future plans. Never tried to prove myself or even pass my classes. So I have nothing. Nothing to show colleges what I can do, nothing to give me a future.” He looks at Pamela. “so what's to say I won't be right back here in a month?”

----------------‐----------------------‐----------------------

Great, another job gone out the window because of his “attitude” and “lack of restraint”. This is bullshit. The customer was being rude, and was wrong about the price anyway, but was mostly just rude. Shit. He'd just finished training too.

Dean walked down the street grumbling to himself, Jay walking to the store on the corner and nearly getting run over.

“GET OUTTA THE ROAD IDIOT!” the driver yells out his window.

“HEY UP YOURS ASSHOLE.” Dean yells back before returning to grumbling to himself.

The bell on the doorframe jingles as he walks in, and he bumps into a cardboard display right inside the door. His foot kicks an empty box on the floor as he finds his favorite six pack of beer in the first aisle. Grabbing it by the plastic tie, and walking towards the counter, the cans hit the edge of the shelf as he turns. Placing the cans on the counter with a thump and throwing a bag of jerky on the counter with it.

“You keep throwing shit around my store and I'll kick you out sooner or later.” The gruff voice comments before ringing up his items.

Dean just groans in response.

“Not even going to tell me what happened this time?”

“Bobby… just… let me drink.”

Bobby pauses, laying the scanner on the counter and crossing his arms. Not finishing the transaction.

Dean sighs, knowing he wont get shit if he doesn't speak up. “Attitude problems and restraint. Just like the last two.”

Bobby grumbles something under his breath before scanning his jerky and waving Dean's cash away. Dean doesn't even hesitate before shoving his money back in his pocket. He knows better than to fight with Bobby, he's too tired to care anyway. So he grabs his stuff and heads through the back hallway to the back door.

The alleyway behind the store is empty and quiet. Dean and his brother set up cheap camping chairs here years ago. Each time Dean comes out, he's a little surprised they're still there. People in this dumb town will steal anything that's not tied down. But Dean's grateful, a little, to sit down in the worn out chair and just drink and smoke. He pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, placing them in the small drink holder in the chair. Grabbing a beer and cracking it open, he takes a swig and stares at the blank walls of other businesses.

Smoking isn't good, neither is drinking, or eating the unhealthy plates of food Dean scarfs down in a single day. But at this point who cares? He doesn't have a future, he barely has a life. Why not smoke and drink what's left away? It won't matter in the long run. Sammy will be fine, Bobby will be fine, everyone would be just fine without him. Besides, he lost another job. What's to say he won't lose the next one? And be right back here where he ends up, each and every time.

-------------------------------------

Cas only has a couple things that make him happy. One, obviously being the pills he has to take to be even remotely normal, two writing and reading, since they often go hand in hand, cas claims it as one together. Three, cooking. His family doesn't have much, but the here and there jobs Cas finds, he manages to pay for most of his own ingredients. Which is a welcome to Anna, who lives on soups and noodles when cas is away.

But he feels bad leaving so often, his parents work the weird hours and they hardly ever see each other, least of all Anna. When Anna leaves for school, parents are just getting off work, and when she comes home, they're either sleeping their last free hours away or getting ready to leave for work again.

So Castiel has become somewhat of a parental figure for Anna, when he is home of course. But Anna doesn't seem to mind, at least she doesn't show it, she catches him up on the high school drama and curricular activities as well as their parents' jobs. And cas listens. Stirring chili and rolling out cookie dough, he listens. To the petty problems of high school cas once was involved in. The who's who of what group and who told something to someone else. Or what teacher finally broke down and which kids got arrested recently. Its entertaining from the sidelines, and cas hopes Anna never gets dragged into it. It's a tough road to walk through.

He can still remember when everyone found out he was gay. That's when things really went downhill. The name calling, the pushes, the literal and emotional beat downs. The subtle looks, the loud rejections. Even the teachers gave him side glances. It's unfortunate the world he's forced to live in, and the town he's forced to survive in. No ones exactly accepting here. There is a small LGBT+ group that meets up every month or so. But locations change because people protest their existence, and it's hard to find a contact. All the members that haven't been outed yet hide in shadows, and it takes a secret password and an undercover handshake to even talk to them. Slowly though.. slowly things are changing.

The taxi that takes him home arrives in front and waits. Cas's eyes watch as the driver gets out and walks inside the main doors.

10 seconds. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. 0.

Castiel Novak please report to front desk, it is time to go home. Congrats.

Cas sighs and stands. Walking towards the desk on this floor. They hand him his notebook, his small backpack of stuff, and his latest batch of pills, all together in a sealed brown bag. The ladies smile and congratulate him on being released. He can only give a small smile in return.

By the time Cas is home, he almost feels like he should be going back already. Like he has spent too much time in the outside world and needs to return to safety. But seeing Anna waiting by the front door makes the feeling subside for now. Anna smiles as Cas thanks the driver and starts walking toward the door.

As usual, Anna gives him a big hug and checks his wrist for his bracelet.

"Only two weeks this time." Anna sighs. "You must be doing better than. They're not being so cautious anymore."

Cas nods, and they walk inside together. Anna grabs his stuff and runs it to his room, before coming back and giving him another hug.

"You're going to stay this time right?" Anna asks, mumbling into his shoulder.

"I'll try." Cas answers in a low tired voice.

Anna squeezes a hug before letting go and taking his hand, leading him to the kitchen and sitting him down at the table.

"I've been working on something. Stay here." Anna turns and opens the oven, the heat flying into the air for just a moment before Anna sets a small plate of cookies on the table beside Cas. "I made cookies, from scratch. They're just chocolate chip, but I found a simple recipe and meddled with it before ending on this. The ultimate chocolate chip cookie."

Cas smiles, I real smile. His fingers pick one up and he takes a taste. He looks back at Anna, she stands there, her hands together in a silent hopeful prayer.

"These are amazing Anna." He says.

Anna jumps up and down with excitement clapping for herself. "Yay." Anna laughs.

Cas can't help but laugh a little too. These cookies are bomb, and he doesn't hesitate to eat just a few more before heading to his room.

He has to remind himself that he should stay, and build some sort of future for himself. He needs to study. He needs to go to school. Get a job. Do something with his life. For now though … he'll sleep. Real sleep, in his own bed, with his own smells and his own blankets. In peace.

Cas dreamt of nature. Strangely, green fields over hills with bright blue skies. The wind in his hair and a hand on his back. But it wasn't his own. He couldn't see the face, he could only feel the hand on his back. It was comforting. Relaxing. He felt safe with this mystery hand steadying him. He felt like he could take on the world. Suddenly he faced a cliff. Looking out into the ocean that housed only a few ships. His toes hooked over the edge of the grass, feeling the rocks of a sudden drop down below to boulders. Boulders that created giant waves that washed against the bottom of the cliff. Fear set in. Something was telling him to go forward, to dive between the boulders into the water. To take the leap and the risk. But he couldn't. He closed his eyes. A hand weaved into his, lining up perfectly. A shoulder rested against his, and a pair of feet joined his on the edge. Cas opened his eyes and stared down at the boulders below. A moment ago he was scared and didn't want to jump. But now. A hand holding his, and another life to take the risk too. He didn't feel so afraid. He took a deep breath, and jumped. Diving into the water, but not alone. This other life jumped with him. Holding his hand all the way down.

Cas woke with a sense of relief and comfort. This other life is out there somewhere. He knows it. And his heart is telling him to search for it. So before his memory swipes away this dream, he takes out a notebook and writes. Every detail he can remember. Anything to help him find this other person. This amazing hand that held him and the ability to risk everything with him.

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iamnotthedog · 6 years

Text

ARCATA: SEPTEMBER 8, 2001

About three days after that panic attack at the Co-op, on the eighth of September, I woke up early—around seven in the morning—feeling restless. I was still being docked shifts from work, so I had nothing to do. Chloe had to work from eight to ten, so I hung around the house for a while, cooking up some breakfast and talking to Steve. When Chloe got home, we smoked some weed and she told me she had to run some errands and that she had to go back to work at four. I really didn’t want to hang around the house anymore—the weed immediately had me in fight or flight mode—so I took off on one of the bikes that one of the roommates had hanging out on the back porch.

A relatively easy five miles later, I was seated on a piece of driftwood on Manila Beach with my shirt off and my bare feet rubbing indentations into the sand. The cloudscapes had been unreal all morning—gigantic cumulus clouds that came and went, changing shapes as they drifted across the blue horizon. I stared at them, and watched them come and go, and I breathed deep and felt good, right down to the bone. So good, in fact, that I laid down in the sand right there by the ocean and fell asleep.

I’ll be damned if I didn’t fall right into a slightly more modern version of that dream I hadn’t had since way back in what? 1983? 1984, maybe? The dream of being kidnapped in the night by a skeleton. In this version of the dream, I was in our bedroom back in Arcata, lying next to Chloe on our mattress on the floor in that white room with the white walls and the white tile floor, and I woke up and rolled over and saw this skeleton standing in the corner by our closet. He still had that faint glow to him that I remembered from my childhood. But this time, instead of scooping me into his arms, throwing me over his shoulder, and running outside to a pick-up truck, all the skeleton had to do was beckon me. He stood there and stuck out his left arm and shook a boney finger at me, and I got out of bed—being sure not to wake Chloe—and I walked right up to him. He didn’t say anything, but lifted his right arm toward the door, and I stepped into some jeans and grabbed a t-shirt off a pile of dirty laundry by the door and walked out of our bedroom and out of the apartment, where I found myself standing at the base of a large mountain of ice. I turned to look for the skeleton, but behind me was only a horse, which neighed loudly, right in my face, and then took off, galloping away along the base of the mountain. It looked like it was almost flying or something. I don’t know, it was a dream. Then there was a cold blast of wind and I turned around, again and again, looking for our apartment—anything recognizable really—but everything was gone. There was nothing around me but ice, and I was in a goddamned t-shirt with bare feet.

I woke up with a start, and I was lying on my stomach with my arms out to my sides, the right side of my face pressed down into the sand, and the ocean water lapping at my bare feet. My feet were numb, actually. I stood and brushed myself off. I had sand everywhere—in my pockets, down my pants, in my underwear, in the crack of my ass. I had probably been thrashing around in the sand something fierce. The sky was much darker; a rather ominous storm cloud was approaching over the Pacific. I put on my shoes and shirt and started walking back to the bike to get back to Arcata before I got soaked.

Manila can actually be a pretty foreboding beach to visit. As I left I had to jump a fence put up by the gun club that had a warehouse and targets nearby, and there were a few radio towers with warning signs and such that I hadn’t noticed on the way in. The Moonstone and Lieufenholtz beaches were both far more majestic, with their redwoods and tall, rugged sea stacks jutting out of the water, but there were always people on those beaches. When I went to Manila, I was greeted only by the dunes, and the occasional gun shot in the distance. The Conservation Corps also did a damn good job on the trail through the dunes to the beach—it wound down through the trees that had been contorted by the gentle but relentless ocean breeze, and then climbed a steep log staircase before coming out on the rolling hills of sand that bowed towards the water.

When I got to the staircase on my way out, I saw another person standing still down at the bottom of the stairs, and I jumped a bit, startled. He was a large man with a floppy brown knit cap on his head, and a long, gray beard. He wore a brown handkerchief around his neck, black rain boots, and a long grey wool jacket with holes in the sleeves, and he had his hands in his pockets. A lump formed in my throat. I lifted my hand in a friendly wave, and continued walking down the stairs, towards him. When we got close enough to hear each other, I said, “Hi, there.”

At first, the man did nothing but stare. I wondered if he wasn’t crazy. One too many hits of acid in his day. Then he frowned. A deep, dark frown that sent chills up my spine. And he said in a gravelly baritone: “A storm is coming.”

I smiled nervously and walked calmly by him, then sprinted out to the road and the bike and took off, out to Samoa Boulevard and back to Arcata, being chased by the rain the whole way.

When I got back to the apartment, I hopped off the bike and opened the front door, and I really just wanted to take a nap and try to sleep off the memory of that skeleton and the psychopath in the trees. But I pushed through that door with the front wheel of the bike, and I steered the bike into the kitchen past the refrigerator, and sitting right there in front of me on the goddamned couch was John. He was smoking a three-foot tall glass bong with Brie and Chloe, who had just got home from work.

“Dan Duffy!” he yelled.

“John?!” I looked at Chloe and she smiled, then kind of raised her eyebrows a bit and shrugged. “What the fuck are you doing here, buddy?” I asked.

“I’m the new guy on the couch!” John said. He laughed.

“Where the hell did that bong come from?” I asked.

Brie yelled, “IT’S A PARTY!” and got up to get herself a beer from the fridge.

John grabbed a djembe from next to the couch and pounded on it. “I brought a couple drums, too,” he said, standing and putting the djembe’s strap over his shoulder. “I’ve got this one, some bongos, and a talking drum. I thought we could find you a guitar and go play some songs out on the street. Try to make a little money.”

I smiled. “Maybe, man.”

About an hour later it seemed like the storm had completely missed us, so Chloe, John, and I had walked up Bayside to Union Street, north and uphill to 13th, then east and up a steep hill to the Redwood City Park, where a crowd was gathering in the huge, well-manicured grass square in the middle of a ring of redwoods. We initially avoided the crowd and cut off the road, onto the trails that wound through the ferns and the gigantic trees. Chloe had a bottle of water with her and a backpack full of beer, and John had his talking drum. I had nothing. We hiked way up into the hills of Arcata Community Forest, climbing up fallen logs as big as train cars, absorbing the scents of pine and wet earth. When we were up in the woods as far as any of us wanted to go, we sat on an old growth redwood stump that had to have been some twenty feet across and Chloe packed a bowl. She handed it to John, who smoked it and offered it to me, but I waved it off.

“What are you talking about, man? I just got here!”

And that was all it took. I smoked, then Chloe smoked, then she laughed a cute little laugh and took off downhill through the ferns, over fallen redwoods and down the massive hill back towards the city park.

John and Chloe bounded through the ferns ahead of me, down the steep incline. The towering redwoods dwarfed them, and they splashed through puddles of sunlight—the sun having reappeared momentarily through a break in the clouds—sunlight streaming down from infrequent breaks in the sea of pine needles that all of a sudden seemed to swarm like insects high above our heads. I got itchy. None of the pine needles were brushing my arms as we ran, but I started to feel them itch, nonetheless. The ferns also felt like they were prickling my skinny legs through my jeans. I eventually stopped running, and hung back behind John and Chloe and felt sick.

As we neared the bottom of the hill, I could hear drums—some low and rumbling, infrequent like thunder; others high-pitched and almost constant, like the onslaught of a machine gun. The sweet smell of marijuana blended with those pleasant, earthy scents of pine and soil. As clouds rolled in overhead, John—now only about twenty paces ahead of me—peered down through the pines and yelled, “We made it! We’re at the park!”

My stomach turned, and I scratched at my arms. Chloe fumbled around in her backpack, there was a clinking of glass, and as I caught up to her she handed me a beer.

“You alright, man?” John asked, cocking his head to look into my face.

I looked behind me, up the hill we had descended, up the towering tree trunks to the pine needles above, and beyond them to the sky that had once again turned grey and lifeless. Then I turned back and looked past John and Chloe, out to the wide-open, grassy clearing dotted with nappy headed men and women—all of them young and white, and wearing various shades of brown, green, grey. All flannel and denim and corduroy. Dogs chased each other in circles. Clouds of smoke hung in the air roughly ten feet above everyone’s heads. I was observing all that when John shoved a joint in my face. “Here you go,” he said, smiling. “Take the edge off.”

Chloe looked at me with a moderate look of concern on her face, then sucked down a bowl full of weed in one massive hit and slapped the ashes out on her leg. And all of this was happening under the relentless drone of those drums.

“Let’s go check it out,” Chloe said, inadvertently blowing her hit in my face.

I threw back half of my beer, shoved the bottle between my legs, and lit the joint. My heart pounded in my ears as I inhaled, and a rock formed in my gut. But a voice in my head—quiet at first, then slowly gaining volume—said, “Fuck it.” After a couple of minutes it was screaming, screaming to be heard over the drums as we walked out of the forest onto the grass and Chloe took her shoes off.

This was the city park in Arcata. A large, square field of green grass surrounded by hills of towering redwoods. There was a strange energy to it all, an uneasiness that I knew must come from something other than the drugs, the relentless drums, the evening fog settling in, making everything seem suffocated, claustrophobic, as if a tarp was being thrown over the town. Chloe had her shoes in her hand and was padding around in the thick wet grass as John handed her freshly packed bowl to a shirtless young man with patched corduroys and a feathered vest. The young man smiled and handed his drum to John—a small aluminum high-pitched thing that John stuck between his legs and attacked with a flurry of fingers.

I smoked my joint, put my hand to my heart, and counted my breaths. The eyes I was getting from the drum circle were too much for me, so I looked away, towards the redwoods, now draped in fog and shadow. It happened so suddenly. There were ghosts in that forest. I began walking towards them, away from the deafening machine gun fire of John’s fingers, away from the eyes. Then a young woman took my arm and did a little dance around me, her skin sliding over my arms, her hands moving up my rib cage as she slipped behind me, and then she was in front of me, her knotted hair smelling like burnt sandalwood, her smile open-mouthed, her yellowed teeth shimmering with spit and booze, her cheeks and nose red and shiny, her eyes bloodshot and blinking rapidly. Then she was gone as quick as she appeared, and I was seated on the grass, petting a wet dog, thinking of my family’s first dog—poor Aggie—Aggie who had run out onto the train tracks one evening chasing something—chasing what, we would never know—and had been destroyed by a west-bound Union Pacific that probably hadn’t stopped, but had barreled through the snowy Midwest, out into the Great Plains, up into the mountains, down into the hot, dry desert, and all the way out to the Pacific coast with a piece of my childhood splattered all over the front of it. That poor dog—small, part Labrador, part schnauzer, bearded, awkward and overfed, living a comfortable Midwestern life with all of its needs taken care of, but she still couldn’t resist the chase—still couldn’t resist taking that one shot at attaining the unattainable, and she had her spine shattered for it.

I pet the dog more and looked into his eyes, his tongue hanging out of the side of his open mouth. Then I looked out through the cloud of smoke encircling my head, out past the drum circle to the trees beyond, imagining that I could see right through the trees and out over the sleepy town, everyone working, sleeping, eating, fucking, all of them dogs. Dogs everyone. The joint gone, I looked around for something, anything to hold onto, and I was given a bottle. Several long pulls, and my control was gradually returning to me, starting in my legs and moving up into my spine. I found John in the sea of flannel and denim and corduroy, his whit face bobbing like a buoy on a sea of earthen foam, and I managed a smile. The sea shifted beneath us and the bottle returned to my lips as an ugly little leprechaun of a man scowled at me, then turned to the goblins on his left and said, “Who’s the new guy?”

#arcata #manilabeach #moonstonebeach #lieufenhotlzbeach #conservationcorps #soothsayer #dreams #nightmares #storms #reunions #friendship #weed #paranoia #redwoodcitypark #ghosts #dogs

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