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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

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Creatures of the Night

Chapter 3 - dark though it is

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(no TW for this chapter, if there’s something you want a warning for, please message me)

(The title of the chapter comes from “Thanks” by W. S. Merwin)

Logan glared at the mug of coffee before him, his elbows propped on the counter and his fingers laced together. He couldn’t get the image of Roman coming home earlier this morning out of his head. Logan had known for a while—going on two months, five days, seven hours, and forty minutes ago. Roman told him there was nothing he could do; the curse was irreversible according to Ursula's letter. Forget the fact that he was risking his life every single day, because Roman had that stupid amulet that supposedly negated all of his fatigue and injuries once removed, as if that also negated any worry that Logan endured. What would happen if the chain snapped, or it fell off while he was fighting? What then?

“Is something bothering you, kiddo?” Patton asked, sliding onto the stool next to him. Logan blinked and muttered something about nuclear fission and thermodynamics, something to keep him oblivious. It would break Patton to see what was happening to Roman, Logan was sure of it. He already took care of the three of them; he didn’t need something else to keep him up at night. Patton didn't seem too convinced of the evasion, but didn't push the issue any further. Instead, he pushed a bowl of cereal and a plate of orange slices toward him.

"Eat up, Logan. Can't be missing out on all that Vitamin Yes."

"What are you talking about?" he said around a mouthful of Cheerios. "Oranges contain Vitamin C, along with minerals like thiamine, folate, potassium, and—wait, was that a pun?"

"Vitamin C is Spanish for Vitamin Yes!" Patton giggled, dancing away from Logan before he could smack him with his spoon.

"That doesn't even make sense! You can't—"

"Come on, Lo! It was funny!"

"—isn't even spelled the same. C is a letter, not a word! Linguistically, they are completely diff—"

"Virgil! Help!" Patton cried from behind the couch and dissolved into a fit of laughter. Logan looked up, still brandishing his cereal spoon like a weapon. Virgil stood at the base of the stairs looking tired. A hint of a smile graced his face at their antics and he shrugged.

"Don't look at me."

It wasn't long before Patton surrendered, allowing Logan a victory tap with the spoon, and returned to preparing breakfast. The oven beeped, alerting them all that the chocolate chip muffins were done. Virgil lowered onto a stool next to Logan, resting his chin on his hand.

"Were you out in the living room last night?"

"What?"

"Last night, I heard someone walking around and voices and stuff. I assumed it was you just studying and talking to yourself, but if it wasn't you... it must be a ghost," he said with a grin.

"A what?" Patton yelped.

"That's preposterous. Don't listen to him, Patton. Yes, I was up last night, but it's nothing to concern yourselves with."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Patton said, putting his hands on his hips. "You boys need your sleep. If you two keep this up, I'll have to charge you with resisting a rest."

Virgil squinted at Patton, "I don't get—oh, wait. Arrest. But, like, with a space. That's pretty good, Patt."

"I'm getting really tired of this," Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Virgil snorted and Patton beamed.

Logan tensed, pointing a warning finger at Patton who squeaked, "I guess you could say we're... exhausting?"

"I swear—" The stairs creaked and they all looked up. Roman rubbed his eyes and yawned as he descended the last few steps, his hair wet and noticeably not matted down with demon blood. He opened his eyes and froze, smiling nervously.

"Why are you all staring? I mean, I know I'm handsome and all that, but really, control yourselves."

Patton smiled, arranging another plate of oranges. "Good morning, Roman. How did you sleep?"

"Well, thank you—Ooh! Chocolate chip muffins?"

"They're still hot! Hands off!"

Virgil sniffed and pulled the sleeves of his jacket halfway over his hands. "Speaking of hot, did you enjoy taking all of the hot water this morning?"

Logan stiffened and glanced at Roman, but he just scoffed, "It isn't my fault it takes time to look this good, Virgil."

"I just don't understand why you have to shower for an entire hour. Our water bill's going to be through the roof."

Logan's brows knit together, "It's a piece of paper, Virgil. How would it be through the roof?"

"Play nice, guys," Patton said, pulling the oven mitt off his hand and sticking a toothpick down the center of one of the muffins. It came out clean.

"So, Logan gets to lecture me about wasting electricity and leaving the lights on, but when Princey over here takes his sweet time—" Virgil ranted, stopping short when Roman's spoon clattered out of his hand and back into his bowl. Virgil paled, a mortified look on his face. Logan looked between them, racking his brain for a quick solution. Virgil might not know the reasons behind Roman's reaction, but he would definitely recognize it for what it was; he was the most anxious of them all. Truth be told, Logan didn't know what had set Roman off either, but if he didn't change the subject soon, they might start asking questions neither of them were prepared to answer.

"Er, Patton!" he blurted, "How would you like to have a picnic for lunch today?" If anything would distract him, it was a picnic. Summer was almost over, and he'd been begging the rest of them to do one before it got too cold.

Patton gasped, "Really?"

Logan shot a meaningful look Roman's way. "Of course. I don't start teaching for another few weeks and Virgil, you're working a grave again tonight, aren't you? I think we could all use a nice relaxing picnic, don't you think? Guys?"

Patton began removing muffins from the metal tin. "We could have sandwiches, and I could cut up some watermelon! I'll have to go shopping later and pick some up. I think I saw some at Mia's for a dollar-fifty," he rambled.

"That sounds nice," Roman said, another spoonful of cereal hovering indecisively between the bowl and his mouth. Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it, biting his bottom lip and pushing away from the counter. Patton turned around with a plate of fresh muffins. His look of content devolved into confusion as Virgil slunk back up the stairs. A bit of an overreaction in Logan's opinion, he didn't think any of them had seemed angry at him, but he wasn't the best at predicting Virgil's reactions.

"What happened?" Patton asked, setting the plate of muffins down. Roman grabbed three, apparently relocating his appetite.

"Nothing," Logan assured him, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"These are amazing, Padre," Roman said, his voice muffled by the sweet cake.

Patton smiled softly, his eyes fixed on the empty stool where Virgil once sat. "I think I'm going to have a little chat with Virge." He took a single muffin from the plate and excused himself. Logan watched him go, then turned his eyes on Roman, who was stuffing the third muffin into his mouth.

"Care to explain what happened a minute ago?" he asked, standing and carrying his now empty cereal bowl to the sink—well, empty except for the milk. Logan hated drinking cereal milk from a bowl.

"Not really," Roman said, opening the fridge and looking through the contents. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Sweet cheese and crackers, I'm starving. Are these your leftovers? Can I have them?"

"If you tell me what Virgil said to upset you."

"Fine, I guess I'll find something else, then," he said, the playful edge to his voice sharpening. He grabbed the carton of milk and poured himself a glass. Logan watched as he looked through the pantry in tense silence, eventually settling on the jar of peanut butter and a spoon. Not the healthiest breakfast, but Logan wasn't about to call him out on it. Roman sat down on the couch, furiously eating his peanut butter. Logan leaned against the counter, unsure what to do. Patton would know. Of course he would, he always did. Oh, how Logan wished he could tell him what was going on, but he knew as well as Roman that it would tear him up inside.

�� * * * * * * * * * *

"All right, is everyone ready to go?" Roman asked, basket full of lunch fixings hanging off the crook of his arm. Patton beamed and Logan looked around, nodding as he made a silent double-check. Virgil avoided his eye, playing with the strings on his jacket. Roman felt bad. He hadn't meant to react so visibly, but when Virgil had called him Princey, his mind had immediately flooded with images of a giant demon serpent. He knew he sang, loved Disney, and could even be grandiose at times—it was kind of his thing. Many people had compared him to a prince in the past, so Virgil making the connection wasn't exactly suspicious. Now, however, the word had turned sour from fear. Terror had dyed it an ugly color, and he couldn't get it out. He certainly didn't blame Virgil for what happened, but was at a loss for what to say without inviting more questions about it.

"Looks like it! Let's go!" Patton said happily, marching into the garage and clambering into the truck. Logan grabbed a thick blanket for them to sit on. Roman followed Patton with a smile, sliding into the driver's seat as the other two piled into the back.

The drive was nice. Patton played songs from his favorite playlist, made jokes so bad they were hilarious, and gave Roman gentle directions on when and where to turn. Apparently, he knew of a spacious meadow just perfect for a picnic. Wakeby wasn't very large, so he was interested to find out where it was. Near the forest, no doubt. Roman attempted to swallow the lump forming in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do during the day was spend time looking at the forest. It surrounded Wakeby on all sides, parting only slightly to allow the interstate to pass through town. Roman had tried entering the forest in different places to try and avoid running into the demon, however, the longer it took him to get into the trees, the more painful the curse became. Eventually, he'd settled for entering in the same place and just dealing with whatever the snake had up its sleeve. Not that snakes had sleeves, but you get the point.

Pulling off the road onto a patch of gravel, Roman put the truck in park and pulled out the key.

"You weren't kidding, Pat," Virgil said, gazing out the window. He was right, the meadow was gorgeous, hidden behind the movie theater. Roman couldn't have said if he'd been there before or not. Wakeby looked different with the sun shining. Nearly bouncing with excitement, Patton hopped out of the truck with the basket on his arm. They eventually found a place to set up. Roman found himself experiencing a silent, internal dilemma as he tried to decide whether he wanted to sit facing the forest, or with his back to it. If he turned his back to it, he'd be paranoid the entire time about not being able to watch for danger, and yet, if he faced it, he wouldn't be able to stop glancing over, watching for the glint of golden scales. Come to think of it, Roman had never seen the serpent during the day. This was mostly due to the fact that he avoided the forest like the plague during the only time he had away from it. It was curious, though, what the demon did with the rest of its day. Surely, Roman wasn't the only person to ever enter the forest in Wakeby, right? If so, how come no one had noticed the enormous snake squatting there? Could it leave the forest? Did it stay that big, or just turn into a normal snake?

Hopefully, I'll never have to find out, Roman thought, finally deciding to sit facing the trees. Patton handed out the sandwiches and watermelon, and Roman enjoyed himself. Truly and thoroughly enjoyed the time he got to spend with his roommates. Strange, how not knowing if you'll come home alive every night changes a person's perspective on what's important. He'd easily give up any chance at a college education if it meant getting to see all of his friends achieve their goals before... you know. He died. So, wanting to make the absolute most of however much time he did have left, Roman proposed a game of frisbee. Logan and Virgil politely declined, but Patton whole-heartedly agreed, running to the truck and retrieving the plastic disk from under the back seats.

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan watched Roman and Patton throw the frisbee back and forth, the faintest of smiles on his face. Patton made up increasingly ridiculous names for the "special throws" he performed, and Roman was laughing so hard he couldn't catch the frisbee—which only made him laugh harder. Virgil seemed the only one in a dour mood.

"Virgil?"

"Hm?" he looked up from picking at the leftover crusts of his sandwich.

"I...I'm sorry, if you felt attacked at breakfast. That was not my intention," Logan said, placing his hands in his lap awkwardly. He wasn't the best at apologies.

Virgil shrugged, giving a half-smile. "Nah, it's okay. I just... felt bad, you know? I don't really like dealing with conflict, and I know it's a bad habit and all that, but it just makes me really nervous. Nothing against you or Patton."

Logan sat up. "Do you have any idea why Roman reacted the way he did?" He doubted it, as Virgil didn't know about Roman's escapades as of yet, but there was a slight possibility it was having to do with something else.

Virgil stiffened. "Uh, no. I—I don't." He went back to picking at his bread. Roman had mentioned something about Virgil acting different since the summer, and at first Logan had written it off as nothing, just Virgil being Virgil. He was always like this after visiting his parents—an uncommon occurrence, for sure, but each summer since they'd all met, Virgil had stolen away into the wilderness to spend time with them regardless of how it affected him when he returned. But this "funk", as Roman put it, was going on a little longer than normal.

Logan went quiet for a moment, thinking. After a moment, he pulled out the book he'd brought along with him and said, "Would you like me to read aloud for a bit?" He knew that Virgil found the activity calming, and hoped it would help somewhat

His eyes lightened and he looked up. "What book is it?"

"Rhetoric and Logic. It's actually quite interesting."

Virgil snorted and reclined onto his back, lacing his hands behind his head. "All right, then."

Logan read to him. It was something he wouldn't have done given usual circumstances. Most people didn't care about the things that Logan found interesting. Virgil, on the other hand, found it calming and would ask him to read aloud whenever he was feeling anxious. Logan had read the book before many times, and found his mind wandering as he read. He could still hear Roman and Patton's game going on in the background. It made him glad to see Roman enjoying what free time he was allowed. Logan had been researching everything he could find on demons, curses, and dragon witches. So far, all he'd found were children's stories and folktales. There were many myths and legends about serpents and demons that took their shape, but from the details Roman had given him about it, there was nothing written about his specific opponent. The closest things Logan had found to Roman's curse were punishments mortals received after death.

If anyone was living hell, it was Roman.

They went on like this for nearly half and hour before Roman and Patton grew tired and returned to the blanket. Logan put his book away, and they all talked about anything and everything. Logan would be lying if he said he didn't notice Roman glancing over at the tree line every few minutes, but it would also be false to ignore the lack of tension in his shoulders, the ease with which he smiled, and the genuine laughter bubbling out of his throat. Even Virgil had relaxed and inserted himself into the conversation more.

Eventually, they cleaned up lunch, and all lay back on the blanket watching the sky.

"So, is college just like how it is in the movies?" Roman asked. "You're the only one of us who's actually gone to school on a campus."

"What do you mean?" Logan looked over at him.

"You know, frat boys, and sorority girls, and parties, and stuff," he said, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

Logan looked back up at the partly cloudy sky. "Yes, they exist, if that's what you're asking." He paused. "I even attended one of those so called 'frat parties'."

Virgil choked. "You what?"

Roman sat up, a mischievous grin on his face. "I can't believe it. Logan was a frat boy."

Logan reddened, "I was not one of them, you heathens. My attendance was a singular, accidental event."

"Sure, Lo," Patton muttered, hiding his laughter behind his hand.

"You all are blowing this way out of proportion, it wasn't—"

"Did you drink anything? Wait, did you get drunk? Oh, I would pay money to see you drunk, teach," Roman laughed.

"Of course not, I only had... a few drinks. I think," Logan trailed off, a look of genuine concern crossing his face.

Roman gasped. "Oh my heck, you got wasted, didn't you?"

"Guys..." Virgil muttered.

Logan propped himself up on his elbow. "I didn't pass out or anything, if that's what your insinuating."

"Just got a bit absinthe-minded?" Patton offered, and Logan ran a hand down his face and flopped back onto his back.

"Guys," Virgil repeated, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Roman glanced over, "Oh, come on Surly Temple, it wasn't that bad of a pun, even for you."

"No, my head..." Virgil managed, grabbing his head and curling in on himself. The group sobered. No pun intended. Logan met their eyes, and they both nodded. Another migraine. Virgil suffered from what Logan had called thunderclap headaches. They came on suddenly, at times without warning, and lasted about five minutes. They were extremely painful, from what Virgil had told them. As quietly as possible, Roman and Patton gathered up the blanket and picnic basket while Logan helped Virgil to his feet and across the meadow to Roman's truck. Patton shot Roman a concerned look, and he tried to give him a comforting smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. He was sad to have to cut their outing short, but he wouldn't dream of furthering Virgil's pain.

The drive home was silent, but not in a bad way. Virgil sat hunched over in the passenger seat, and Patton extended his seat belt as far as it would go and rubbed his back from the backseat. Roman drove as smoothly as he possibly could, and was just glad, for once, he wasn't the one having to be taken care of.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three hours later.

"I'm just going to take a walk, I'll be back in a bit," Virgil called, already out the door. Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, he hurried down the street toward the far edge of town. Once the houses and establishments had thinned, he ducked behind a fence, checked once more for any onlookers, then crouched down and muttered a quick phrase under his breath. His entire body thrummed with magic as he felt the familiar feeling of returning to his true form. Unlike most of the shows he watched on the others' television device, consistency with clothing wasn't a problem he faced. It simply shifted with him. He couldn't imagine having to constantly worry about leaving piles of empty clothes lying around, or shifting back completely naked. He shivered, the hair along the back of his spine prickling. Approaching a small puddle on the ground, he looked down.

Pointy ears? Check. Two eyes? Check. Whiskers still impeccably groomed? Check. The perfect image of a black cat. But of course, why wouldn't he be? He was a cat, originally, that is—though Ursula's magic had changed him from a normal feline into his current magical self who-knows-how-many years ago.

Being a familiar wasn't all that hard. Being a familiar who was defying their witch? That proved an entirely different matter.

Logan had attempted to diagnose the sudden, debilitating headaches he suffered without any warning with some human explanation. In reality, it was simply what happened when he resisted Ursula's connection to him. His decision to quit being her spy on Roman had been going on for about ten months now, not too long after Roman had been cursed. Needless to say, she wasn't too happy about it. Despite his resolve, every once in a while, she attempted to see through his eyes as she had used to. Defying someone as powerful as her was considered brave by few, and stupid by most.

Attempting to shake the thoughts from his head, Virgil leaped up onto the top of the fence and darted down it. After what had happened at the picnic, he'd become paranoid about the state of the protective "anti-Ursula" border he'd created around Wakeby and hadn't been able to sit still until he'd checked the runes. Ursula had destroyed them the first few times, but Virgil had proved persistent in his efforts to keep his friend safe, and she'd given up for the most part in her battle with him. She had what she needed.

Roman. His friend. His friend that he'd betrayed and then been too much of a coward to face the consequences. Roman, who hadn't done anything to deserve what he'd received simply because he existed. It wasn't his fault that his thrice great-grandmother had been the Witch Queen; the Chosen One. He hadn't asked for this. Neither had his mother before him. Virgil's stomach twisted at the thought of Roman ending up just like his mother, and yet there wasn't much he could do about it.

No. That was a lie. There wasn't much he was brave enough to do. Because he was a pathetic coward who would rather let his friend risk his life every single night than stand up to his witch. His mind dragged him back to that morning. He couldn't believe he'd actually given Roman a hard time about the shower. The truth was, Roman was an actor. An amazing one. So good, in fact, that Virgil often forgot about the curse. About being an imposter. When he was home, he was just a normal guy hanging out with his friends. Nothing more—or so he'd managed to convince himself.

He arrived at the dilapidated gas station at the far east corner of Wakeby, slinking around the back and swiftly locating the rune he'd carved into one of the white painted bricks. It looked largely untouched. Virgil quickly moved on, trotting down the side of the highway toward the next way point, mind rife with conflict and pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night.

"Logan, I thought we'd already been over this," Roman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I will not be going to bed without knowing you are safe, Roman. Arguing with me on the matter is futile," Logan replied, folding his arms.

He looked up at his roommate, exasperated but internally thankful. It was nice to know that someone cared if he came home each night or not. He shifted the sword in his grip and stepped toward the door. "All right, but you're going to bed as soon as I get back. Deal?"

"Satisfactory. Oh, and Roman?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I may have a way to locate a possible solution to your curse."

Roman froze with his hand on the door handle, his brain still trying to register what he said. "Don't say things like that," he breathed. His voice was soft, and scared to hope. "Don't promise me the impossible." He felt a hand on his armored shoulder.

"At least hear me out?"

The curse tugged at his insides, but he didn't move. He turned. "Fine."

Logan smiled. "Have you tried reasoning with this demon?"

Roman's throat constricted. "Reasoning with it? It's been trying to kill me every night for the last twelve months. How do you propose I reason with something like that?" he snapped. He didn't have time for this.

Logan didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "It can speak, yes?"

"Yeah, but I don't—"

"Does it have a name?"

Roman threw his hands into the air, "I mean, probably. I haven't really had time to ask it since it's been trying to kill me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go try not to die for the next six hours."

Roman turned back to the door and turned the handle. Logan grabbed his shoulder and flipped him around, pushing him back into the door. "Roman, you need to begin thinking objectively and listen to me. I'm trying to save your life. Trust me on this."

"It can't be reasoned with. It's a monster."

"Have you considered the possibility that it's just as cursed as you are?" Logan spat, and Roman fell silent. "That's what I'm saying. Yes, you two have your differences, I can't even begin to imagine, but you can't go on like this, Roman. You can't. You'll die."

Roman swallowed. "We all die, Logan."

"Don't quote facts at me, Roman Kingsley," he said shakily. Roman thought he could see tears pricking in his eyes, but couldn't have been sure. "Just promise me that you'll try. Please. If it doesn't work, I'll abandon the theory, but there's only one way to find out if it will work or not."

"Okay," Roman relented, though it drove a spike of fear straight through his heart. He'd be making himself vulnerable on purpose in front of a beast who wanted nothing more than his blood on its tongue.

"Good luck."

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #LAMP pairing #polyarmory #creatures of the night #chroniclackofselfpreservation #fantasy au #modern fantasy au

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blondrichclosetwitch · 3 years

Text

These are from yesterday.

149 five years bowie —(I should say normally they play this when it’s an anniversary of something , haven’t figured out what yet)

We had five years left to cry in —For some reason it was only to last five years

My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare—There were so many people and spirits talking to me that I developed a mild schizophrenia

I had to cram so many things to store everything in there —The storylines

A girl my age went off her head— this is a reference to me in my 20s before I met my friends who got me interested in gypsy life, and how it set me on a spiritual path. Though I did not think there was anything good about me then.

I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour Drinking milkshakes cold and long Smiling and waving and looking so fine Don't think you knew you were in this song—stella & I actually went to an ice cream shop on one of my visits. At the time of course we had no idea what was coming, and that we’d be doing so much spirit communication.

And it was cold and it rained, so I felt like an actor— The day in the park when I was waiting for psychic Jakk and dancing on my own played, it was cold and it rained. That was the first time that I would go somewhere to meet him. It happened every few days after that, sometimes when I had three or four dollars to my name. Once I waited for him at a restaurant in the East Village for an hour and a half, and I only had money for the subway.

And I thought of Ma and I wanted to get back there

Your face, your race, the way that you talk

I kiss you, you’re beautiful, I want you to walk—the baby and stella being

My psychic protectors, trying to

Inform me what was happening.

We’ve got five years, my brain hurts a lot— I have definitely bordered on the edge of nervous breakdowns during this, up until last year. One of my Priestess sisters gifted me an initiation with the modern mystery school, end it probably saved my life. Those are the rituals that I still do every day, along with some prayers that I’ve added in myself.

Seems worth mentioning that when I went to the Ritual Master‘s house for that initiation, I was not well. At all. And very resistant to giving up what I was tethered to.

222 Kanye West Runaway— The big Takeaway on this one is that this song was supposed to be a message to me to run away, but I never saw it that way.

You may have heard that when this place, I have a history of doing pirouettes down the street to the song piano solo at the end. I did do that from the church to Graham Avenue today. Luckily no one was really on the street.

Let's have a toast for the jerk-o ffsThat'll never take work off—Jack is known for being a workaholic which is part of the reason I saw him so little.

She find pictures in my email— blond read a bunch of stuff from our email correspondence and apparently that’s what got the whole plan rolling. And also what got her obsessed with knowing everything.

Run away

When it starts to get crazy Why can't she just run away?

Twenty-four seven, three sixty-five, pussy stays on my mind

I-I-I-I did it, alright, alright, I admit it

Now pick your next move, you could leave or live with it— blond’s confession Which apparently already happened unofficially

Every bag, every blouse, every bracelet

Comes with a price tag, baby, face it— Jack was given a lot of things. I’ve been told this for years.

When doves cry 226 Prince—Dig if you will the picture—my niece’s picture

The references to doves crying has to do

With all the dead birds left for me, and also that I’ve been watching mourning doves regularly for 2 years or so

237 lost in the world Kanye West—I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind I'm building a still to slow down the time—This is about how I went to the trees after Stella died and it became my center

I’m new in the city—I met Jack when I had been here only three months

You're my devil, you're my angel You're my heaven, you're my hell You're my now, you're my forever You're my freedom, you're my jail You're my lies, you're my truth You're my war, you're my truce You're my questions, you're my proof You're my stress and you're my masseuse—this is about one being blond, the other being my niece

Run from the lights, run from the night, run for your life—Dangers in the apartment

Who will survive in America?—a sticker I saw last spring before leaving for Yonkers, also got me into Gil scot heron, also the question of the century

I'm lost in the world, been down my whole life—When I came here I had just gone through a horrible break up, also didn’t know what my gifts meant

Call the police LCD Soundsystem 241–t moves like a virus and enters our skin The first sign divides us, the second is moving to Berlin

But that's not the state I'm in— reference to what’s in the apartment, also I was told Jack and I would be going to Berlin in 2017

The kids come out fighting and still doing what they're told— The guys working for Blond

But you're waking a monster—the lower realm being the tarot reader conjured up

Your head is on fire, your hands are getting weak, You've basted your brains with the shatter and the speed and defeat up on the street—my body and mind got traumatized from everything they were doing

Well, there's a full-blown rebellion but you're easy to confuse

By trigger kids and fakers and some questionable views

Oh, call the cops, call the preachers!— calling cops and preachers became an almost weekly task, and they all thought I was out of my mind

Yeah, call the police

Yeah, call the police—Over and over I was told to call the police, and every time they asked me if I needed medical help or if I was missing medication

Marrow Saint Vincent 4:00–Mouth connects to the teeth

And teeth to the loves and curses— you may or may not know that my teeth bleed from the programming… First it seemed I had a pendulum in my stomach, then the movement moved to my mouse and my jaw moved clockwise regularly, which led to me biting down on the right side to stop the movement. So now I bleed. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and my jaw would be moving.

H-E-L-P

Help me, help me

If you could only go somewhere else

401 standing in the shower thinking Jane’s addiction—Standing in the shower thinking

About a man I know don't like me

He don't like the place I'm headed

Same place he's headed

I know he'd beat me to it

If he could but he won't do it

But he would man

If he could

And the water is piping hot..

The water is piping hot

It beats upon my neck

And I'm pissing on myself— both references to the competition and to the water.

405 lightning Saint Vincent David Byrne—There’s a funny lightning

Threatening with striking

But it moves too quick for a picture

There's a funny lightning

Round the corner hiding— The spirit hiding in the closet

But if I should wake up and find my home's in half

Who is it? Blame nature, I guess I have to laugh

And if I should wake up and find my bed has moved

Six inches, six closer to the west— i’ve talked about them moving my furniture before

I salt the corners of

My room because, because

A ghost can never be too careful—I was told to salt the corners and put crystals there

The crack is moving up the wall I can’t help thinking this is war

And when she was bad cinerama 410–Well maybe you might

Not be quite as blame free as your expression suggests

You say it’s all just for fun, but look what you’ve done

412 almost no one escape-ism——-Almost no one can have my love

30 for 30 freestyle drake 416—-But I got bigger fish to fry

I'm talking bigger shit than you and I

Kids'll lose their lives, got me scared of losing mine

And if I hold my tongue about it, I get crucified Back in the city, shit is getting brutal

So much legal action like I'm Michael Jackson

Luckily, I'm great at avoiding distraction

Used to get no reaction, now I'm overreacting—Not after all of the shit I've seen and the things I believe

You loved me back in the basement, guess it is what we make it—I lived in the basement in Yonkers last year

The haters just bringing me and my people closer, actually

What happened to the things you niggas said was supposed to happen?

Are we just supposed to ignore the fact that it never happened?

419 can I have my balls back please? Pulp—So I went to New York City to see a doctor thinking maybe that he

Would understand the state I was in

He said: "I'd dearly love to help you son

But you see the same thing's happened to me."

So now I'm home and I'm asking you just once more

Please

Oh, can I have my balls back, please?

My old man Joni Mitchell —yeah I’m gonna skip this one

Dress your cat in an apron, free to be you and me 427–A person should wear what he wants to

And not just what other folks say.— steel once told me that Jack couldn’t put on a pair of pants without checking with Blond.

Does not 428 mojica—Man Bestows

More Disease

Can you feel it on my hands (my hands are always dirty in the apt)

As Above, So Below

For some reason they don't know

Blind ambition stands before

Ancient wisdom out the door. (If they kill me, they lose ancient teachings of my

Past selves)

They moved the trees,

The trees moved not,

A sadness moves,

Above.

Deep in the ground,

It does not,

It will not,

It cannot,

Move. (What they’ve done to the trees and the earth cannot be reversed.)

436 the forest awakes st Vincent The streets are alive

With a terrible song (street abuse/ graffiti)

Forwards and backwards in every direction

I'm marching along

The street where you live (spies)

I'm calling your name,

A place of relief and a time of confusion (the apartment)

The heart is a simple equation

The heart is a face, is a mountain (mountain reference )

I heard a sound and a bird has flown

It breaks to pieces above the forest (bird killings)

A million particles born today (the shit on the walls)

Air cannot escape

Underneath the weeping willow (The trees keep saying they’re dying, also the gardeners say the same thing)

I can see your face

Free-form, climbing all over me (the witches)

Creatures great and small

Doctors pulling them out of you(the baby)

Hideous, virtuous, both of us (tug

Of war)

Sweet inspiration sneaks up from behind

Forest is true

I know for a fact (nature is the only thing that makes sense)

The bigger the front

Then the bigger the back

My heart beating still

Through the perilous night

The bombs burst in air(bombs again)

The strangeness of words

How the meaning keeps changing

But somehow the beauty will find you (figuring out the messages)

Outside 437 Bruce—Well Mr. Outside

All your money and your power

Won't help you come the dark hour

Well kingdoms crumble

To your feet

You're left another thief out on the street eah he don't care

Mr. Outside

He's just having his fun

Mr. Outside

Oh, looking out for number one

Dark glasses and money for hire He got pretty little little girl in back (this it’s a song about the guys hired to do things)

My bionic eyes liz phair

Then I turned out the light

I've got timing and attitude

That can get to the baddest dude

That's when I hypnotize him

With my bionic eyes

As I got older

I had to step out of the lines

And make up my own mind

As I got light as a feather

They got stiff as a board

I can't feel any more

It's easy in the beginning

When I can dazzle them

All night

Make 'em do what you want em to

Get 'em running after you

I can't feel any more

But I can fake it forever

If there's a parallel nation

And I'm a secret weapon

Show me a man you cannot break

And I will show you heaven (this song is about blond)

When you’re in love with a beautiful woman dr hook 4:44—You know that its crazy and you don't wanna trust her

Then somebody hangs up when you answer the phone

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you go it alone

Maybe it's just an ego problem, problem is I've been fooled before

By fair-weathered friends and faint-hearted lovers

And every time it happens it just convinces me more (Watch her eyes, baby watch her eyes)

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you look for lies Cause everybody tempts her everybody tells her

She's the most beautiful woman they know(this is about the lack of trust between Jack and Blond)

447 susannah christopher Owens—instrumental

450 my sweet lord Jim james — this was the first song I ever saying to God. Also it was the number one song in America the day I was born.

454 underneath the weeping willow grandaddy—-this is a song about the tree and how they’ve been trying to kill her life force which is majorly fucked up. I actually cried when this started playing.

457 Careless cinerama—What can I say, they were careless

500 will get what we deserve Gene— enough said

505 American skin Bruce Springsteen—It ain’t no secret. Even before I started this Tumblr, a lot of people knew about what was going on apparently. That makes them accomplices. Young and old.

514 his story TLC— i’m not touching that one.

516 young forever Jay Z—Can I get some light in here? Are you gonna drop the bomb or not? Niggas thought I lost it, they be talking more shit

I be talking more shit, I'm nauseous, hold up

I'll be here forever, you know I'm on my fall shit

And I ain't waiting for closure, I will never forfeit

Less than four bars, baby, bring the chorus in

Did you get the picture yet I'm painting you a portrait

Don't be good, Brooklyn, be great—I look forward to the day that Brooklyn is front-page news for this debacle. I hope it forces this city to take a good long look at it self.

527 common people pulp— many know that this was the first song where I saw my niece visually.

She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge— my past life where I was a rich lady and slaveowner

That’s where I

Caught her eye —her=blond

her dad was loaded—

I took her to a supermarket— The first thing Jack did when he met me was he took me to a bodega to buy me some pineapple because my blood sugar was dropping

She just smiled and held my hand—this is me

Pretend you never went to school—I wasn’t known for intelligence as much as I was known for creativity

But still you’ll never get it right—this is about Jakk being true to his heart

‘

Cause when you’re laid in bed at night

Watching roaches climb the wall— One time when we were making out on my first sublet, a roach started crawling on us and Jack had to kill it. It was huge.

If you called your dad he could stop it all—god

You'll never watch your life slide out of view

And you dance and drink and screw

Because there's nothing else to do—Life in the bunker

Sing along with the common people

Sing along and it might just get you through— my niece got me singing and dancing, almost right away which probably was one of the things that saved me, because singing clears the throat chakra

Laugh along even though they’re really laughing at you— I didn’t know it at the time but a bunch of people were mocking me

Look out, they'll tear your insides out

Especially one who thinks it’s all such a laugh —my nervous system shut down in the summer of 2017 from all the stories that I was told

You will never understand

How it feels to live your life

With no meaning or control

And with nowhere left to go— it was not the best time of my life l, let’s put it that way

528 when you die mgmt—

I'm mean and I'm evil

Don't call me nice

I'm gonna eat your heart out

I'm ready, ready, ready to blow my brains out— i’m not sure what to say about this one, but I was told to put these lyrics up. There has been a lot of mention of suicidal ideation I will say.

532 Billie Eilish party favor —And I hate to do this to you on your birthday—From what I understand, there was an ultimatum given on a birthday pretty close to when Jack broke up with me on the street. I was shown that there was some sort of thing that led to it years ago, so this isn’t surprising. But Jack and I had this really good conversation on the phone two days before his birthday, where I mentioned that I was scared he was going to disappear. I believe his response was “why would I do that?”so it did seem a little out

Of left field.

537 REM losing my religion 2–Fronting my reflection

Trying to get eye on you

Like a harness blinded fool

I know I've said too much

It's just my imagination

Consider this

Hint of the century

Consider this

Slip

Brought me to my knees

542 SuperCut Lorde— I was walking home under the BQE yesterday, and I had a flashback to singing this song under there. I needed a place where I could just be loud and spin, and that was the place I ended up going a lot. I’ve said before, spinning is away that the Sufis received messages. Though movement also helps you move through experiences. That was Steel‘s recommendation to me when I was going through the worst of this, was to dance and sing to deal. So I never got that the lyric was

“Be your violent overnight rush”, which pertains to what was happening while I slept. I still don’t have all the details on that, but I know it Has to do with the spirit that was conjured up in the bathroom by the tarot reader, and then the ritual that was done on my bed in January 2017 while I was in Connecticut, hiding from Blond.

545 Summer years death cab for cutie—And I wonder where you are tonight

If the one you're with was a compromise

As we're walking lines in parallel

That will never meet —It seems that the fact that I never ran into Jack nor Blond have to do with a spell. They’re saying there were two separate spells.

I keep being told over and over again that I will never see Jack. That 2017 was the last time.

Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me but I have it 555 Lana Del Rey—This song is super charged for me for many reasons. First, I wore a red nightgown a lot of the time. I played Sylvia Plath in college. They wrote on my walls, and on my pictures, and also used blood on the walls and the tapestries hanging in front of the window.

Not to mention my bed. I don’t think I wrote in a notebook since 2016, even though I went through several notebooks a year every year since my 30s. I finally started using a pen again. 15 your dances refer to the devil, because that’s the number of the card in the tarot.

I lived in a basement in Yonkers in 2020 where they would walk by my windows to scare me and make noises, and where they also knew they could get in the back door because the landlord kept it unlocked, so I did a lot of crying. Once in the laundry room, when there was a guy in the house with a gun and I had to call in the swat team at 6:30 in the morning.

I’ve been on stage since I was six years old on and off.

One of the lines in the song that sticks out the most for me is “serving up God in a burnt coffee pot for the triad.” It took me a couple minutes to get this one. First, there were three who were in charge, and I called them the triad. Two were friends of mine. Or so I thought. Here’s the definition of burnt on urban dictionary.

“The "dead" feeling you get the day after taking a particularly speedy recreational drug, such as ecstasy, cocaine or PCP when you need to spend most the day sleeping as to recover from exhaustion. May or may not be accompanied by hangover-like effects, depending on what you've taken.”

One of those friends who I call the salon Master, because he was always inviting me over for salons, always had drugs on him. I never saw him without doing drugs. Also on a poster board that hung in my apartment in 2018 it’s written Blond got me hooked on Coke, from the time I thought I was talking to my niece on 12/30/17, and was told to get Coke and ecstasy. I was addicted for two years. Probably almost died. Once I went out and met a girlfriend to do some at her place, and when I had come home high as fuck, they had left the door open moved the astrological Clock that I faced for doing rituals. I slept with a kitchen knife by my bed that night. The very next day I went sober, though it only lasted a couple of months because I was so stressed from everything happening.

“Hello, it's the most famous woman you know on the iPad

Calling from beyond the grave, I just wanna say, "Hi, Dad"”—My niece Stella and I have always talked about these lines. How she’ll be the most famous woman because of what happened. Also the high dad line is her wanting to talk to my brother, but knowing we have to navigate that slowly. Very slowly. Nowadays when this song plays, she says I’m the woman on the iPad.

I've been tearing up town in my fucking white gown

Like a goddamn near sociopath— The first time I went to my Santeria for help, he did the numerology of Blond, Jack and myself. When he got to her number, he said “nine can be a sociopath.”

Shaking my ass is the only thing that's

Got this black narcissist off my back

She couldn't care less, and I never cared more

So there's no more to say about that— movement was part of what kept me grounded, and also my nieces death was what led me to the trees, which Completely opened me up just something I’ve never really noticed before. I don’t really have any friends in New York, but I do have the trees.

There's a new revolution—This both refers to the movements for the world to change, and the fact that the world is changing. Psalm 91 mentions the plague. Just FYI.

a loud evolution that I saw

Born of confusion and quiet collusion of which mostly I’ve known—-The things that happened to me through my nieces death and being derailed let me to making spiritual practices my discipline. In January 2020 when I got sober and I realized I was in massive trouble, the trees— this is no joke… Started to teach me what can only be described as clearing practices, to shake off what was happening to me. I still use the things they taught me to this day. I was given the words by the modern mystery school, but the trees taught me how to do alchemy. It was around that time that both plant and animal communication started to come to me. These are not things that I ever took seriously, but I am telling you it is at our disposal.

A modern day woman with a weak constitution, ‘cause I’ve got

Monsters still under my bed that I could never fight off— when I sang this yesterday, this is the line that the spiritual fell to the earth on. They showed me that there has still been a lower realm entity who is in my apartment, Who basically lives in the mattress and does attacks on me while I sleep. To this day I still don’t know how to get rid of this thing. They are saying that it’s not the spirit that was conjured up in the bathroom. That it’s worse.

A gatekeeper carelessly dropping the keys on my nights off—For those that don’t know, I left my keys under the mat for Jack several times. I emailed and texted him about this each time I left them. Unaware that Blond had access to both.

Writing in blood on your walls

'Cause the ink in my pen don't look good in my pad

They write that I'm happy, they know that I'm not—This one is about blond. I remember seeing the blood the first time but not putting it together that it was from whom ever had been in my house. I assumed that my Tantra teacher had given me some thing that was stained, but when I found the blood on the wall over by the picture of Jesus, that’s when I realized. But nothing I ever found could have ever prepared me for what was actually done Behind the scenes. The ink in my pen don’t look good in my pad line have to do with the pregnancy issue. I was told quite a few times that Blond was pregnant, but from what I understand, she knew she couldn’t get pregnant for a long time.

Lastly, most importantly is the title of this song. Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have but I have it. I always had hope for me and Jack, no matter what happened. And it was from holding onto that hope that I could never find my way out of the labyrinth.

It’s also worth mentioning that in March 2020 after being told to throw my keys in the street I was waiting at an Exxon station to be picked up. I waited until six in the morning that night, and I was told that Lana had written the song for me. Supposedly I spoke to Lana, Beyonce, and Kanye that night. I had a notebook with me, and I wrote down what they said. In the next 24 hours Beyoncé asked me to do a clearing on her and Jay Z, and I was told that I was pregnant.

#five years #hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have but I have it #ldr

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