#what are you all doing here??? this blog feels like a gathering behind someone's backyard hhh i can't imagine this many people in a room xD
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*throws my cat at you* HEHEHUWWUWUIE ENJOY THE NEW CAT
your art is so amazing no matter how old or how new it is stop it now you’re one of the best artists i know 🌹🌹🌹✨✨✨⭐️⭐️💞💞💞💕💕💖💖
really??? WAJHGSGBHAG that's so sweet of you to say i'm head in hands going insane over your kind words rn WGHAGHWG THANK YOU SM??? and LEMME have that cat muah muah little muchacho<3333
#ask#i keep thinking i have like ten followers when y'all are SO many#what are you all doing here??? this blog feels like a gathering behind someone's backyard hhh i can't imagine this many people in a room xD#but you guys randomly appear and give me love outta nowhere and i'm just. WOW i swear i drank water today where did it go??#oh i lost it when i bawled my eyes out?? well y'all don't have to be THIS sweet like come ON#just a bunch of kind little muffins being the best like it's their literal job sobbing crying waaa omg<3333#muah muah thanks again for passing by and have an amazing day<3333
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300 DIALOGUE PROMPTS
This is a rebloggable version of my prompt list at my writing blog. This has 105 prompts from my old list and 195 new prompts.
IF YOU USE THESE PROMPTS IN YOUR OWN LISTS, CREDIT @swanimagines !!
LIST A - GENERAL/FUNNY
A1. “Can I take a picture of you?”
A2. “Where do we sleep now?”
A3. “Be quiet, they’ll hear us!”
A4. “I cooked for us! Or tried to cook…”
A5. “Can you explain why my phone is up there?”
A6. “Ugh, people are so weird.”
A7. “Wait, who?”
A8. “But I can’t draw!”
A9. “Your forehead has sauce on it.”
A10. “Stop snoring! You sound like a chain saw.”
A11. “C’mon, you need a reason to get out of here and I have one.”
A12. “No, nooope. I won’t do it. Nope.”
A13. “Do you mean I have to touch that?”
A14. “Wow, a great idea, but I’d rather die.”
A15. “Oh there you are! I thought you had melted through the floor.” “I had plans to do that but then I called them off.”
A16. “I’m trash, just not that kind of trash.”
A17. “Always nagging, aren’t you? Every time I hear your voice, it’s in a language called nag.”
A18. “It’s 6pm, the fridge is mine until 7pm, so… shoo!”
A19: “What’s this?” “I bought you binoculars because now you get to look at them better… or you could go talk to them.”
A20. “I’m gonna hit you.” “What?” “Ugh, that came out wrong.”
A21. “I’m okay. I’m perfectly fine. Yeah… okay, I’m not fine.”
A22. “If you wait for tomorrow, tomorrow is coming. If you don’t wait for tomorrow, tomorrow is still coming.”
A23. “I’m not yelling, I’m discussing with you with a loud voice!”
A24. “Tell me something. Do I look like a bunny?”
A25. “Maybe that secret is that your mom is really a time traveler.”
A26. “Too bad, I wanted to see some ghosts.”
A27. “Not that song, turn it off now!”
A28. “Is this the Heaven?” “More like Hell.”
A29. “Hey keep it down there, I’m trying to sleep!”
A30. “Please don’t use my toothbrush again.”
A31. “Hey, calm down, it’s not so bad…” “Calm down? There’s a riot going on in my bathroom!”
A32. “It’s alright to be a bit crazy. At least a minute of craziness in a day keeps the doctor away.”
A33. “I thought you had left.” “I’d leave without tasting this sandwich? It would be a sign of insanity.”
A34. “The Great King/Queen/Ruler of Food is here again.”
A35. “What can I do… they just love Mr. Bunny.”
A36. “Wait, do we have a permission to do this?”
A37. “As long as that is on my wall, I swear I’m not going to sleep.”
A38. “Pillows? Pfft. Who needs pillows?”
A39. “That’s what you get for being such a dummy.”
A40. “You really need a haircut.”
A41. “You should keep that to yourself.”
A42. “Oh, how could I not say yes to that?”
A43. “Hi and bye!”
A44. “Well, what did you expect?”
A45. “Kick that door down.”
A46. “I’m not drunk!”
A47. “That’s not a stupid idea, it’s an idiotic idea.”
A48. “You’re the type of person who laughs at their own jokes.”
A49. “Oh, I didn’t know you had guests.”
A50. “Oh, are you looking for [insert name]? They’re probably setting themselves on fire right now.”
A51. “Don’t be scared.”
A52. “Did you just smile?”
A53. “Would you wanna go for a walk?”
A54. “My lights are flickering, it’s the infamous Ghost of the Living Room.”
A55. “This cookie is my spirit animal.”
A56. “Don’t be boring, dance with us!”
A57. “You should keep that candy behind locked doors. I might eat the whole bag otherwise.”
A58. “What’s your password?”
A59. “My backyard is not a waterpark.”
A60. “I think you should talk to them.”
A61. “I wish we had more time to chat.”
A62. “You’re smiling.”
A63. “Do you even know how to laugh?”
A64. “Well, it’s busted, no can do.”
A65. “I know what you think.”
A66. “At least I smell good.”
A67. “It happened a long time ago.”
A68. “What exactly should I be looking at?”
A69. “Why your shirt was in my fridge?”
A70. “Argh, don’t you guys ever use Google?”
A71. “I think you’re overreacting.”
A72. “Do you like board games?”
A73. “But it’s so cold!”
A74. “You should really learn to read some books.”
A75. “Wait, I know where your pants are.”
A76. “There’s no one there, dumbass.”
A77. “A fly has been harassing me for weeks.”
A78. “Be honest, do I have to keep this shirt?” “No?” “Dammit!”
A79. “Not my kid, not my responsibility.” “It’s a dog!” “No, it’s your kid.”
A80. “Sorry, I’ll be late.” “Why is that?” “A cat has been sleeping on me for an hour.”
A81. “I’m still bored.”
A82. “I recognize liars when I see them.”
A83. “Well, books usually have text on them.”
A84. “This is the perfect day to piss [Name] off.”
A85. “Get me their phone. Then we’ll talk.”
A86. “Because you’re so young.”
A87. “Hello, I am your servant today, what can I get you, oh Almighty?”
A88. “Why are you hiding?”
A89. “Why are we hiding?”
A90. “Why you would wanna live in a dumpster?”
A91. “It’s snowing!”
A92. “They’re late. Again.”
A93. “My bathroom smells like someone put a fish into my toilet.”
A94. “Don’t tempt me.”
A95. “You know how much I like chocolate.”
A96. “Stand back, this might get ugly.”
A97. “I can’t believe the way you got them arrested.”
A98. “Wait - did you just agree with me?”
A99. “Nah, dying would have been boring.”
A100. “Can’t you have fun for once in your life?”
LIST B - LOVE/FRIENDSHIP/COMFORT
B1. “You’re being shy with me, aren’t you…” “No I’m not!” “Yes you are!”
B2. “You make me feel free.”
B3. “You’re cute when you try not to blush.”
B4. “I might be having feelings for you, I’ve had them for a while.” “Yeah right.” “I’m serious.”
B5. “It’s true. I’ve loved you ever since I got to know you - and even if you don’t feel the same, I’m willing to accept it.”
B6. “What if I told you that there’s a surprise for you outside?”
B7. “Everything is okay now, I’m here, I’m here.”
B8. “My world was black before you came into it.”
B9. “Did you do all this… for me?”
B10. “Did you really think I’d leave without a kiss?”
B11. “I didn’t know there’s a feeling like this.”
B12. “You’re the first person who has understood me.”
B13. “I’m not the person you want in your life.” “Yes you are.”
B14. “People change. And I’m not who I was before. I’m sorry for what I did.”
B15. “Do you… maybe, want to go to grab a coffee with me sometime?”
B16. “I really like you! Uh… I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”
B17. “I know this isn’t very romantic, but…” “It’s romantic enough for me.”
B18. “I’m not like everyone else, you deserve someone better.” “There isn’t anyone better for me than you.”
B19. “What are you doing?” “Showing you how much I love you.”
B20. “Will you make me happy forever?”
B21. “I didn’t know you’re ticklish… this is going to be fun.”
B22. “Your bed could be more comfortable than me.” “Nah, I’m good.”
B23. “You guys are so cheesy it’s disgusting.” “Why, thank you!”
B24. “Can I sleep with you? I need someone by my side.”
B25. “You’re so warm…” “You’re so cold.” “Mmh, that’s why I like your warmth.”
B26. “You’re special to me.”
B27. “Are those my… aaargh gimme those back!”
B28. “I’ve been gathering my courage to talk to you for so long and now… I did it.”
B29. “It’s obvious you like them.”
B30. “Crushing hard, huh?”
B31. “This is the place we first met. And now here we are, years later.”
B32. “Awww, is this you?” “Gimme that!” “No! You’re so cute, look at those pants!”
B33. “You cleaned my house for me while I slept?”
B34. “Wait, did you just call me cute?”
B35. “You’re my only friend, but you’re also the best person in the world.”
B36. “I’ve been in love with you all this time.”
B37. “I care about you, maybe more than I should.”
B38. “Because I love you, you idiotic mufflehead!”
B39. “Honestly, I didn’t believe in strong friendships before I met you.”
B40. “Maybe that’s the reason why we’re friends. You’re as dumb as me.”
B41. “Is that a blush I see?”
B42. “Do you want to go out with me?”
B43. “We’re friends, you can tell me anything.”
B44. “You look like you need a friend.”
B45. “Ah, ah, no tickling! Or no kisses.”
B46. “I made you dinner.”
B47. “I lit up candles and everything, you deserve to relax.”
B48. “You want it, I’ll get it. Don’t try to stop me.”
B49. “You’re the only one that makes me go cheesy.”
B50. “Here, take my umbrella.”
B51. “I think I’m in love… with you.”
B52. “You bought roses for me?”
B53. “Dance with me.”
B54. “Marry me.”
B55. “Babe, we’ll travel the world together.”
B56. “I’ve talked to you once and I already know I’m going to fall in love with you.”
B57. “I heard [name] has a crush on you.”
B58. “You look amazing.”
B59. “Best friends will stand together, even through the harshest of waves.”
B60. “I’ll continue doing this until you smile.”
B61. “Can I hug you?”
B62. “I have always loved you.”
B63. “Don’t worry, you look beautiful.”
B64. “Your flirting is so bad it’s adorable.”
B65. “Do you have to get up? I was just getting comfy.”
B66. “Stooooop, you’re making me blush!”
B67. “Uh-uh, I won’t let you leave without a hug.”
B68. “I’ll be watching over you.”
B69. “I bought you chocolate.”
B70. “I dreamed about kissing you.”
B71. “You’re my best friend, and always will be.”
B72. “Am I dreaming or did you just say you like me?”
B73. “Your smile is beautiful.”
B74. “Have I ever told you how cute you are?”
B75. “I’m with you. I’m home.”
B76. “I would have never believed that one day we’d be so close.”
B77. “We’re friends, right? Friends stick together.”
B78. “I’ll always be here, whenever you need me.”
B79. “You smell nice.”
B80. “I’ve loved you since day one.”
B81. “You built a pillow fort for us?”
B82. “You saved me.”
B83. “You always manage to make me laugh.”
B84. “Thank you for being there for me.”
B85. “Why do you care?” “Because I love you!”
B86. “Do you think of me as a friend?”
B87. “I think I have feelings for them.”
B88. “I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.”
B89. “I can’t believe we’re still friends. I thought we’d grow past the fart joke part.” “What, fart jokes are the best!”
B90. “Good morning, want some breakfast?”
B91. “I’ve missed you so much.”
B92. “Are you cold? Here, take my jacket.”
B93. “I’m gonna dare you to kiss [Name].”
B94. “Oh my god, you like [Name]!”
B95. “They’re in love with you.” “Oh shut it.” “I wish you noticed how they look at you.”
B96. “Breakfast in bed? You’re spoiling me.”
B97. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
B98. “Nobody is perfect. That’s what makes you special.”
B99. “I want you to be happy. You’re worth it.”
B100. “I don’t know how, but you always make me feel happy.”
LIST C - ANGST/ANGRY
C1. “I don’t want to feel anything anymore.”
C2. “I was there… and I didn’t do anything. I’m never forgiving myself for that.”
C3. “It’s none of your business.” “It’s my business if you cry because of me.”
C4. “Let go.” “I can’t.”
C5. “Leave. I don’t want you here.”
C6. “I never loved you.”
C7. “You were never there for me.”
C8. “You did that choice. Not me. You’re in this alone.”
C9. “You left me!”
C10. “It’s time you got to know how it feels to be betrayed.”
C11. “You appreciate some people only after they’re gone.”
C12. “I was willing to stay here with you until the end, but it was you who told me to stay away.”
C13. “No, you don’t have the right to come back to me and pretend that everything is okay again!”
C14. “You disgust me.”
C15. “Fine. If this is how it’s gonna be, then fine. I’m leaving you.”
C16. “They’re not coming back.”
C17. “I failed you. I failed everyone.”
C18. “You’re not worth it.”
C19. “How dare you stand there and tell me you still love me?”
C20. “I was an idiot to ever trust you.”
C21. “I can’t move on, and I don’t want to.”
C22. “I’m disgusted with myself that I once thought of you as my friend.”
C23. “They were my everything, and now they’re gone.”
C24. “It was you who broke our promise.”
C25. “You’re my friend.” “I have better friends than you ever were.”
C26. “I honestly want to set you on fire right now.”
C27. “There’s no one else to blame anymore, you made sure of it. It’s all on you now.”
C28. “I feel like there’s nothing waiting for me anymore.”
C29. “Tell me I’m wrong. Just say it.”
C30. “I love you, but I wish I didn’t.”
C31. “I hope you grow up one day. But I’m not going to be there to see it.”
C32. “What if I’m in too many pieces now to fix myself again?”
C33. “And here I thought that you’d keep your promises for once.”
C34. “Goodbye. Don’t come back.”
C35. “If this is love, I don’t want it.”
C36. “No one never stays, no one ever cares about me.”
C37. “Please, make it stop...”
C38. “It just feels like I can never let go... even if I try.”
C39. “I love them too much. And that always makes me go tumbling down the hill.”
C40. “I can’t do this anymore.”
C41. “Fuck you! Get out of my house!”
C42. “You’re not welcome here.”
C43. “Don’t expect me to fix things you broke.”
C44. “You always lie to me.”
C45. “Could you try stopping thinking like a machine and listen with your heart?”
C46. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone, but with you? I hope life will be torn apart on you.”
C47. “I wish you nothing but pain.”
C48. “I can’t take this any longer.”
C49. “You were my best friend, and you let me down.”
C50. “Forgive you? How could I ever forgive you for what you did?”
C51. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!”
C52. “I can’t feel the pulse.”
C53. “I can’t believe how I ever was a friend of such a toxic person.”
C54. “Everything reminds me about them. I just want to forget them, wipe them out from my life.”
C55. “I’ll be happy once you’re gone.”
C56. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears.”
C57. “You’re wrong, I have never loved you.”
C58. “Go to hell!”
C59. “I want you gone. Now.”
C60. “Oh, now my opinion matters? I wish we had never met!”
C61. “I’ll always hate you.”
C62. “You broke the promise. Again.”
C63. “I’d punch you if you were worth it.”
C64. “Nothing has changed in you, even when I wanted to believe so.”
C65. “Let go of me!”
C66. “Don’t touch me, you filthy scum!”
C67. “You did a bad thing for a good reason.” “But is it worth it if they died because of me?”
C68. “We’d/We’ll never get our happy ending.”
C69. “You’re never changing, are you? Always a dickhead.”
C70. “You’d never understand.”
C71. “I’m dying.”
C72. “I loved you years ago. But that feeling is long gone.”
C73. “I’m happier without you.”
C74. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, how do you expect me to love you?”
C75. “You abandoned me when I needed you the most.”
C76. “Do you think you could just magically waltz back into my life after everything you did?”
C77. “I waited for you for years before I finally found someone who won’t abandon me like you did, and now you come back and think we could be together again?”
C78. “There won’t be “us” anymore.”
C79. “You’ve lied to me all this time.”
C80. “I’m a monster.”
C81. “You’re a monster.”
C82. “Don’t hurt me!”
C83. “I’m leaving you.”
C84. “Please don’t go.”
C85. “I’ll never forgive you.”
C86. “No no no no, stay awake! Please!”
C87. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
C88. “Walk away and don’t come back, or I’ll fucking kill you.”
C89. “We need to get to the hospital!”
C90. “I know you hate me.”
C91. “Oh, so that’s what you think of me?”
C92. “I’m going to sleep on couch tonight.”
C93. “It’s my fault they’re dead.”
C94. “Don’t give me that bullshit, I know what happened!”
C95. “Give me one reason why we should still be together.”
C96. “If you had ever loved me, you wouldn’t have put everything else above me.”
C97. “You said you’d support me with this, but here we are.”
C98. “Why are you even here anymore? Just leave!”
C99. “I’ll be forgotten.”
C100. “Death doesn’t let you say goodbye.”
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The Dark Suburb
((Posting again because the original post on June 11th, 2017 6:09pm is no longer available due to me deleting and re-making this blog.))
This is a compilation post of Nosebleed Club prompts from 2015-16 revolving around the concept of “the dark suburb.”
Family Melodrama
something is wearing your mother
oh god his intestines strung up on the christmas tree
your dog’s body all over the house
banging on cellar doors
a creaking sound in your dead sister’s bedroom
warriors with spears and shields painted on the dining room ceiling of a violent family’s mansion
a woman in an expensive coat and an expensive car headed to her nephew’s funeral
coming home to a completely alien mother
getting a doberman on christmas morning that won’t let you leave the house
the reason your parents fled the city to live in the suburbs
summers in palermo where your father was looking for something
mother’s breakdown in the supermarket
the supernatural car you and your twin got for your 16th birthday
parents strangely and deeply interested in the boyfriend you brought home
a mom urging her son to quit basketball; she senses something is not right
all the holes - dozens of them - your mother dug in your backyard
grandparents hiding the reason your parents are away during your winter holiday break
your best friend doesn’t want to go to your house anymore
grandpa’s ghost followed us into the new house
dad hates her bc she killed her twin in the womb and then her mother
Do I Love You?
your boyfriend’s basketball shorts, his boy-aroma, his ghost between your legs when you watch the video of his last game
girls kissing in a gas station convenience store and a third recording them on snapchat
the boy you like drawing flowers on your ap biology practice test when you switch tests with him to grade
walking across a supermarket parking lot by yourself thinking of a boy you love
red mouth
girlfriend scrubbing the blood off her arms in the bathtub
in a tiny white house in florida, sitting on a beer-can-covered counter, legs spread apart, a boy between them
in a drug-induced haze i left home for his semi truck
he never fucked me without his ski mask on
a girl and a girl and claw marks on the door“don’t ever take me back”
The Occult
the incantation that annihilated a whole suburb
a body that drags other bodies into an oven
the witches gathering in the red lake
inhuman sacrifice
dogs gathered at the edge of town refusing to cross the boundary to the outside
a 10 year old girl with memories of a serial killing spree that occurred when her parents were children
white shirts hanging on branches all over the woods
the town of three-eyed children
arrows raining down on a soccer field
feeding time
mysterious scratch marks on your back
a fairy ring in the field where your sister disappeared
Crimes
just throw it in the back
snap!
we found the body but not the head
clearing in the forest where police found a blessed severed head
jar of baby teeth as evidence
children dressed as angels at the crime scene
seeing a face you thought you buried ten years ago at the supermarket
half a fraternity frozen under a lake
fbi agents rolling into a tiny town in appalachia
a severed arm among the hydrangeas
young men howling on the bridge one year after the murder
police cars prowling through your neighborhood, one after another - watching this from your bedroom window
Teen Dream
getting whipped by a towel in the locker room
best friend making the varsity tennis team
taking a shot of vodka in the bathroom after second period
boy gets a boner during gym class
“i’ll be like helicase i’ll unzip them genes (jeans)”
drunkenly reciting the quadratic equation
fear-mongering homecoming queen
track star died in a car accident
dead bodies photography club
“sorry i fucked up here’s some ice cream” “i’m lactose intolerant you douche”
article about demonic possession in the school newspaper
last pool party before summer ends & her hand on your thigh in your dad’s sports car
the first day back from summer vacation & someone in your friend group brings the whole #squad starbucks
a bonfire, lana del rey & drake blasting, the moon
weekend road trips to the ocean
walking around on the track alone, contemplating some philosophical concept you read about on tumblr the night before
coming out to someone completely random - a junior varsity basketball player
the last homecoming dance
lying on the track at your high school after sunset
getting picked up really early in the morning to go on a spontaneous weekend road trip
the sunday after the homecoming dance where you’re kinda tired kinda still energetic from the night before
inside a fast food restaurant drinking milkshakes eating fries until it closes
chill basement party where there’s white balloons gold confetti / glitter two girls who love each other kissing
sitting in the backseat your parents occupying the front of the car you look out the window you see the rural countryside crawl by
pool pizza party at night simple pleasures like that
on the bleachers during a powderpuff football game
sweating so much you might as well have been swimming it would be embarrassing but all the other boys are sweaty too
lost in the suburbs at like 5am and the world is still pale blue
lost in the city at 5pm the sun sinks its head behind skyscrapers
fights on the lawn of an all boys private school
applying makeup the morning after a breakup
huge friend group made up of oracles + boys’ swim team + legendary heroes + valedictorian
aesthetic blogging on a sunday afternoon just chillin in your bedroom
feeling like you could be something big if you work hard enough at it
getting psychoanalyzed by your teachers and parents and extended family
school bathroom pale blue tiles
a dream with damien hirst-esque elements
sleepover at your friend’s villa and you’re the only one awake
looking out at a black sea from your dead cousin’s bedroom window, seeing a light in the distance
funeral mass
chill that runs down your friends’ spines when you enter the classroom the morning after they tried to kill you
the sickness that spreads through the high school
sometimes i was a body in a dump sometimes i was a saint
he said he’d snapchat my burning body to all his friends
my body was evidence she was trying to get rid of
poison disguised as an eighteen year old
a world war between us
$$$
first: “super rich kids” by frank ocean
fast cars flecked with blood
girls who know you won’t be prosecuted if you’re young and rich and pretty enough
snapchat of a boy with red eyes and a glass of dom perignon with the text IS MY LIFE FUCKING REAL
snapchat of a girl’s dad’s black amex with the words MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS BUT IT GETS CLOSE
taking your middle-class friends out to nice restaurants but knowing they’re with you mainly for the money
“dude i know you’re only a year older than me but sometimes i think of you as my sugar daddy”
traveling to punta del este to find yourself but losing yourself instead
identifying heavily with the versace logo
an imperial bedroom and all one feels is the weight of all that empty space
“even my funeral has to be luxurious”
Hometown Visions
three dead owls on the side of the road
trees bare, houses barren
lanterns lit up on the dirt road at night
moths in a forgotten shed
a dusty old attic filled with dead rats and flies
seeing half your face in a splintered mirror. washing machine making dangerous sounds
midwest: watching a tornado funnel form from a window that won’t shut all the way
grass in the yard growing tall
girls carrying stray cats home
a cellar door swinging open and a man you never wanted to see ever again stepping through it, into the light
snake skins and insect carapaces organized on a torn mattress
a lovely place god abandoned
bat-filled house at the end of the street
a girl crawling out of a burning car
birds in jars
Hide & Seek
not being able to find anyone in a dark forest because they actually left you and it was just a cruel prank
person seeking you is something much worse than what you thought they were
being trapped in your hiding space & no one can find you no matter how loud you call for help
hiding in your friend’s house and finding evidence of a vile crime their parents committed
finding half of your friend
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It’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love | ashton irwin
Well, well, well. It’s really only been about six months since I became active on Tumblr again, but inspired by all of the delightful 5sos blogs and writers I’ve connected with in the last little while, here we have it. A little Ash blurb inspired by this quote from On The Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta (one of my absolute favourite books, would recommend reading!). All of the italics in this piece are additional quotes from the same book. This is the first fic I’ve written in about 6 years, and the first time I’ve ever written for 5sos, so any feedback would be appreciated x
Read part two here, part three here
Small trigger warning for mention of illness and implied death of a family member towards the end.
Word count: 1.3k
(This is a fem reader insert)
I crave someone knowing me so well that they can tell what I’m thinking.
When you’re a kid, you think being a teenager is going to be the best thing that ever happens to you. You’re going to be so grown up, and it’s going to make everything better. And then you become a teenager, and you think you’re basically an adult when you aren’t, but somehow you yearn for the innocence and carefree state of mind you had as a kid. And then you become an adult, but you never feel like one – each birthday comes and goes but you still don’t quite feel like this should be your life.
The one saving grace through childhood and your teenage years was Ashton. Born mere months apart to two women who considered each other sisters, you were inseparable. Teachers tried to get you to make more friends by putting you in separate classes, and you did make a few here and there, but at the end of each day you’d reunite with Ashton on the bus home.
Your mothers tried to get their nursing shifts on opposite schedules, so one or the other would be there when you got home to the houses across the street from one another, but as the years went on it became harder and harder and often you were by yourselves, charged with looking after your siblings. But you and Ash made a good team, so it never felt too much like a chore.
Then came the rebellion, and the sneaking out after dark, and the drinking in random hideaways, and running away when your lives felt like too much. Then the days where you both got your drivers’ licenses at seventeen, and all of a sudden you felt like the grown up era that you’d been waiting your whole life for had begun. You could drive, and you had jobs, and you could start to see yourselves as yourselves, rather than defined by your families or your circumstances or what anyone else thought of you.
But as you grew, your desires changed. You wanted to grow beyond where you were, and achieve something outside of the middle of nowhere suburb you’d called home for so long. Ash wanted this too, for the both of you. But then it only happened for him.
At first when he left it was exciting, because at least one of you got to escape and go on an adventure and make something of the world, but then slowly the distance built the emptiness. Ash would message or call often, and then less, and less, and then not at all. He’d visit at Christmas, or while touring, but understandably he spent time with his family or always seemed to be busy with press or one thing or the other, or he’d be staying in the city, far enough away that you could never bring yourself to go there. You felt close to him in the moments you spent with his family, watching his siblings graduate high school alongside yours, or celebrating your mothers’ milestone birthdays in his absence, but it was more of a longing for the Ash you knew, rather than a relationship with his current self. Because in all honesty, you didn’t know him anymore. And that fucking hurt, but at some point you had to move on.
At the end of the day it's about heart beats and blood flow. People's spirits don't keep them alive.
So you threw yourself into study. You fell in love, and out of it, and then back in, only to have your heart broken more than a few times. You moved a little further from your family, but close enough that you could still be there when they needed you. One day, your mother came by, her eyes sparkling with tears as she told you the news. Three months, the doctors had said. After dedicating her life to caring for others, three months was all the universe gave her to prepare for the end. So once again, your journey took a turn back into being intertwined with your family’s, and you took charge of caring for your siblings in between driving your mum to her appointments and everything else that needing doing in between.
It seemed grim somehow, but she wanted a birthday party. Even though it would be cloaked in a veil of sadness, she wanted to be celebrated while she was still here to see it. So you organised it one weekend, and the weather came good despite it being the middle of winter, and the sun shone as bright as your mother’s soul. You were in the kitchen cutting up some fruit for dessert, when you heard shouts of surprise and scattered applause from where everyone had gathered in the backyard. Glancing out the window, you almost dropped the knife in your hands. Ash was standing in your backyard alongside his mother, giving your own mother a gentle hug. You pinched your arm, hard, and closed your eyes, but then when you opened them again he was still there. Just when you’d finally pushed him out of your mind and your heart and your soul, he was standing right there in your fucking backyard.
Maybe memories should be left the way they are.
No matter how much you wanted to stay put in the kitchen and literally disappear into the floor, you knew you had to face him eventually. What you didn’t anticipate was the door opening quietly behind you, and the sound of a throat being cleared.
“I’m so sorry it took me this long to come home to you.” The American twang in his voice was less pronounced than you remembered from a recent video your mum showed you, but it still made your shoulders tense from the unfamiliarity. You ignored him, and braced your hands against the bench as you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this, love. I can’t even imagine –“ He tried again, before you spun around and glared.
“Don’t.”
You want it to sound harsh and cold, but your voice wavers and you can’t meet his gaze. Because you know, even after all this time, he knows you so well that he can tell what you’re thinking by just looking at you. The tension in the air is thick, until Ash lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and pulls you into his arms and presses his chin on top of your head and breathes you in.
His hold is stronger, and his shoulders are broader, and his scent is different than you remember, but the warmth is the same. The feeling of safety and security and wholeness is the same. Before you can comprehend it, you’re crying, and he’s crying, and you’re holding on so tightly it feels like you’ll never be able to let go. And for a moment you’re the kids on the bus, and the teenagers in a hideaway spot, and everything hurts but also nothing hurts and you just are. Together. And although you know soon your heart will be torn into pieces because of more loss than you’ve ever felt before, and that this moment in Ashton’s arms will end, and he’ll have to leave again, for right now the love in your heart is bursting. And all you need is this moment.
It’s funny how you can forget everything except people loving you. Maybe that’s why humans find it so hard getting over love affairs. It’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love.
More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here
Read part two here, part three here
#my writing#ashton irwin#ashton irwin imagine#ashton irwin one shot#ashton irwin blurb#5sos imagine#5sos one shot#5sos blurb#ash writing#posting this has got me hella nervous but YOLO we're doing it anyway#5sos writing#tw illness#tw death
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office affairs -- part 3
Pairing: CEO!Sam Wilson x Reader
Summary: Sam is the CEO of the Red Wing PR agency where Reader has been working for the past two years. Problem is, they both think one hates the other. However, when their friends set them up on a blind date, they’ll realise that it was all a big misunderstanding.
Warnings: language, Reader is a bit thirsty.
Words: 2.6k
A/N: This series is part of @marvelmaree‘s birthday challenge. You can find the masterlist on my blog and hers!
A/N 2: Guys. I’m so so sorry you had to wait this long. You see, all the updates for this fic were queued. But the gag is, they were queued for next month. How did that happen, I don’t know. But every thing is back to normal now and you should expect a new part everyday (or two days, when I want to create ~ suspense ~). Again, I apologise. I hope you enjoy!
It’s Friday night.
If you weren’t nervous this morning, you sure are now. Why though? It’s not like you haven’t been on a date before. Yes, it’s been a while, but you’re pretty sure you can handle a couple of hours of soft flirting. Not to mention the free dinner.
“Everything’s gonna be fine, relax,” Noelle says for the thirteenth time.
She gives your shoulders a brief squeeze before her hands go back to undoing the flexi-rods in your hair. You agreed that she would style your hair while you’d do your makeup. When you stated that you’d go for your usual soft makeup look, Noelle and the girls encouraged you to step out of your comfort zone a bit. That’s why you went for a – still soft—pink smokey eye paired with a nude lipstick.
After Noelle is done fluffing up your curls, you get dressed in a midi skirt and your favourite dusty pink cashmere sweater. Under your breath, you pray that you won’t spill anything on it.
Once you’re dressed and all your jewellery is on, you get to the living room where Mimi and Noelle are watching TV to show them the result.
“Okay, how do I look?” you ask with a little twirl for good measure.
“Woah, you look like a princess!” Mimi exclaims, looking up at you with stars in her eyes.
“Aw, thanks Mimi!”
“I say you look like you’re gonna order dessert twice,” Noelle says, before taking a sip of her tea.
Your jaw drops. “Noelle!”
Your sister only laughs in response and you roll your eyes playfully. She’s always making this type of jokes in front of Michelle then blames you when the same jokes come out of the little girl’s mouth at totally random and inappropriate times; like that time at a family gathering when everyone was setting up your aunt’s backyard to play dodgeball and Mimi joked that your cousin Samir would be the first person to “take that D”. The memory alone of the silence that followed makes you want to burst out laughing.
Noelle winks at you before you make your way to the foyer to put your coat on.
“Don’t forget to text us when you get to the restaurant!”
“I won’t!”
With that, you’re out the door.
The cab ride to the restaurant seems long, but since you’re lost in your thoughts for most of it, you get there soon enough.
The doorman opens the door to the establishment for you with a polite smile and you thank him with a nod. However, the hostess isn’t that polite. The way she talks to you is a bit rude, and for a minute you wonder if she’s a bitter Becky who’s about to give you a hard time but she just happens to have a stick stuck up her ass.
Instead of the main dining room, she leads you through a dimly lit corridor.
“The rest of your party is already here,” she says. “A waiter will be along in a few moments.”
With a forced smile, she slides the wooden door open and closes it behind you.
You can’t help but let your jaw drop at the sight of the man in front of you.
On the other side of the room, Sam Wilson returns your surprised stare right back at you.
Oh Lord. I will kill them. All three of them. I’ll tell Mimi her mom drowned in the Hudson.
The two of you stare at each other for what seems like hours, unsure of what to say. Your mind goes back to this morning, how you embarrassed yourself, how you shamelessly checked him out.
Speaking of checking him out, he looks absolutely delicious. He swapped this morning’s tan suit for a black suit and a burgundy turtleneck. You’ve seen him in turtlenecks before but this time feels different. Maybe Noelle was right. You might just have two desserts tonight.
“I –”
“You look—”
You both chuckle at the rather awkward situation.
“I’m sorry, you first,” Mr Wilson smiles.
“Actually… I don’t even know what I was gonna say,” you chuckle nervously.
“Well, I was gonna say that you look gorgeous. May I take your coat?”
A smile finds its way on your lips. He’s being nice. “Oh, um, sure.” Sam helps you slide the coat off your shoulders. “I think you look very handsome as well.”
It’s Mr. Wilson’s turn to smile again. He pulls a chair for you and you thank him as you sit.
“I can’t believe they set us up like this,” he chuckles, avoiding your eyes.
Oh. And here you thought every thing was going well. Okay, maybe not well, but you know, you were getting there. But he just had to ruin it. Why even compliment you if he’s going to spit in your face a second later?
Suddenly, the air in the room feels tight around you and you want to leave, get some fresh air and go home.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you almost whisper.
“What?”
“This must be incredibly uncomfortable for you.”
“It is.”
It’s like being slapped in the face by a frozen hand. A giant ice cream hand that leaves sticky residue all over your face. You weren’t ready for him to just flat out admit it. You hoped he would be more subtle about it.
You frown, anger, shame and frustration starting to bubble up inside you.
“In this case, I certainly won’t be the one to keep you,” you say as you stand up.
Making sure to keep your chin up, you get to the coat rack near the door in three long strides, ready to get out of here.
“Woah, wait a minute.”
Mr. Wilson’s hand grabs your wrist, giving it a gentle tug to get you to turn around. When you do so, a frown is still painted on your features.
“I don’t think we understand each other here,” he says.
“Don’t we? I mean, it’s pretty clear to me that you don’t want to spend the rest of the night with a woman who’s one, your employee, and two, someone you’re annoyed by. So please, just let me go and save the last ounce of dignity I still have in me.”
“… You think I’m annoyed by you?”
“Are you gonna make me say it again? Is this a joke to you?”
“No, of course not!” he sighs. “I just—Why would you think that?”
“Well, you’ve never held eye contact with me for more than one second, we’ve never said more than a couple sentences to each other and every time I walk in a room, you immediately get out like I have the—the plague or something!”
He stares at you for a couple of minutes, searching your face for… you don’t even know what, but you refuse to cower under his gaze if that’s what he wants.
“I apologise for my behaviour. I realise now how horrible I’ve been… I get nervous when I’m around you ‘cause I’m scared I’ll make a fool of myself.”
He what?
“You what?”
What in the name of the Lord is happening here? Are you losing your mind? Are you having a stroke? Can you still feel the left side of your body?
He gets nervous when he’s around you? Why?
“Because I like you,” he says, and you realise you thought that last bit our loud. “I’ve liked you since the first day you walked in the office.”
You blink up at him.
There’s no way any of this is real.
“I thought you hated me this whole time,” you whisper.
“I thought you hated me this whole time.”
“But… you’re my boss! Why didn’t you say anything?”
A slight shrug. “It didn’t affect your performance at work or your relationship with your colleagues.”
“Oh…”
You don’t know what to say or do, so you take a few seconds to just process everything he just said. It all makes a bit more sense now, you have to admit. But two years? You’re not that intimidating. Not at all, actually. A small part of you feels like you should apologise for your little outburst as well.
“I’m sorry for, you know, the little outburst. I was a bit rude there.”
“Don’t worry about it. Tell you what. How about, we introduce ourselves again, enjoy this free meal and be ourselves? We’re not co-workers tonight. We’re just two people enjoying their first date. Deal?”
You nod, a grin already on your lips.
“Okay. I’m Sam,” he extends his hand for you to shake. “It’s great to meet you. You look lovely.”
You giggle like a schoolgirl in front of her crush and introduce yourself as well. “You look lovely too.”
“Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
Dinner is excellent. Not only the food, but Sam as well. Turns out Maria and Natasha were right, he is a great guy. He’s the kind of person who totally gets you wrapped in whatever story he’s telling, like the one where he and his friends Steve and James once stole a car in Germany. You love every second you spend with him.
“You said you have a niece, right?”
The topic moved on family once Sam told you that his youngest sister recently became a mom.
“Yes, Michelle. She’s eight.”
“What is she like?”
“It’s gonna sound cliché but, she’s one of a kind. Very smart, kind, and surprisingly good at keeping secrets,” you say.
You can’t help but beam as you talk about Michelle, and if Sam notices, he doesn’t say anything. You tell him about how she likes cars and dinosaurs but also princesses and Bratz dolls, how blue crêpes and pizza are her favourite foods and what it’s like to live with your sister and your niece.
“I’m sorry, I’m sucking up all the air in the room,” you chuckle.
“You’re fine. I like listening to you.”
You take a sip of wine to hide your smile.
“What about your family? What are your sisters like?”
“It depends. They’re both dragons and angels.” You chuckle at that. “But they’ve always had my back and I’m very grateful for them. I couldn’t be where I am today without them.”
“It sounds like you guys are close.”
“We are,” he nods. “Our parents wanted us to know and live by the true meaning of the word ‘family’, and I think it’s the strongest thing ever, you know? And it’s not always about blood ties. Random people you meet along the way can become family as well.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, eating the contents of your plates, forgotten in the heat of your conversations.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing, just—” you shrug. “I feel good right now. With you. This is nice.”
Sam sets his knife down and his hand comes to cover yours on the table. Without a word, you flip your hand so you can lace your fingers with his. You both smile at each other, butterflies dancing in your belly.
You almost curse yourself. It’s too soon for that. But at the same time, why not let go for a moment?
Your friends were right, you needed this. And it looks like Sam did too.
After dessert, you stay at the restaurant for another hour, chatting around a bottle of wine, before the hostess comes around to tell you they’ll be closing house soon. You want to say something about hospitality and customers, but you decide against it. Your heart is too full right now for you to even be bothered by her.
You and Sam stand, ready to put your coats on and leave.
“So…” you break the silence. “What happens now?” you ask, almost shyly.
“Well, we go outside, we get my car from the valet,” Sam takes your hands in his. “And because my mama raised a gentleman, I’m gonna drive you back to your place. I’ll text you when I get home, tell you about what a nice time I had. Then, I’ll give you some space for the rest of the weekend, until Monday morning when you’ll find fifty roses on your desk.”
You giggle. “Why fifty?”
“One for each time I wanted to kiss you tonight,” he whispers, his forehead against yours.
Your breath hitches at his words. Here it is. It’s not like you don’t want to kiss him – you do, but there’s something inside you that tells you that this isn’t just a one time thing. You already miss him and he’s not even gone yet.
Yeah… I’m in trouble, you think.
“Sam…”
“Hm?”
“Kiss me. Please.”
It’s a slow kiss, almost timid. You let him take control as he tests the waters, taking his time to taste your lips, still sweet from the wine. When his tongue slides against your bottom lip, you let him in, and you can’t help but let out a quiet moan as his tongue brushes against yours. He pulls you closer, his arms around your waist.
You break the kiss at the same time, gazing into each other’s eyes as you catch your breath.
“That was…”
“Yeah. It was.”
*
“No, for the last time, I’ll tell you everything at brunch.”
“But I’m your sister!” Noelle almost whines, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. “I should get exclusive info.”
You throw a slipper at her that she easily dodges.
The ride home was calm. You and Sam sat in a comfortable silence the entire time as he drove through the city, the radio softly humming. More than once, you wanted to grab the hand resting on his thigh and just hold it, but you controlled yourself. You didn’t want to seem needy.
“Then you shouldn’t have teamed up with Nat and Maria. Now you guys are in the same boat,” you give her a sweet smile and she narrows her eyes at you.
“Okay fine. But if he texts you—”
As if on cue, your phone lights up with a notification. Noelle looks at you, then your phone and makes a beeline for it by jumping on your bed. Wrong move, because you’re closer to it. You grab it before she even lands on the mattress.
“You really thought you did something, huh?”
She shrugs. “At least I tried. What does he say?”
“Girl, how do you even now it’s him?!”
“I didn’t. Until you told me,” she says, a mischievous smile on her face. She looks like the model in the new Versace campaign… Loki is his name? Anyways.
You roll your eyes and finally unlock the phone, Noelle’s eyes still on you like a hawk.
Unknown: I already miss your laugh.
A giggle finds its way past your lips.
“Girlll, look at youuu!” Noelle pokes your ribs.
“How old are you?” you try your best to sound annoyed but the grin on your lips simply won’t disappear.
“When will you understand that it doesn’t matter how old I am, I will never be too old to tease my little sister?”
You shake your head at her antics and get back to your phone. You save his number immediately.
You: Well aren’t you a sweet talker…
Sam: That I am.
Sam: Seriously though, I had a great time tonight.
You: Me too. I know it’s very early but how does a second date sound?
Sam: Wait that’s my line!
Sam: Sounds great. I can’t wait to see you again.
You’re searching for the right reply when his next text appears with a soft sound. And your heart flutters.
Sam: And to kiss you again.
Yeah… I’m in real trouble.
#maree's29thbirthdaybash#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson imagine#sam wilson fanfiction#sam wilson x black reader
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Caught In Between: 02. New Wolf, Same Problems
IMPORTANT!!! This is content from my original blog @hyperion-moonbabe . It’s being reposted here as this is now my main blog.
Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.
Post Date: 03.27.20
Word count: 4.1k
Based off: 02x07 “Masquerade”
Masterlist
The next morning I wake up next to a half-naked Damon Salvatore clutching my body as I lay my head on his chest. I look up at him, realizing that he wasn’t really asleep, “How long have you been awake?” I ask.
“I just woke up” He responds.
“Mmmhmm… How long have you been just lying here, letting me sleep?” I say.
“Maybe an hour or two.” He replies with a sheepish smile.
I get up, but he pulls me back down, pressing his lips to mine. I pull away and look at him, “ You know you are so darn cute with bed head” I say slightly sarcastic and get up from the bed.
“Why thank you,” Damon says from behind me as I make my way to my bag of clothes.
Damon vamp speeds behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing my neck. “If you bite, I bite,” I tell him.
“I won’t, promise. I just kinda missed this.” Damon says softly. I turn around.
“Look. I…I missed this too. But you’re the one that left and I don’t really think I could continue with this…Us. It’s been two years, I moved on. It was honestly a mistake to stay the night here.” I say as I put on some clothes and start to walk to the door before I feel Damon’s hand grab my arm.
“I’m sorry that I put you through that. But just think about it, please. I miss you.” He responds. I sigh before I continue to walk out of the room.
I head down the stairs and grab an apple from the kitchen before I hear a knock at the door. I open the door, to find Caroline standing in the doorway, looking like she saw a ghost.
“Oh. Hi, umm… Are Damon and Stefan here?” She asks.
“Yeh, I’ll go get them. You can just… wait in here.” I say gesturing to the great room as she steps into the house.
I head back upstairs and into Damon’s bedroom. “Hey, Caroline is here. It seems like she wants to talk to you and Stefan.” I say only popping my head in.
“I’ll be down in a sec. You good?” He says with concern in his voice. Which is very unlike him.
“I’m fine,” I say confused and walk out to go down the hall to get Stefan.
I knock on Stefan’s door, “Hey, Caroline is here. I think she needs to talk to you guys.”
“Alright, I’ll be down in a few.” He responds.
I head back down and sit next to Caroline on the couch. We sit in awkward silence until Damon comes in with a glass full of red liquid, blood I assume. He hands it to Caroline and she takes a sip. “I’m still shaking,” She says.
I look over to the sound of Stefan walking into the room, “ What happened?” He asks.
“Go ahead, tell him. You’re gonna love this.” I could hear the annoyance in his voice, probably from the conversation we had or what Caroline is about to say, “I saw Katherine today.”
“Where?” Stefan asks in response.
“At the grill. I just stopped by to gawk and… quasi-stalk Matt” She replies
“Sorry to interrupt, but who is this Katherine girl?” I ask confused and raise my hand like I’m asking a question in class.
“Long story short. She’s the doppelganger of Elena. And an old lover of baby bro and I’s” Damon says with even more annoyance. I just roll my eyes at him. Caroline then goes on to explain what happened at The Grill and that Katherine wants the moonstone tonight at the masquerade ball or she’ll go on a murder spree.
“She wants to do it in public huh?” I say.
“Killing Mason threw her off guard,” Stefan says following my comment.
“She’s running scared. What she did to Jenna was desperate. She’s out of tricks.” Damon says.
“We can’t underestimate her. We have to play this smarter than her.” Stefan replies.
“Can we just give her the moonstone so she’ll leave?” Caroline questions.
“No, Katherine’s not getting dick. I’ve had it. I’m gonna go to the masquerade ball and I’m gonna kill her, tonight.” Damon says annoyed at Caroline’s question.
“You’re not gonna kill her,” Stefan says sternly
“Don’t give me that goody-goody crap.” I just roll my eyes at Damon.
“You’re not gonna kill her.”
“Really?”
“Because I am, ” Stefan says and Damon smiles at his decision. We all just stand there surprised at Stefan’s response, I know I barely know him but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to kill in cold blood.
“Hey, do you think we could talk for a bit? Away from prying eyes. And ears.” Damon says pulling me away from the group into the hall.
“About what? Plus, there are more pressing matters right now, Damon,” I say and walk back towards the group, leaving him alone. He soon followed after me.
“What was that about?” Stefan says curiously after I start to shuffle through a book.
“Nothing, just your brother being his typical asshole self,” I say trying to brush off the question. I continue to look at the book trying to find answers about the moonstone and the curse.
“It didn’t seem like nothing, I can tell he cares about you but…” Stefan starts to say before we’re interrupted by the front door opening. It was the witch, Bonnie.
Stefan walked towards the front of the house, “Hey, you brought the grimoire, thank you,” He says to her. She looks around and takes in the activity going on.
“What’s going on?” She asks, confused.
“We’re gonna kill Katherine,” Jeremy replies coming from the hall. I follow Jeremy to the table where Damon and Alaric were.
Alaric starts to explain how the weapons he had laid out works. He first describes the crossbows and then looks between Caroline and me explaining the smaller weapon that fits on the wrist. Alaric pulls the trigger and fake jabs like he’s taking a shot at a vampire, Damon just looks at him with a slightly concerned look.
“You wanted me to show you how to kill a vampire,” Alaric responds to the looks.
“Can we talk now?” Damon whispers into my ear. I see Stefan looking me out of the corner of my eye, knowing that he heard Damon. I walk into the hall and upstairs, to make sure we’re away from all ears. I walk into Damon’s room, he follows soon after.
“Athena, let me just start…”
“No, Damon. Look, I care for you. I really do. But I can’t just forget about the fact that you just left me,” I start.
“I mean I could,” Damon says under his breath, knowing that he was hinting at compulsion, even though I can’t because I’m a werewolf. I just give him a stern look.
“Last night was nice, but I’ve had my heart broken enough and I’m not letting you again, I moved on a long time ago. I can see the way you look whenever you see or hear Elena’s name. She looks exactly like Katherine, I’m sure that brings up a lot of memories and feelings. And I just don’t want to get caught in that. But I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I’ll still always be here for you” I finish, pick up my bag and start to walk out. Until Damon catches my arm and turns me to him, putting us face to face, close enough for our lips to touch.
“Athena, I understand. But just know I’ll always care for you and I’ll always be here for you too.” Damon says. I stand there facing him for a bit and then turn away.
I walk back down to the great room. Once everyone is gathered together, we finalize our plan. “Are you sure you guys don’t want me there tonight?” Alaric asks Stefan and Damon.
“No, I need you to stay with Elena. I don’t want her to know about this.” Stefan explains.
“Ok. Well, I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave my sight.” Alaric says.
“Alright, if anybody wants to back out, I’ll understand.” Stefan states.
“Yeh. Cold feet speak now. I don’t want this going wrong if someone chicken’s out. Caroline.” Damon says back to being his dickish self.
“I won’t. Look, she killed me. Fair’s fair. As long as there’s no werewolf running around. I mean besides you Athena, of course.” Caroline responds.
“Oh, I took care of Mason,” Damon says sheepishly.
“As long as Tyler doesn’t kill anyone, he won’t turn,” I restate about triggering the curse.
“Bonnie? Are you with us?” Stefan asks looking at her.
“But no one gets hurt.” She says after a few moments of silence.
“Except Katherine. Tonight Katherine gets a stake through her heart.” Damon says coldly.
I walk back upstairs into one of the many other rooms that I picked to stay in. When I walk in, I see a rack of dresses in the middle of the room and a display of masks on the bed.
“Assumed you didn’t have anything for the ball. So I took the liberty to find some dresses and masks for you, with Caroline’s help.” Damon says from the doorway of the room.
“Thank you,” I say and then he walks away to go to his own room to get ready.
I look at the many dresses lined up, feeling overwhelmed at the choices. After looking at each and every one of them, I chose a tight red dress and a lace black mask.
I walk back down to the great room waiting for Damon and Stefan to leave. Once we were all ready, we headed over to the Lockwood Mansion. We walk into the mansion, Damon and Stefan walk towards the backyard, but I notice Matt so I go up to him. Leaving the two Salvatore brothers to do what they need to do.
“Hey, Matt,” I said tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.
“Hey, you look great,” He says turning to me.
“Thanks, you do too.”
“I’m heading to get Tyler and some other friends. Care to join?”
“Didn’t think I was good enough friends with you to be invited”
“Well, you’ve made an impression,” He says. I chuckle and look down.
I follow him to Tyler and two other girls. We go into another room, what I assume is like an office. We talk a bit while the other girls dance with each other as Matt pours some shots.
“We’re really not supposed to be in here,” Tyler says to us.
“Yeah, I know but we really need to turn this party up. Another shot?” Matt says handing Tyler and I shots.
“Hey, I want a shot,” The girl named Aimee says.
“Me too and then we have to dance,” The other girl, Sarah, says.
“You know, usually it’s me corrupting you. I like this.” Tyler says looking at Matt as we drink our shots. We leave the room to go back to the party. The two girls wander off somewhere, as well as Matt, Leaving just Tyler and me.
“So what’s your deal? You just kinda showed up out of nowhere,” Tyler says turning to me.
“You really want to know a damaged girl’s story?” I respond questioningly.
“Humor me”
“Ok, well, long story short. I moved from here when I was about 4 years old, my parents died at 5, Became emancipated at 15, traveled a bit and now I’m here.” I explain briefly.
“Wow. You’ve had an eventful life.” He responds.
“Yeh, you don’t understand,” I say. I notice Jeremy and Bonnie walking back down, “Excuse me,” I say and walk towards them, they find a table outside to wait. I walk around a bit to see if there’s anything else to be taken care of before I make it over to the table.
“Everything in place?” I say and sit across from them.
“Yeh. Just waiting for the signal.” Jeremy replies back.
We sit in silence for a bit until Jeremy receives a text. He gets up to go approach Katherine, I follow behind him at a distance to keep him from any trouble. Even though I know he’d want to go alone. He approaches Katherine and delivers his message, they chat for a bit until I notice Katherine look at me, so I walk up to them.
“So is this your little bodyguard, Gilbert? Because she doesn’t look like much” She says giving me a devilish look.
Jeremy starts to speak before I interrupt him, “ Athena Dumont, and you must be Katherine Pierce. I may not look like much but I could tear you from the inside out,” I say, flashing my amber wolf eyes. She only chuckles and walks away.
“You don’t have to be like my sister and hover over me, you know that, right?” Jeremy says and turns to me.
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to hover. I just wanted to meet who we’re killing tonight.” I say but Jeremy only looks at me with disbelief before walking away.
He just seems to abandon me so I decided to wander around some more while I wait for them to finish killing Katherine. I hear screams coming from behind a bush near where Bonnie and Jeremy were. I rush over only to find Elena leaning over in pain with blood all over her shirt but no rips.
“She has to be linked to Katherine, guys,” I say looking between them.
“We have to stop them, Jeremy get them to stop! Now!” Bonnie says frustratingly. I chase after Jeremy after he starts running towards the house.
We get to the room where they have her, “Stop! You’re hurting Elena! Everything you’re doing is hurting Elena!” Jeremy says out of breath.
“They’re linked,” I contribute out of breath.
“You think you two are the only ones with a witch on your side? Wrong and something tells me that my witch is better than your witch.” Katherine says menacingly as we all exchange looks.
“Jeremy, go check on Elena. Make sure she’s okay. Go!” Stefan says as Jeremy leaves the hall.
“Let’s all make sure poor Elena is okay. And your little wolf friend, here, is nothing against me, I’ve got 500 years on her. Just a little bit more pressure.” Katherine says cutting her hand with the stake. Stefan quickly hits it away from her.
“I’m right here you know,” I say waving my fingers, as Katherine gives me a fake smile and vamp speeds to pick up the stake, “This is really gonna hurt.” She starts to plunge the stake towards her stomach.
“Wait!” Damon yells and Katherine sits on the couch playing with the stake. “We’ve got this, Athena, just go check on everyone,” Damon says looking concerningly at me, but I don’t budge. Stefan just gives me a nod, telling me it’s fine, and I start to walk away.
“Okay. So, how about that moonstone?” I hear Katherine’s voice slowly get quieter as I continue downstairs.
I bump into Matt, who looks like he’s on a mission, “Sorry,” I quickly reply.
“You good?” He asks me slightly slurring his words.
“Yeh could use a drink, to be honest. Too many people talking to me and asking about my family.” I lie to him.
“Lucky for you I’m on my way to drink some more, wanna join?” He asks giving me a charming smile.
“Why not,” I reply and follow him as he leads me back to the office we were in earlier. I come in to see the girl Sarah and Tyler waiting.
“I hope you guys don’t mind Athena joining us,” Matt says picking up a glass and the bottle of alcohol and pouring me some.
“The more the merrier. So, what happened to Aimee, anyways?” Sarah asks after getting her glass poured.
“She’s probably drunk somewhere” Tyler responds.
“Like me,” Matt says and starts to pour the alcohol on the floor.
“Woah, don’t do that,” Tyler says with a slight tinge of irritation.
“What man? It’s a party.” Matt says and picks up the photo of Tyler and his family from the desk, “Right dad? You know, looks like your dad wants a drink” He says and pours the alcohol on top of the photo.
“Hey, that’s not cool. What’s wrong with you?” Tyler asks more hostile than before. I can sense that Tyler’s dad seems to be out of the picture and that this is just gonna get worse.
“Come on, the guy was a dick,” Matt says smiling and not having a care in the world.
“Come on, you’re being mean. His dad’s dead,” Sarah says quietly from the couch.
“Give me the picture!” Tyler says. He tries to snatch it out of Matts’s hand but he quickly pulls away, spraying alcohol from the movement.
“Matt, that’s enough. Just put the photo down and let it go,” I say from behind him and seeing where this could head. Tyler activating his curse. But Matt doesn’t wavier from my words.
“Remember how your dad used to slap you around?” Matt says and brings his hand up to slap Tyler on the left side of his face.
“Matt!” I say louder from the other side of the desk, but neither of them acknowledges me.
“Are you kidding?” Tyler says getting even more annoyed.
“Just having fun” He responds with an even bigger smile.
“Put the picture down, man,” Tyler says trying to keep his cool. I try to slip my hand near the photo to grab it, but Matt slams it onto the desk sending shards of glass flying in all directions.
I run over to Tyler’s side and put myself between them, “Okay, you need to calm down right now!” I say to his face before he pushes me into the side of the desk and then pushed Tyler who is right behind me.
“I’m not gonna fight you,” Tyler says attempting to keep his cool.
I help Sarah up and gesture for her to move away from them. Matt wrestles Tyler to the floor, Tyler tries to push Matt off but gives an opening to allow Matt to punch him in the face a few times. I try to intervene by pulling Matt off but he just elbows me in my face, leading to me knocking my head on the corner of the desk, and passing out.
I wake up to see Caroline standing in between them, with a confused look on her face, “I have to finish!” Matt says and it clicks, he’s compelled to make Tyler trigger his curse. I scoot out from under them and punch Matt in the face, knocking him out. Caroline walks over to Matt to check to see if he’s okay. Tyler looks over to me confused and I just sigh as I catch my breath.
“How did you…?” Tyler says looking at Caroline and me before being cut off.
“Matt failed. If Matt fails, I can’t” We hear Sarah say from behind us.
“Tyler, look out!” I say trying to push him out of the way. But Sarah was able to stab the knife into his shoulder, which led him to push Sarah and hit her head on the corner of the desk. I rush over to check on her and Tyler does as well.
“No, no, no! Come on, wake up! Sarah, open your eyes, wake up! This can’t happen, oh no, this can’t happen. This can’t be happening! Sarah! Sarah, get up! Sarah! Open your eyes! This can’t be happening! Not like this!” Tyler says frustratingly.
Caroline comes over and I check Sarah’s pulse, but I don’t find one. I look up to see Tyler gripping his head and grunting in pain. I slowly get up and so does Caroline, “Get away!” Tyler struggles to get out.
“What’s happening?!” Caroline questions. I just keep her back because I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Tyler looks up at us and his eyes turn amber.
After the pain from the activation was over I rushed over to Tyler, “Are you ok?” I ask crouching at his level and start to help him up.
“So what are we gonna do? I mean we have to tell someone, we can’t just leave her here.” Caroline sputters.
“Is there anyone we can tell? Are you guys good at telling lies?” I ask looking between them.
“We could just say that she was drunk dancing and tripped and then just wasn’t like alive anymore,” Tyler suggests questingly.
“That’ll work, I’ll go get Mayor Lockwood,” Caroline says and walks out of the room.
Caroline and Carol Lockwood enter back into the office. She explains what happened as I walk out to Tyler who’s waiting for the sheriff in the entryway.
“Here, are you good?” He asks handing me a towel. I’m guessing for my forehead.
“Thanks, I’m fine. It’ll heal.” I respond.
“Mom, the sheriffs here,” Tyler says as we walk back into the office.
“I’ll go prepare her, just don’t leave. Just stay here okay? She’s going to want to hear the story from you.” Carol says looking right at Caroline before she walks out to talk to the sheriff, who I learned is Caroline’s mom.
Tyler walks over to look at Sarah’s body once again, “Matt’s in the car, sleeping it off. I’ll deal with him. I don’t want him involved in any of this.” Caroline says with a hint of sadness in her voice.
“What are you doing?” Tyler asks walking right up to Caroline’s face.
“Why? I did this. I killed her.” Tyler states.
“You didn’t mean to Tyl–” I start walking up to them.
“But she’s dead. You guys don’t know what that means.” Tyler scoffs.
“Actually, Tyler, I think we do,” Caroline says quieter.
“No, you guys don’t,” Tyler says thinking that we don’t know about the curse.
“Has your wound healed?” I ask gesturing to his shoulder. Tyler unbuttons his shirt and feels where the knife was stabbed into him and makes a questioningly look at us.
“How did you guys…?” He questions. I pull my hair back a bit to reveal where my head was hit, showing him that my wound is gone. The sheriff and Mayor Lockwood walk back in and Caroline explains the fake story again.
Everyone had left the party except a few of us and they took care of Sarah’s body. “ Do you have a ride home?” Mayor Lockwood asks walking up to me.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to stay over at Elena’s, Mrs. Lockwood,” I respond knowing that Damon and Stefan had abandoned me here as I saw them walk out before I could catch them.
“Please call me Carol. Ok, be safe.” She says.
“Thank you, Mrs.–, Carol,” I say and give her a small smile.
“You’re welcome,” She says and walks away.
Tyler walks up to me to waits until Elena is ready to go. “So, are you uh, werewolf?” Tyler asks me.
“Yeah,” I respond as he opens the door.
“How long?” He asks.
“About two years now,” I tell him. He gives me a slight nod before Elena walks up.
Elena and I head to her house, get ready to go to bed and are about to fall asleep, but I get interrupted by a phone call. “Damon Salvatore” lights up on the screen, but I ignore it. He calls two more times, I decide to pick up the third call.
“Ugh, I think I have to take this,” I say looking over at Elena and getting up to go into the bathroom.
“Yes” I answer annoyed.
“I’m sorry I left you. We had to deal with Katherine. I can come to get you now, wherever you are.” He said and actually sounded like he felt bad.
“I’m fine, I’m staying at Elena’s tonight. No need to worry. Now I’m going to sleep” I say annoyed and hang up.
“What was that about?” Elena asks as I emerge from the bathroom.
“Just Damon trying to be my protective, not boyfriend,” I say and roll my eyes.
“So you guys were a thing?” She asks me.
“If you count being his personal blood bag two years, that he seems to really care about, a thing. Then yes.” I chuckle.
“I am going to have to hear more about this, but we’ll save it. It’s been a long night. Good night.” She says.
“Night,” I say and pass out faster than I have in a long time.
A/N: Here is the second chapter of the story, based on 02x07 “Masquerade”. Sorry that it took a month for this part! I got engulfed in school and then with everything going on. My classes ended up being moved online so, I came back home, and I’m also in the process of moving houses. Please let me know what you guys think, any feedback is greatly appreciated. I hoped you enjoyed and Thank you for reading! Stay safe and healthy everyone!
#the vampire diaries#the originals#bonnie bennett#elena gilbert#jeremy gilbert#caroline forbes#matt donovan#tyler lockwood#damon salvatore#stefan salvatore#TVDCIB
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Periwinkle
Characters: Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader
Word Count: 1,692
Warnings: fluff, implied smut at the end
Summary: Matthew needs a password to get into the snow fort, you need a password to get him into bed.
Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.
This is the December 13th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: “You need a password to enter my snow fort”
Feedback the glue that holds my writing together
Tags at the bottom
The hardest thing you’ve ever had to do was try and find a person who will accept you for who you are. Every boyfriend you’ve ever had either wanted you to mature and grow up, wanted you to act more like them, and always wanted you to change into the person they wanted to be with. They didn’t like being with the woman who played the license plate game while in cars, or the woman who splashed in the puddles while on a walk, or even the woman who watched cartoons. The men you dated were all so boring until you met Matthew.
Ever since him, you never had the feeling he was trying to change you at all. In fact, you two thrived on one another’s company.
You’re very child-like at heart, and you are lucky enough to find a man who is just like you. Just last week, you two were on swings at your neighborhood park to see who can jump the farthest. It took a lot of skills not to get hurt, but you two had fun while doing it. Jumping off swings was fun back when you were a child; now that you’re almost thirty-seven, it hurts a bit more. Still, you and Matthew had a ton of fun to see who can get hurt the fastest.
A few years ago, you and Matthew went to the beach while he was in California for Criminal Minds. He flew you out to him just so he could take you to the beach on the weekend. The best part about going to the beach isn’t the waves, sandcastles, or getting a tan; it’s running from the water as it washes up onshore. The very first thing you did was run to the edge of the shore and watch as the small waves formed in the distance. The closer they got, the more distance you put between you and the saltwater. When it washed up on shore, that’s when you ran like hell back to where Matthew was watching with a huge grin.
This time, he decided to join you in your adventures, and let’s just say, it didn’t go exactly as planned.
“Come on, it’s fun. The goal of the game is to not get touched by water. Run like hell, but don’t get touched by the water,” you explained.
“I know how it works,” he laughs playfully.
Both of you got ready at the starting line, and your feet were more than ready to bounce when the water came rushing back to shore. People were looking at you and Matthew with strange looks, but you didn't care about them. As long as you were having fun with Matthew, that is all that matters to you. The waves crashed upon the shore, and you two booked it away. Your feet must have slipped on the damp sand because you tripped and fell, causing the frigid waters to roll over your body. The shriek you let out is why Matthew turned around.
He let out a cackle as you stayed on the sandy ground. He walked closer to you to help you up, but you made sure to time this perfectly. The next wave was coming closer, and as soon as it was within a reasonable distance, you grabbed Matthew’s leg and pulled it from underneath him. He came crashing down next to you just as the second wave rolled over you two.
It was your turn to laugh loudly at him.
Beach days were so much fun with him, but the best time is when you two are bored at home. When you’re bored, that’s when your imagination gets loose and anything can happen in the Gubler home. He doesn’t appear in magazines very often, but when he does, and you’re bored, then they better watch out. Whenever they come in the mail (since you obviously got a subscription), you’d have a black marker ready to draw. Every doodle you’d sketch onto his face would be different; you even have a drawer full of the ones you drew on and cut out to save. He doesn’t know about the drawer, and you’re only going to show him when you have enough to make a large collage of them.
The smile on your face would be prominent as you doodled since you usually did this in secret. Matthew caught you doing it once, and you thought he’d yell at you for being childish and to throw it away. He just stared at you from behind the couch, and you had a nervous look on your face as if he was going to yell at any moment. The only thing he did was jump over the back of the couch, grabbed a marker, and asked to join.
He is the best partner for you since you can be your true self around him. He’s a child at heart, so you two are a perfect pair for one another. It’s not best to leave one of you unsupervised, but since he’s at work, and you’re at home, you thought you would go to the backyard and make something you’ve always wanted to make but never had the patience for in the past: a snow fort!
Just recently he got a snow machine to grovel it out of the wall for cars, but you use the machine to pile the snow into one big pile. You would take a break and let this simmer for a few days, but you didn't want Matthew to know what you were doing in the backyard. The snow machine was fast, but it wasn’t fast enough. It took the majority of the day with non-stop work to get the pile of snow you wanted. Once that was done, it was time for carving.
Since the snow had time to sit in a pile, it was tough to carve out a hole big enough to fit two people, and a cave wide enough to feel comfortable. You have to have enough snow on top so it doesn’t save in, and you must have enough snow all around the fort so it doesn’t collapse. This is taking all of your energy and creativity you had saved for the whole week, but you manage to get it done.
By the time you’re finished, it’s dark, which means you get to bring out the Christmas lights you dug up just for this. You plug it into the side of the house and let the cords run across the ground to the fort. You stick them in the snow all around to make it festive until you’re happy with the way it looks.
To make it homier, you gather some snacks that will survive in the cold, blankets that you don’t mind getting wet, and a few throw pillows. Once you’re finished with it, it looks like someone’s living room if that living room is made of snow. Matthew should be home any second now, so you crawl inside the fort and admire the work you’ve done all day.
Matthew arrives at home right on schedule, and he looks around the house for you since you’re always there to greet him with a kiss. The fact that you’re not tells him you’re up to something. He loves finding out what you did all day, so he goes on a hunt for his girlfriend. You’re not anywhere on the first floor, and he’s about to go upstairs when he spots the Christmas lights outside.
He makes his way to the backyard and smiles at the work you’ve done. There is a blanket covering the entrance to your fort like it’s the door to the place. He puts his hand on the blanket so it doesn’t freeze on the snow and calls out your name. The blanket swings open and your head pops out to greet him.
“You need a password to enter my snow fort,” you say seriously.
“Lounge potato,” he guesses.
“Nope.”
“Psychopathic drums.”
“Wrong again!”
Matthew thinks about his next guess. He thinks about the stories you’ve told him about when you were a child, and how you always had to build secret forts out of virtually anything just to get away from your brothers. If they wanted to come in, they would need to guess the password. You always had the same password for everything, and his eyes lit up when he remembered what it was.
“Periwinkle.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say that in the first place? Come on in!” you grin and allow him to crawl in. When you made the fort, you didn't take into consideration that he’s a 6’1 giant, and he basically has to bend parts of his body he didn’t know could bend.
“Sorry, it’s so tiny in here,” you chuckle apologetically.
“I like it. You did this all day?”
“I was bored!”
“Your best ideas come out when you’re bored,” he compliments.
He leans in for a kiss, and you accept it with welcoming lips. Despite it being very cold here, his lips warm up your entire body. He hasn’t seen you all day, and all he really wants is to spend the night with you in bed. He moves his lips to underneath your ear, and you feel a tickle coming on. He knows your neck is very ticklish, and only when you are seriously in the mood, you can’t help but giggle.
“Matthew,” you giggle like a schoolgirl.
“Let’s go inside where it’s warm. But you need a password to get into bed with me,” he says playfully.
“Mm, is it ‘I love you’?”
“Nope.”
“What about ‘you’re the most gorgeous person on the planet’?”
“Wrong again,” he smirks as he plants another kiss on your neck.
“Oh, I know. It’s ‘fuck me until I can’t walk’.”
“Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” he jokes and exits the fort.
He tugs on your legs, and you squeal in surprise. He lifts you up and leaves the snow fort hastily. He brings you inside the glowing house with the intention of never leaving the bed once.
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I have something I’ve been thinking about, especially now that I’m back over on Twitter (admittedly with a new account than I’d had before) and have been trying to reconcile how I utilize different platforms and why.
Long rambles so I’ll be sure to tag this long post and put under a read more.
TL;DR - I essentially traumatized myself for a political group doing research after the 2016 election, and while I thought I could handle it I found out I could not. I walked away from politics and at the same time discovered that fandom/fanfic writing was alive and well and I lost myself into writing for DA. I literally did actively avoid politics through tumblr and fandom because it was what I needed to heal. It’s why I’ve been such a shitty ally, and while I know that doesn’t excuse my inaction and silence, it hopefully explains why I hid behind privilege and often didn’t speak up. However, moving forward, that will be different.
I can no longer stay silent.
Almost four years ago, after crying my eyes out on election night, I became part of a group that was trying to decide what the fuck we could do moving forward. We all took up roles and duties we were suited for, and at the start mine was to delve into research. I was good at it, and at the time I assured them that I was able to read things that could make your skin crawl and walk away unscathed. It was a skill we needed.
And so, I set to work. I dove into the world of pro-Trumpers, the alt-right, the radicalization of young white men through the internet, and I worked on learning. I would spend my days reading reddit, 4chan, wherever I could find them gathering and sharing their ideas and plans. I took notes. I studied their lexicon and wrote it down. I figured out how they dog whistled and what terms they used around “normies” to try to bring them into the alt-right. I studied how they were trying to “red pill” people. I studied the way they actively were trying to push the Overton Window so that their ideas could be enacted further down the road.
For weeks this was all I did.
At first I was fueled by my rage and disbelief at the election, and I was hopeful we could figure it out soon and overcome. As time went on, though, I lost that hope. I couldn’t walk away from the research unscathed. I carried it around with me, crying over what I was reading, what I was discovering. The depths of hatred in people shook me to my core, as well as the realization that I had been blind to it and even a part of it at one point.
I was raised by conservatives who admire Ayn Rand, after all. It took me living out on my own and speaking to people from all walks of life that I finally began to shed both religion and my formerly held political views. Two of my closest friends are the children of illegal immigrants. They were the first of their families to graduate from college. Going to their graduation party (as well as others for their families) changed my whole world. Being the only white, English speaker in a room was exactly the kind of experience a lot of people in our country need to have.
And now I was having to research people who actively hated some of the best people I’ve ever met, and also actively worked to never be in the sort of situations I had found had changed me so completely as a person.
I gave up. I sank into such a deep depression I took to drinking more, drinking so that I could sleep instead of staying up until 5am, until I had to go seek a counselor. I was in a red state, in military healthcare, and my counselor only saw the symptoms and side effects of my depression, not the cause. I didn’t feel safe telling her that I was thoroughly depressed because of what I saw happening to my country. Because of the election.
So instead I was treated as an alcoholic, as if that was not a symptom and was in fact the main cause (don’t @ me, I know it makes it worse. But it was not the cause.)
Then I discovered Mass Effect for the first time. And I replayed Dragon Age. I fell in love with Garrus and once more with Alistair and Fenris and Cullen. Late at night, a little tipsy and wishing Garrus had had more of a romance, I googled him and discovered Ao3. And I began devouring fic. And then I had an idea for my own (Goose Bumps).
The rest is well-documented history, here.
I sought refuge in fandom and fanfic. I sought refuge in telling stories. I admittedly used some problematic tropes when I first started out, so enthralled by just finally *writing* again that I didn’t pay attention to how I was consuming the media. I hadn’t written in so long, having hit writer’s block with a mystery I’d been working on (inspired by the “sundown” town I had to visit in-laws in in Illinois), and the act of just writing anything was so liberating for me I gave little thought to anything else.
Never mind the fact that my first real interaction with someone in fandom led to me being manipulated, gaslit, and abused. We’ll gloss over that part.
But these things all compiled into a me who was no longer vocal when I saw things that were more than just concerning and needed to be addressed. I ignored things that made me angry. I saw mutuals sharing important political messages and my heart would start racing and I would log out for the day. I couldn’t see the content without having an adverse reaction to it. I also didn’t want to make myself a target by saying anything - after all, I had written fics and been targeted by an abuser simply for that. What sort of reaction would I get if I helped to call out problematic art and artists?
I was frozen by fear.
I let myself be silent. I let myself take refuge in my privilege as a white cis woman. I let myself only write and block anyone who was racist/sexist/ableist/terfs/you name it. I blocked and moved on.
Because I could.
I had that luxury.
I am no longer frozen by my fear. I am now emboldened by it. I understand wanting to seek refuge in fandom. I do. If moving forward me being political here on this platform causes you distress and you have to unfollow me, trust me.
I get it.
But I can no longer allow my silence to enable those who seek to cause harm. I can no longer stay silent in the face of what is happening in the world, in my country, in my backyard - in my fandom.
This is not in response to anything more than my determination to be better than I was. For three years I’ve allowed myself to seek shelter, while not allowing others the same decency or courtesy by creating a safe space free of racism or other harmful ideologies. I’m not the only one who deserves to seek shelter in fandom. White women are not the only ones who deserve to seek shelter in fandom.
If those statements seem radical or uncomfortable to you, feel free to show yourself the door.
This is not an attempt to explain away my past (in)actions. I don’t need pats on the back. I don’t need reaffirmation. These thoughts have just been circling in my head now that I’ve finally reconnected with that group and have been politically active on Twitter and my personal Facebook again. This blog is still mostly fandom and shitposts. But I also want to be better in how I participate here, instead of keeping it just to my Twitter.
Racists, TERFs, homophobes, sexists, fascists (yes, you’re a fascist if you’re “anti-antifa” get fucked), nazis, etc - none of your like are welcome here. My art is not for you.
#long post#personal#needed to ramble this out of my system#tw racism#tw alt-right#i'm determined to be better#and i will no longer be silent#this is not an excuse#i just needed to conquer my own trauma and now even if it still causes me distress#i have to act#tw: alcholism#tw: alchohol mention#forgot those two
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Caught In Between: 02. New Wolf, Same Problems
IMPORTANT!!! TO ANYONE FOLLOWING OR READING MY TVD SERIES: This blog is currently my secondary blog. I have wanted to change it to primary for a while and since Tumblr does not allow it. I have created a new blog: @hyperion-moonbabe-new
I will be porting everything over to this blog including my series and possibly eventually delete it so I can use this name without the “-new” on the end. If you would like to continue to read my series, please know that it will be continued on my new blog. Thank you!
Edit: Update
Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.
Post Date: 03.27.20
Word count: 4.1k
Based off: 02x07 “Masquerade”
00. | 01.
The next morning I wake up next to a half-naked Damon Salvatore clutching my body as I lay my head on his chest. I look up at him, realizing that he wasn’t really asleep, “How long have you been awake?” I ask.
“I just woke up” He responds.
“Mmmhmm… How long have you been just lying here, letting me sleep?” I say.
“Maybe an hour or two.” He replies with a sheepish smile.
I get up, but he pulls me back down, pressing his lips to mine. I pull away and look at him, “ You know you are so darn cute with bed head” I say slightly sarcastic and get up from the bed.
“Why thank you,” Damon says from behind me as I make my way to my bag of clothes.
Damon vamp speeds behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing my neck. “If you bite, I bite,” I tell him.
“I won’t, promise. I just kinda missed this.” Damon says softly. I turn around.
“Look. I...I missed this too. But you’re the one that left and I don’t really think I could continue with this...Us. It’s been two years, I moved on. It was honestly a mistake to stay the night here.” I say as I put on some clothes and start to walk to the door before I feel Damon’s hand grab my arm.
“I’m sorry that I put you through that. But just think about it, please. I miss you.” He responds. I sigh before I continue to walk out of the room.
I head down the stairs and grab an apple from the kitchen before I hear a knock at the door. I open the door, to find Caroline standing in the doorway, looking like she saw a ghost.
“Oh. Hi, umm… Are Damon and Stefan here?” She asks.
“Yeh, I’ll go get them. You can just... wait in here.” I say gesturing to the great room as she steps into the house.
I head back upstairs and into Damon’s bedroom. “Hey, Caroline is here. It seems like she wants to talk to you and Stefan.” I say only popping my head in.
“I’ll be down in a sec. You good?” He says with concern in his voice. Which is very unlike him.
“I’m fine,” I say confused and walk out to go down the hall to get Stefan.
I knock on Stefan’s door, “Hey, Caroline is here. I think she needs to talk to you guys.”
“Alright, I’ll be down in a few.” He responds.
I head back down and sit next to Caroline on the couch. We sit in awkward silence until Damon comes in with a glass full of red liquid, blood I assume. He hands it to Caroline and she takes a sip. “I’m still shaking,” She says.
I look over to the sound of Stefan walking into the room, “ What happened?” He asks.
“Go ahead, tell him. You’re gonna love this.” I could hear the annoyance in his voice, probably from the conversation we had or what Caroline is about to say, “I saw Katherine today.”
“Where?” Stefan asks in response.
“At the grill. I just stopped by to gawk and… quasi-stalk Matt” She replies
“Sorry to interrupt, but who is this Katherine girl?” I ask confused and raise my hand like I’m asking a question in class.
“Long story short. She’s the doppelganger of Elena. And an old lover of baby bro and I’s” Damon says with even more annoyance. I just roll my eyes at him. Caroline then goes on to explain what happened at The Grill and that Katherine wants the moonstone tonight at the masquerade ball or she’ll go on a murder spree.
“She wants to do it in public huh?” I say.
“Killing Mason threw her off guard,” Stefan says following my comment.
“She's running scared. What she did to Jenna was desperate. She's out of tricks.” Damon says.
“We can't underestimate her. We have to play this smarter than her.” Stefan replies.
“Can we just give her the moonstone so she'll leave?” Caroline questions.
“No, Katherine's not getting dick. I've had it. I'm gonna go to the masquerade ball and I'm gonna kill her, tonight.” Damon says annoyed at Caroline’s question.
“You're not gonna kill her,” Stefan says sternly
“Don't give me that goody-goody crap.” I just roll my eyes at Damon.
“You're not gonna kill her.”
“Really?”
“Because I am, ” Stefan says and Damon smiles at his decision. We all just stand there surprised at Stefan’s response, I know I barely know him but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to kill in cold blood.
“Hey, do you think we could talk for a bit? Away from prying eyes. And ears.” Damon says pulling me away from the group into the hall.
“About what? Plus, there are more pressing matters right now, Damon,” I say and walk back towards the group, leaving him alone. He soon followed after me.
“What was that about?” Stefan says curiously after I start to shuffle through a book.
“Nothing, just your brother being his typical asshole self,” I say trying to brush off the question. I continue to look at the book trying to find answers about the moonstone and the curse.
“It didn’t seem like nothing, I can tell he cares about you but…” Stefan starts to say before we’re interrupted by the front door opening. It was the witch, Bonnie.
Stefan walked towards the front of the house, “Hey, you brought the grimoire, thank you,” He says to her. She looks around and takes in the activity going on.
“What’s going on?” She asks, confused.
“We’re gonna kill Katherine,” Jeremy replies coming from the hall. I follow Jeremy to the table where Damon and Alaric were.
Alaric starts to explain how the weapons he had laid out works. He first describes the crossbows and then looks between Caroline and me explaining the smaller weapon that fits on the wrist. Alaric pulls the trigger and fake jabs like he’s taking a shot at a vampire, Damon just looks at him with a slightly concerned look.
“You wanted me to show you how to kill a vampire,” Alaric responds to the looks.
“Can we talk now?” Damon whispers into my ear. I see Stefan looking me out of the corner of my eye, knowing that he heard Damon. I walk into the hall and upstairs, to make sure we’re away from all ears. I walk into Damon’s room, he follows soon after.
“Athena, let me just start…”
“No, Damon. Look, I care for you. I really do. But I can’t just forget about the fact that you just left me,” I start.
“I mean I could,” Damon says under his breath, knowing that he was hinting at compulsion, even though I can’t because I’m a werewolf. I just give him a stern look.
“Last night was nice, but I’ve had my heart broken enough and I’m not letting you again, I moved on a long time ago. I can see the way you look whenever you see or hear Elena’s name. She looks exactly like Katherine, I’m sure that brings up a lot of memories and feelings. And I just don’t want to get caught in that. But I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I’ll still always be here for you” I finish, pick up my bag and start to walk out. Until Damon catches my arm and turns me to him, putting us face to face, close enough for our lips to touch.
“Athena, I understand. But just know I’ll always care for you and I’ll always be here for you too.” Damon says. I stand there facing him for a bit and then turn away.
I walk back down to the great room. Once everyone is gathered together, we finalize our plan. “Are you sure you guys don’t want me there tonight?” Alaric asks Stefan and Damon.
“No, I need you to stay with Elena. I don’t want her to know about this.” Stefan explains.
“Ok. Well, I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave my sight.” Alaric says.
“Alright, if anybody wants to back out, I’ll understand.” Stefan states.
“Yeh. Cold feet speak now. I don’t want this going wrong if someone chicken’s out. Caroline.” Damon says back to being his dickish self.
“I won’t. Look, she killed me. Fair’s fair. As long as there’s no werewolf running around. I mean besides you Athena, of course.” Caroline responds.
“Oh, I took care of Mason,” Damon says sheepishly.
“As long as Tyler doesn’t kill anyone, he won’t turn,” I restate about triggering the curse.
“Bonnie? Are you with us?” Stefan asks looking at her.
“But no one gets hurt.” She says after a few moments of silence.
“Except Katherine. Tonight Katherine gets a stake through her heart.” Damon says coldly.
I walk back upstairs into one of the many other rooms that I picked to stay in. When I walk in, I see a rack of dresses in the middle of the room and a display of masks on the bed.
“Assumed you didn’t have anything for the ball. So I took the liberty to find some dresses and masks for you, with Caroline’s help.” Damon says from the doorway of the room.
“Thank you,” I say and then he walks away to go to his own room to get ready.
I look at the many dresses lined up, feeling overwhelmed at the choices. After looking at each and every one of them, I chose a tight red dress and a lace black mask.
I walk back down to the great room waiting for Damon and Stefan to leave. Once we were all ready, we headed over to the Lockwood Mansion. We walk into the mansion, Damon and Stefan walk towards the backyard, but I notice Matt so I go up to him. Leaving the two Salvatore brothers to do what they need to do.
“Hey, Matt,” I said tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.
“Hey, you look great,” He says turning to me.
“Thanks, you do too.”
“I’m heading to get Tyler and some other friends. Care to join?”
“Didn’t think I was good enough friends with you to be invited”
“Well, you’ve made an impression,” He says. I chuckle and look down.
I follow him to Tyler and two other girls. We go into another room, what I assume is like an office. We talk a bit while the other girls dance with each other as Matt pours some shots.
“We’re really not supposed to be in here,” Tyler says to us.
“Yeah, I know but we really need to turn this party up. Another shot?” Matt says handing Tyler and I shots.
“Hey, I want a shot,” The girl named Aimee says.
“Me too and then we have to dance,” The other girl, Sarah, says.
“You know, usually it’s me corrupting you. I like this.” Tyler says looking at Matt as we drink our shots. We leave the room to go back to the party. The two girls wander off somewhere, as well as Matt, Leaving just Tyler and me.
“So what’s your deal? You just kinda showed up out of nowhere,” Tyler says turning to me.
“You really want to know a damaged girl’s story?” I respond questioningly.
“Humor me”
“Ok, well, long story short. I moved from here when I was about 4 years old, my parents died at 5, Became emancipated at 15, traveled a bit and now I’m here.” I explain briefly.
“Wow. You’ve had an eventful life.” He responds.
“Yeh, you don’t understand,” I say. I notice Jeremy and Bonnie walking back down, “Excuse me,” I say and walk towards them, they find a table outside to wait. I walk around a bit to see if there’s anything else to be taken care of before I make it over to the table.
“Everything in place?” I say and sit across from them.
“Yeh. Just waiting for the signal.” Jeremy replies back.
We sit in silence for a bit until Jeremy receives a text. He gets up to go approach Katherine, I follow behind him at a distance to keep him from any trouble. Even though I know he’d want to go alone. He approaches Katherine and delivers his message, they chat for a bit until I notice Katherine look at me, so I walk up to them.
“So is this your little bodyguard, Gilbert? Because she doesn’t look like much” She says giving me a devilish look.
Jeremy starts to speak before I interrupt him, “ Athena Dumont, and you must be Katherine Pierce. I may not look like much but I could tear you from the inside out,” I say, flashing my amber wolf eyes. She only chuckles and walks away.
“You don’t have to be like my sister and hover over me, you know that, right?” Jeremy says and turns to me.
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to hover. I just wanted to meet who we’re killing tonight.” I say but Jeremy only looks at me with disbelief before walking away.
He just seems to abandon me so I decided to wander around some more while I wait for them to finish killing Katherine. I hear screams coming from behind a bush near where Bonnie and Jeremy were. I rush over only to find Elena leaning over in pain with blood all over her shirt but no rips.
“She has to be linked to Katherine, guys,” I say looking between them.
“We have to stop them, Jeremy get them to stop! Now!” Bonnie says frustratingly. I chase after Jeremy after he starts running towards the house.
We get to the room where they have her, “Stop! You’re hurting Elena! Everything you’re doing is hurting Elena!” Jeremy says out of breath.
“They’re linked,” I contribute out of breath.
“You think you two are the only ones with a witch on your side? Wrong and something tells me that my witch is better than your witch.” Katherine says menacingly as we all exchange looks.
“Jeremy, go check on Elena. Make sure she’s okay. Go!” Stefan says as Jeremy leaves the hall.
“Let’s all make sure poor Elena is okay. And your little wolf friend, here, is nothing against me, I’ve got 500 years on her. Just a little bit more pressure.” Katherine says cutting her hand with the stake. Stefan quickly hits it away from her.
“I’m right here you know,” I say waving my fingers, as Katherine gives me a fake smile and vamp speeds to pick up the stake, “This is really gonna hurt.” She starts to plunge the stake towards her stomach.
“Wait!” Damon yells and Katherine sits on the couch playing with the stake. “We’ve got this, Athena, just go check on everyone,” Damon says looking concerningly at me, but I don’t budge. Stefan just gives me a nod, telling me it’s fine, and I start to walk away.
“Okay. So, how about that moonstone?” I hear Katherine’s voice slowly get quieter as I continue downstairs.
I bump into Matt, who looks like he’s on a mission, “Sorry,” I quickly reply.
“You good?” He asks me slightly slurring his words.
“Yeh could use a drink, to be honest. Too many people talking to me and asking about my family.” I lie to him.
“Lucky for you I’m on my way to drink some more, wanna join?” He asks giving me a charming smile.
“Why not,” I reply and follow him as he leads me back to the office we were in earlier. I come in to see the girl Sarah and Tyler waiting.
“I hope you guys don’t mind Athena joining us,” Matt says picking up a glass and the bottle of alcohol and pouring me some.
“The more the merrier. So, what happened to Aimee, anyways?” Sarah asks after getting her glass poured.
“She’s probably drunk somewhere” Tyler responds.
“Like me,” Matt says and starts to pour the alcohol on the floor.
“Woah, don’t do that,” Tyler says with a slight tinge of irritation.
“What man? It’s a party.” Matt says and picks up the photo of Tyler and his family from the desk, “Right dad? You know, looks like your dad wants a drink” He says and pours the alcohol on top of the photo.
“Hey, that’s not cool. What’s wrong with you?” Tyler asks more hostile than before. I can sense that Tyler’s dad seems to be out of the picture and that this is just gonna get worse.
“Come on, the guy was a dick,” Matt says smiling and not having a care in the world.
“Come on, you’re being mean. His dad’s dead,” Sarah says quietly from the couch.
“Give me the picture!” Tyler says. He tries to snatch it out of Matts’s hand but he quickly pulls away, spraying alcohol from the movement.
“Matt, that’s enough. Just put the photo down and let it go,” I say from behind him and seeing where this could head. Tyler activating his curse. But Matt doesn’t wavier from my words.
“Remember how your dad used to slap you around?” Matt says and brings his hand up to slap Tyler on the left side of his face.
“Matt!” I say louder from the other side of the desk, but neither of them acknowledges me.
“Are you kidding?” Tyler says getting even more annoyed.
“Just having fun” He responds with an even bigger smile.
“Put the picture down, man,” Tyler says trying to keep his cool. I try to slip my hand near the photo to grab it, but Matt slams it onto the desk sending shards of glass flying in all directions.
I run over to Tyler’s side and put myself between them, “Okay, you need to calm down right now!” I say to his face before he pushes me into the side of the desk and then pushed Tyler who is right behind me.
“I’m not gonna fight you,” Tyler says attempting to keep his cool.
I help Sarah up and gesture for her to move away from them. Matt wrestles Tyler to the floor, Tyler tries to push Matt off but gives an opening to allow Matt to punch him in the face a few times. I try to intervene by pulling Matt off but he just elbows me in my face, leading to me knocking my head on the corner of the desk, and passing out.
I wake up to see Caroline standing in between them, with a confused look on her face, “I have to finish!” Matt says and it clicks, he’s compelled to make Tyler trigger his curse. I scoot out from under them and punch Matt in the face, knocking him out. Caroline walks over to Matt to check to see if he’s okay. Tyler looks over to me confused and I just sigh as I catch my breath.
“How did you…?” Tyler says looking at Caroline and me before being cut off.
“Matt failed. If Matt fails, I can’t” We hear Sarah say from behind us.
“Tyler, look out!” I say trying to push him out of the way. But Sarah was able to stab the knife into his shoulder, which led him to push Sarah and hit her head on the corner of the desk. I rush over to check on her and Tyler does as well.
“No, no, no! Come on, wake up! Sarah, open your eyes, wake up! This can't happen, oh no, this can't happen. This can't be happening! Sarah! Sarah, get up! Sarah! Open your eyes! This can't be happening! Not like this!” Tyler says frustratingly.
Caroline comes over and I check Sarah’s pulse, but I don’t find one. I look up to see Tyler gripping his head and grunting in pain. I slowly get up and so does Caroline, “Get away!” Tyler struggles to get out.
“What’s happening?!” Caroline questions. I just keep her back because I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Tyler looks up at us and his eyes turn amber.
After the pain from the activation was over I rushed over to Tyler, “Are you ok?” I ask crouching at his level and start to help him up.
“So what are we gonna do? I mean we have to tell someone, we can’t just leave her here.” Caroline sputters.
“Is there anyone we can tell? Are you guys good at telling lies?” I ask looking between them.
“We could just say that she was drunk dancing and tripped and then just wasn’t like alive anymore,” Tyler suggests questingly.
“That’ll work, I’ll go get Mayor Lockwood,” Caroline says and walks out of the room.
Caroline and Carol Lockwood enter back into the office. She explains what happened as I walk out to Tyler who’s waiting for the sheriff in the entryway.
“Here, are you good?” He asks handing me a towel. I’m guessing for my forehead.
“Thanks, I’m fine. It’ll heal.” I respond.
“Mom, the sheriffs here,” Tyler says as we walk back into the office.
“I’ll go prepare her, just don’t leave. Just stay here okay? She’s going to want to hear the story from you.” Carol says looking right at Caroline before she walks out to talk to the sheriff, who I learned is Caroline’s mom.
Tyler walks over to look at Sarah’s body once again, “Matt’s in the car, sleeping it off. I’ll deal with him. I don’t want him involved in any of this.” Caroline says with a hint of sadness in her voice.
“What are you doing?” Tyler asks walking right up to Caroline’s face.
“Why? I did this. I killed her.” Tyler states.
“You didn’t mean to Tyl--” I start walking up to them.
“But she’s dead. You guys don’t know what that means.” Tyler scoffs.
“Actually, Tyler, I think we do,” Caroline says quieter.
“No, you guys don’t,” Tyler says thinking that we don’t know about the curse.
“Has your wound healed?” I ask gesturing to his shoulder. Tyler unbuttons his shirt and feels where the knife was stabbed into him and makes a questioningly look at us.
“How did you guys…?” He questions. I pull my hair back a bit to reveal where my head was hit, showing him that my wound is gone. The sheriff and Mayor Lockwood walk back in and Caroline explains the fake story again.
Everyone had left the party except a few of us and they took care of Sarah’s body. “ Do you have a ride home?” Mayor Lockwood asks walking up to me.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to stay over at Elena’s, Mrs. Lockwood,” I respond knowing that Damon and Stefan had abandoned me here as I saw them walk out before I could catch them.
“Please call me Carol. Ok, be safe.” She says.
“Thank you, Mrs.--, Carol,” I say and give her a small smile.
“You’re welcome,” She says and walks away.
Tyler walks up to me to waits until Elena is ready to go. “So, are you uh, werewolf?” Tyler asks me.
“Yeah,” I respond as he opens the door.
“How long?” He asks.
“About two years now,” I tell him. He gives me a slight nod before Elena walks up.
Elena and I head to her house, get ready to go to bed and are about to fall asleep, but I get interrupted by a phone call. “Damon Salvatore” lights up on the screen, but I ignore it. He calls two more times, I decide to pick up the third call.
“Ugh, I think I have to take this,” I say looking over at Elena and getting up to go into the bathroom.
“Yes” I answer annoyed.
“I’m sorry I left you. We had to deal with Katherine. I can come to get you now, wherever you are.” He said and actually sounded like he felt bad.
“I’m fine, I’m staying at Elena’s tonight. No need to worry. Now I’m going to sleep” I say annoyed and hang up.
“What was that about?” Elena asks as I emerge from the bathroom.
“Just Damon trying to be my protective, not boyfriend,” I say and roll my eyes.
“So you guys were a thing?” She asks me.
“If you count being his personal blood bag two years, that he seems to really care about, a thing. Then yes.” I chuckle.
“I am going to have to hear more about this, but we’ll save it. It’s been a long night. Good night.” She says.
“Night,” I say and pass out faster than I have in a long time.
A/N: Here is the second chapter of the story, based on 02x07 "Masquerade". Sorry that it took a month for this part! I got engulfed in school and then with everything going on. My classes ended up being moved online so, I came back home, and I’m also in the process of moving houses. Please let me know what you guys think, any feedback is greatly appreciated. I hoped you enjoyed and Thank you for reading! Stay safe and healthy everyone!
#the vampire diaries#the originals#the vampire diaries imagine#the originals imagine#Legacies#legacies imagine#bonnie bennett#caroline forbes#matt donovan#elena gilbert#Jeremy Gilbert#tyler lockwood#Stefan Salvatore#damon salvatore#elijah mikaelson#niklaus mikaelson#katherine pierce#mystic falls
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Hi !! New here, could you please do a scenario with izuku or shoto with 27, 28, and 41 ?? Please and thank you so much
ohgodohgodohgod i feel like i fucked up but i had s o much fun writing this !!!!! i went with Shouto since i feel like i have way too little content about him on the blog, so i hope you like this my dude!
an: this is a fantasy!au with vampirism that isn’t actually vampirism... i’m not entirely sure where the idea came from lol
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He asked you to look at him, but youcouldn’t do it.
You weren’t sure if it was truly his voicecalling, but you wanted to look at him, if anything so your eyes could tell himeverything you hadn’t been able to.
Everything hurt, everything was spinning aroundyou and there was a faint whisper in your mind that told you time and timeagain to be careful, but you wouldn’t pay any attention to it over the painthat numbed your senses until you blacked out.
And just like that the pain was gone in aninstant, yet it took you two full days to recover.
Unfamiliar yet pleasant surroundings werethe first things you noticed when you woke up in a bed that wasn’t your ownthat afternoon, the warmth of the sun entering through the window and hittingyour skin, feeling like nothing but a distant caress – the bed sheets wrappedaround you like a cocoon and made you feel welcomed while you took in the roomyou were currently in. The beige that decorated everything was nice and calmingand there was a slight scent of cinnamon that covered the place, and it allfelt just… right, somehow.
That should’ve been the first warning butyou didn’t even think about it until you heard something – the sound of deadleaves being stomped on and laughter, and you looked around to see if there wasanything on like a radio or a TV, but there were no electronics around thatcould’ve let out that kind of noise. Gulping as you sat up on the bed, you madesure there was nothing else that could’ve made any sound before you carefullyuncovered your lower body and were partly shocked to see your legs slightlybruised.
You wondered what had truly happened; yourmemories were hazy and everything felt like a blur that stained most of yourmind, but when you got up you couldn’t help but think that something was off. Walking to the window on thefarthest wall of the room was an experience to say the least since your legsfelt like giving in at any point, but when you reached it you almost gasped outloud – there were three kids playing with dried leaves on their backyard abouttwo houses away, but for some reason you could hear them very clearly andalmost like they were right in that room with you and it frightened you beyondbelief. “What the fuck?” you asked loudly, just as the door behind you opened gently,the soft creak reaching your ears and making you turn around with confusionwritten all over your face.
Ah, there he was.
Soft eyes looked at you hidden behind astrand of dual-coloured hair and a small smile decorated his round face, makinghim appear even tinier than he already seemed and making your heart beat a bitfaster and your lips curl into a smile of their own. There were a few bruises onhis cheeks and neck but nothing you needed to be afraid of you thought, sinceif they had been dangerous to him you knew the first thing he would’ve done wasto cover them up. “I see you’re finally up,” Shouto muttered in a volume thatunder another circumstances would’ve required you to ask him to repeat himself.“I didn’t expect that to be so quick,” he added as you took in his appearance.
Pale skin slightly flushed, it seemed likehe had just come out of the shower given the fact that all that covered hisbody was a grey robe, his chest visible just enough to make you feel flusteredand light-headed as well – you had always loved how he looked so casual yetamazing, but the way he closed himself off from the world sometimes made youfeel like you weren’t his partner but rather an outsider, someone who had justno idea how to help with his issues. “Shou,” you whispered using the nicknameyou had given him back in high school, “what is going on? Where are we?” Hisright hand went to his nape and he scratched it as he seemed to think of whatto reply to that, but you were not in a position where you could be patient andyour smile soon faded away. “Shouto, the last things I fucking remember arebeing attacked on the streets and your voice calling out to me, and then I wakeup in a strange room being able to hear things that are a fucking mile away,”you started, growing more and more frustrated with each word. “What in hellhappened to me?”
“Look, I know you’re confused,” he tried toexplain, his heterochromatic eyes locked on yours yet you couldn’t make outwhat was going on behind them, “and you have every right to be, but just let mebe clear on one thing – if I hadn’t done what I did you would not be here right now and I… couldn’thave handled that.”
“What?” you were truly puzzled at his wordsand even if you tried to make some sense out of them you knew you’d fail. “Whatare you even talking about?”
Shouto took a deep breath and slowlywhispered, “I had to turn you.”
You were far too puzzled to even react –there was nothing in your mind that made you understand what he was saying but somehowit felt correct, and you absentmindedly clenched your fists to the sides ofyour body. The only times you’d ever heard that kind of sentence was in sci-fior even horror movies, but that meant something that could not be possible inreal life… was it? “Excuse me? What do you mean you had to turn me? What are we now, in a goddamn movie?”
“You were hit by a car a few days back,” hestarted to explain, making your head hurt with each memory he recalled. “We hada date, remember? At that new restaurant you wanted to try; we were on our wayback and we were arguing over some stupid shit I can’t even remember right nowwhen you tried to get away from me and cross to the other side of the street,and I couldn’t do anything… I felt helpless. I felt like a coward, and thereare many things you still don’t know about me but I couldn’t tell you before.I’ll take the chance if I have to.”
In just a moment you were in front of him,hand on his throat and anger invading you; how you had been so fast youcouldn’t understand. You loved him but if what he was saying were true, thenthere was no reason to believe you were the same as just last week. “What haveyou done to me?” you were sure you were fuming but not about how he saw youthen, or if he was the same as you.
“Check yourself out on the mirror,” hesaid, pointing faintly at a door on the other side of the room, where he hadcome out of; “Don’t be afraid ofwhat looks back at you.” You were cautious when you turned back to him and youdropped your hand to the side, walking backwards until establishing a nicedistance from him and then turning once more to the door in question.
When you opened it the most luxuriousbathroom you had ever been in welcomed you, and you noticed the small traces ofsteam that lingered in the closed room and the familiar scent of Shouto’scologne that you hadn’t realized he was wearing. It almost made you smile againuntil you remembered what you were there for – warily walking to the sink, youkept your gaze on the floor until you reached it and then gathered all yourcourage to look up, but you were so reluctant to know that you closed your eyesright before you could see your reflection. Whateverhappens, you told yourself, it’ll allbe fine.
And so you opened your eyes.
At first it seemed like nothing wasdifferent until you noticed: there was a half-moon shaped scar fading on thebase of your neck, white as could be, and your eyes looked like they had nevergleamed more. If you looked closely you could see a slight tint of red mixingwith your own eye colour, and you wanted to laugh at what seemed to be the mostridiculous, improbable yet certain thing that was now happening to you. It allseemed to fit like a puzzle and you gripped the ceramic sink tightly only tofeel it being crushed down under your touch, your strength multiplied but you weren’tsure how much. You were shaking as you walked back, looking at your hands likethey were something foreign to your body, and the way your skin paled incomparison to the colour you remembered it was scared you beyond belief.
Your back hit something sturdy and for amoment you thought it had been the wall but when two arms wrapped around yourform and making you cross your own you took a deep breath, trying your best tokeep the tears concealed. “How did you do it?” you asked sadly, and you felthim sighing against your hair as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head.“What exactly am I now?”
“I have been like this for at least twoyears now,” he explained, his hands caressing your forearms with such delicacyyou were sure you’d break any moment. “Someone with some kind of vampirismQuirk helped me when I had that big fight a few years back, remember?” Howcould you not? Shouto had been the centre of every news outlet back when he hadhis biggest confrontation with one of the worst villains in all of Japan twoyears ago – he had been so badly hurt he had to stay in the hospital for onewhole month, and when the doctors told you there would be no visits allowed youwere certain he was on the verge of life and death. But one day he came back toyou in one piece, and you should’ve noted by then that there was somethingwrong with the way he had healed so quickly, but you were so ecstatic to havehim back that you couldn’t even think about it. “It was one of the doctors;faces before waking up again are still blurry to me though. I would’ve died ifit wasn’t for that.” You couldn’t look at him directly and you could tell hewas extremely sorry for doing what he did, but you needed to know, you needed tomake sure what would happen next.
“Is it like what the movies show?”
“Not at all,” he explained as he pulledaway and then grabbed your hand, leading you back to the bedroom and sitting onthe bed, waiting for you to do the same. His hand never left yours. “The doctorexplained that there would be no actual signs of me wanting to drink anyone’sblood, so I’m not sure how feeding works that way – I’m still feeling like aregular human, just with heightened senses and slowed aging. Healing is alsoquicker than in most people, but that’s pretty much all I know. I’ve beentrying to gather more information but it’s hard to find people who have it andare willing to talk about it.” You wanted to ask if he had tried talking to theperson who ‘turned’ him but when you opened your mouth to say something hepulled you in for a hug, one that felt way too soft. “Don’t hate me for doingwhat I did, please. I couldn’t afford to lose you – I care about you so much, you’re the reason why I’ve been able tokeep going all these years. I love you and want to protect you for as long as I’maround.”
Wrapping your arms around his waist, youmuttered, “I love you too Shou,” and little by little his presence becamebigger than the fear that still plagued your mind, yet you were determined tohelp him do the research in case therewas a way to turn things around if you ever felt like it. “You’ll have to helpme get used to this then,” you said and followed it with a little laugh, whichhe mimicked. “I’m still not sure about this whole deal, it’s… too sudden.”
“I know, but I’ll be here to help you,” hereplied and then laid down on the bed, pulling you with him. Under the mellowafternoon sunlight that brightened the room he seemed almost ethereal, and itmade you gulp a bit as your chest felt filled with butterflies. His handreached up to your face and cupped your cheek, and as you leaned against histouch he gave you a half smile with a sultry gaze. “You look absolutelygorgeous like this,” he added and you hit his chest with what you thought hadbeen moderate strength, but when he coughed a little you hesitated a bit untilhe started laughing out loud. “Now that’s my fucking baby!”
“Oh, shut up and kiss me you absolute fool,” you said as you closed the distancebetween you with a gentle peck on the lips, soon to evolve into something more.
#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha scenarios#bnha imagines#boku no hero scenarios#boku no hero imagines#mha#my hero academia#mha scenarios#mha imagines#my hero academia scenarios#my hero academia imagines#shouto todoroki#todoroki shoto#todoroki shouto#mine#Anonymous
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Pairing: MadaraTobirama + HashiramaMito
Word count: 1166
Summary: Everyone in the world has two soulmates, platonic and romantic. Only your platonic soulmate can find your romantic soulmate for you. Hashirama should have known who Madara was the moment they met. Tobirama did know who Mito was as soon as they met. Everything would be so much easier if they were able to just say something about it to each other but since when does the universe like making things easy?
Follow the link or read it under the cut!
KO-FI link in the blog header!
Chapter 8: Of Pettiness and Perfection
“So.” Tobirama switched his beer to the opposite hand so he could tuck himself more firmly against Madara’s side. “Where is your platonic soulmate, Mito?”
The woman in question looked away from where she had been gazing across the backyard with an utterly soppy look on her face. It was actually kind of disgusting how someone with so much poise could dissolve in to an absolute puddle whenever left to think about Hashirama for more a minute at a time. She lifted one eyebrow in such a manner that Tobirama could practically smell the revenge brewing inside her imagination.
“My good friend Kurenai. She and I have had words since my discovery and it turns out she knew exactly who my romantic soulmate was and never once tried to get us together. As I understand it, she met Hashirama when her husband was in the hospital, got to know him, and made the decision on her own that I would never see anything worthwhile in this man.” Mito’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I have made my opinions on that decision quite clear to her already.”
“Do tell how you managed that?” Madara peered curiously over the top of Tobirama’s pale spikes.
“I told her that Hashirama was very interested in studying the raccoon who made a nest under her porch. All she had to do was chase him out for us.”
Mito sipped delicately at her beer while Madara winced and Tobirama gave a low whistle, proud of his sister-in-law’s vicious retribution. “Bodily harm,” he muttered. “I would approve but Madara would give me the stink eye for it.” As soon as he said it he squirmed as Madara pinched his side in warning.
“Yes, you seem to have gone down the route of psychological torture instead,” she noted. Madara straightened in his seat, making Tobirama grumble. He’d only just gotten comfortable.
“Say what now? What did you do?” He wasn’t half as scary as he thought he was with that narrow-eyed glare but he did have one thing he could hang over Tobirama’s head to get his own way: sex. Tobirama was much more afraid of his sex life being disrupted than anything else his partner could threaten him with. He shrugged smoothly and cuddled in again, widening his eyes for an innocent look.
“All I did was send them to out to buy a flux capacitor to fix my car.”
Covering her mouth with one hand, Mito turned away to giggle. Madara looked back and forth between them with a great deal of suspicion, turning that over and over in his mind, trying to find what was so funny about that statement.
“There’s nothing wrong with your car,” he said finally.
“No, there isn’t.”
“What’s a flux capacitor?”
“There is no such thing as a flux capacitor.”
Madara scrunched up his entire face with confusion. “You sent them out to buy something that doesn’t exist?”
“Yes. And you know how stubbornly Anija believes in everything I tell him. If I say a flux capacitor exists he is going to ignore whatever the shopkeeper tells him and he is going to visit every single store from here to the other end of the city trying to find me one.” Sipping at his beer, Tobirama smirked. “Izuna probably figured it out by the second store.”
“And Hashirama will still drag him around to every store insisting that he’s right.” Madara was grinning now, slow deep chuckles rumbling up out of his chest until he was tilting his head back for outright laughter.
Still tucked under one of his arms, Tobirama glowed. He was stupidly proud of himself every time he managed to make his partner laugh like this. Surely the magic of it all would fade eventually but for now they had only been together a mere couple of weeks and he intended to enjoy this feeling while it was still new.
When she had gathered herself, Mito lowered her hand and reached out to pat him approvingly on the knee. Tobirama offered her a nod. He had, of course, considered several different methods of getting back at the two idiots and many of them had involved light maiming just as her method did. After much thought he’d decided to take the high road. Doing things her way would only bring him further misery in the form of Hashirama’s endless whining. The point of this was to express his displeasure once and for all so they could put the whole thing behind them, not to create more trouble for himself and create a vicious cycle of revenge.
“One question,” Madara said after he caught his breath again.
“Just the one?”
“Why are we being mean to Hashirama? He wasn’t the one who was being a little shit about things.” He looked down at the man cuddled against him with a frown. Tobirama shook his head.
“Because he should have known who you were the moment you two met but he was too stupid to recognize the alarms going off inside his own head. I was nice enough to bring Mito right to him. He wasted years that you and I could have already spent together.”
Madara turned that over and then huffed quietly. “I hope they’re gone all day, the idiots.”
“That is my idiot you are speaking off,” their companion broke in sharply.
“Sorry Mito,” they chorused. They weren’t sorry and she knew that very well but manners were important to her and they were willing to bow to that in order to keep their hair from being shaved while they slept. Poised and graceful she might be but above all things Mito was petty down to the bone.
Her approving expression fell away in favor of more laughter when Madara’s phone went off, playing the unique ringtone he had set for his younger sibling. All three of them snickered in unison and Madara pulled it out to check the screen. Instead of answering he pulled his notifications down and giggled harder as he turned it towards Tobirama, showing off the eight texts Izuna had sent him, each with increasing frustration that Hashirama would not believe him about flux capacitors not existing.
“Alright. Who needs another beer?” Madara tucked his phone away with a wide grin.
“You two stay there. Allow me,” Mito offered.
Tobirama gave her a grateful look. In return for the favor he waited until she had gone back in to the house before sitting up and turning, throwing a leg over to straddle Madara’s lap and draw him in to a warm, slow kiss. His partner groaned appreciatively and clung to his hips.
“Mm. Not that I’m complaining but what was that for?” Madara asked. Before answering Tobirama leaned forward to press their foreheads together, breathing deeply.
“I’m just…glad to have you.”
“Oh. Alright.” His soulmate smiled at him, too wide and full of teeth, the most precious smile that Tobirama would be happy to devote the rest of his life to.
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i absolutely cannot handle it, lay it on me
THIS IS NOT SAFE FOR EM’S BLOG, BEEP BEEP, CHECK THE TAG FOR THE TW (and get spoiler’d)
The sunflower’s starting to wilt.
Edd gnaws at his lip, fingers absently tapping a rhythm on the empty cola can in his hands. He’s in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, back bent and eyes glazed, and he’s spending a lot of time out here, staring out at the backyard.
Staring at the sunflower, golden and bright.
Staring at Tom’s hunched back, the curve of his spine. Staring at him as he sits there in the dirt, quiet and still, empty as the house.
The smell still lingers, somehow.
Edd sighs. Tom’s not out there today; so it’s empty and quiet, full of nothing but a singular sunflower and the ghosts chained up there, and Edd’s spent time out there, he has, but-
Not as much as he should have.
He sits the cola can aside; wipes his hands on his pants, and finds himself going outside, feet leading him right to that patch of scorched grass and dark dirt.
It’s cold outside. Colder here, by the sunflower, and Edd wraps his arms around himself, puts his weight on one foot, and doesn’t know what to say.
It’s been around a month.
A month of eating out, a month of Tom not speaking and barely eating. A month of this, a corpse in the backyard, a ghost waiting for its friends.
“We miss you,” Edd says, instead of anything else. “We- we really miss you.”
Please, he wants to say. Please just, go. Please just let us move on.
But ghosts aren’t real- there’s no Matt here, no whisper of someone they loved. It’s just them and their guilt, chained up in a sunflower and dead grass, and Edd’s tired.
Tom’s getting thin. Getting worse and worse, and he’s wasting away, and Edd’s scared. Terrified.
There’s no ghost out here, not really, but that’s what it feels like. Feels like there’s a ghost haunting them, singing siren-songs, and Edd can resist, he can, but Tom-
Edd covers his face, palms cola-sticky and rough, and there’s a world upon his shoulders, heavy with burdens he didn’t pick.
A deep breath; the sunflower sways in the wind, petals twisting and tilting, and one slips off, flutters away.
Edd watches it go, hand sliding off his face, and as it blows away from view, he gathers up his burdens, and goes back inside.
The yard’s empty. And that’s not changing anytime soon.
He closes the door behind him, resists the urge to sigh again, because that’s really all he does these days. Sigh, think, look out at the yard. It’s a loop, and he’s tired. He’s so, so, tired.
“Okay,” he murmurs, mostly just so he can hear something beside the silence. “Let’s check on Tom.”
It’s getting late, and they haven’t eaten today, so it’s probably a good idea to drag Tom out; get some pizza or some Chinese, get something, and- and maybe he’ll talk to Tom about seeing someone. About finally burying the ghost in the yard.
He snorts, half smiles at himself. Shakes his head, and makes his way to Tom’s room.
“Tom!”
The house is quiet, still. Too big for two people, and that’s a sudden thing; the attic is as cluttered as always, and Edd hasn’t dared step foot up there, hasn’t even wanted to look at the stairs.
“Tom! Come on, get out of bed- we’re going out,” he knocks on the door, kicks it gently with one foot. “Gotta get some food, okay?”
No answer. Not a surprise, really, and Edd rolls his eyes, leans his weight on the door and bangs a fist, because if he has to wake Tom up, then so be it.
“Tom!”
There’s a chill on his skin. A touch of cold.
“Tom! Come on, you haven’t been eating lately! And I get it, okay-” he lays his hand flat, palm to the wood. “I know it’s hard, but Matt wouldn’t have wanted you to just, waste away, okay?”
He presses his forehead to the door, closes his eyes. Remembers, vividly and suddenly, the feel of Matt’s hand in his, and he shivers.
“Tom-”
Burnt skin. The stench of cooked flesh. Matt’s breathing, raspy and harsh, and Edd snaps his eyes open, swallows bile.
“Tom!”
Fuck being polite- Edd twists the doorknob, pushes, and the door gives, surprisingly enough, and Edd stumbles into a den of darkness.
Edd staggers. Nearly trips, but manages to right himself just in time, and he straightens out his hoodie, goes to open his mouth to chew Tom out, and stops dead.
“-Tom?”
It’s weird, the way shadows work. The way half-light can cast them, can throw up reality so clear, and Edd can’t comprehend this, can’t- can’t understand.
His legs give out.
He hits the floor knee first, and there should be a jolt of pain, should be something- but there’s nothing, just an empty expand in his chest, a crevice cracking open, and Edd can’t feel fucking anything.
Sneakers centimetres off the ground. Shadow big and grotesque.
Edd feels palms on his mouth, feels them press in hard, and he doesn’t remember doing it, but there his hands are, over his mouth.
A shaky breath.
His spine breaks, and he’s bending over, curling up, and he’s sobbing in seconds, breaking apart like china, and this isn’t fair, this isn’t fucking fair.
There’s two ghosts in the yards, and they’re singing siren-songs, and Edd doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to resist them.
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MONSTA X AS WITCHES
All the details about witches are found on this blog. Please note that what I wrote in the story are my own interpretations of witchcraft and therefore has many inaccuracies. Nevertheless, I hope you still enjoy.
SHOWNU
Type of Witch:
Secular - Non-religious / Not connecting with deity(s)
Witchcraft:
Elemental - Magick that is worked by honoring/acknowledging the 4 or all 5 elements: Water, Earth, Air, Fire, and Spirit. Commonly an Elementalist will dedicate different areas of their altars to each element, call upon them during spells and rituals, and use symbols to represent each
Seasonal - Witches who utilize and draw energy from the specific times of year for their magic, sort of how a person might have a strong love or connection to a certain time of year! This can also be spread out into Winter, Autumn, Spring and Summer witches
Shownu stands in the middle of his backyard with four stones in hand. He places the stone between him and a snow-covered tree and arranges them in an arch. The first stone is a yellow stone engraved with the word fire and an above it, following it is a blue stone engraved with the word water and an inverted triangle above it, next is a dark blue stone engraved with the word earth and an inverted triangle that has another line inside above it,and last is a gray-white stone with the word air on it and the same triangle but not inverted, above it.
It's winter season, which means that the water element is the strongest. But he will try to make the other elements keep up with it; that's his goal for today.
He closes his eyes and breathes in and out deeply. He tries to feel the cold winter air and tries to neutralize it in his mind. He does this for a few seconds before slowly opening his eyes. He sees the stones slowly becoming their respective elements. The tree's leaves in front of him change colors between orange and green. He brings his arms forward and brings them closer to each other, the stones following his arm's motion and slowly combining with each other.
He hears something at the back of his mind but he dismisses it, not wanting to break his concentration. He hears it again, he wills himself to listen to it while concentrating on the task in front of him. The earth and air combine first.
Shownu
He recognizes the voice as Hoseok, his blood bond. A blood bond is something a witch do to have a stronger connection with other witches The blood bond allows the two witches to have a more stable magic stability when performing rituals that require one person. It is also something that witches who are close to each other do, a sign of trust and friendship.
Shownu
Hoseok calls again.
The combined earth and air attach itself with the water but not quite combining fully yet, the fire does the same.
What is it?
I'm at the fort. They're hunting witches. You need to come here now.
What?
I'll explain later.
Shownu heaves a sigh and stops the ritual unceremoniously. The stone elements drop and his whole backyard floods.
WONHO
Type of Witch:
Hellenic - A form of non-witchcraft practice in which the practitioner follows Greek ideals/culture and honors the Greek pantheon
Witchcraft:
Storm/Weather - Magick that is worked by combining one’s energy with the energy of the weather, and most commonly rain. Weather witches will do things like collect rain/snow water, absorb the energy of a lightning storm, “whistle up” or manipulate wind, predict the weather, etc.
Sea - A type of magick derived from materials and abstract ideas involving the ocean and oceanic world. Sea/Ocean magick can be worked using seashells and bones, sea weed, beach sand, driftwood, ocean water, etc. and a sea witch might draw their energy from that of the sea!
"Are we back in the middle ages now?" Shownu says as he arrives. "What is going on."
Wonho brisk walks to the boat he prepared, Shownu closely following behind.
"A word got out about a necromancer. Now the people are hunting this, some other witches too."
Necromancy has always been a taboo in the witch's world. No matter what type of witch one is, dealing with the dead is a dangerous thing. The witches only manage to the common people because they managed to convince them that their craft won't harm anyone.
They board the boat and Wonho dips his hand in the sea. He murmurs a chant under his breath and the water carries the boat away.
"Why are we running away? If that's what we're doing?" Shownu asks.
"Because it seems that we really are back in the middle ages. Hunt or be hunted. We both know that neither of us is willing to take part on that."
Shownu nods.
"Are you not going to ask where we're going?"
"Anywhere the sea takes us?"
Wonho smiles. It's an expression he'd always use when someone asks things like this. Shownu found it weird at first, "Isn't it 'anywhere the wind will take us'?" He used to say. Wonho still wasn't practicing the witchcraft of weather yet and he always replies, "But I'm a sea witch." But after years of being with Wonho and being blood bonded with him, Shownu got used to it.
"Anywhere the sea takes us," Wonho replies.
Shownu doesn't say anything after that and Wonho didn't add anymore so a comfortable silence surrounds them. The silence lasts for a few moments until the sound of a motor engine breaks it.
They looked at each other, a silent conversation taking place. If they suddenly speed away, it could cause suspicion. The best way is to go as they are and act normal.
The motorboat catches up to them as expected. Wonho notes that some of the passengers are bound by the hands, he assumes that they are captured witched. He makes eye contact with one of them, a boy about his age with black hair and plump lips. The boy breaks the eye contact and turns to who seems to be his friend who has white hair.
"Oi, what you two up to here huh?" The captain calls out to them.
"We were just fishing sir," Wonho answers.
"I see no caught fishes there,"
"Seems like the tides are not in our favor today. Please don't let us bother you, sir," Shownu backs up
The captain looks skeptically at them and calls someone over.
Wonho and Shownu share a look; they have to be prepared.
Wonho draws energy from the sea and transfers it to the sky. He chants inside it his, and one cloud begins to darken. The person that the captain that the captain calls over is a woman. The captain speaks to her briefly and she turns to look at them. Her eyes turn red Wonho recognizes her as a Draconian witch. A witch that works with the nature of dragon, the creature that has the most intelligent and can almost detect and feel anything, including magical energy.
Wonho propagates the energy as fast as he can to spread to the entire sky, he can feel the sea being alive too. The woman's eyes return to back to normal and she turns to the captain. Before the captain can do anything, Wonho releases the energy from the sky and a lighting stuck the motorboat followed by a full-blown storm. The sea dances with the violent wind above it and both of the boat capsize.
MINHYUK
Type of Witch:
Hereditary/Blood - Including oneself in the practice of witchcraft on the grounds of having been born into a family who also practices. Knowledge and practice may also be passed down through generations, and honor old ways of magic
Witchcraft:
Animal - (A variant of Green) Magick that is strongly tied to the animal kingdom, which includes a deep appreciation for all animals, and most often: usage of animal materials in spellwork. An animal witch will most likely be one who loves animals, a person who animals are immediately “drawn” to, and those who appreciate the natural world. Some animal witches might also use bones, wings, feathers, fur, skin, scales, (etc). from deceased animals in their magick, if they choose to do so.
Flora - Much like a Green or Garden witch, those who work majorily with floral materials and flowers in their practice and in their spellwork! Their grimoire may be heavily associated with flowers rather than herbs, and likewise, one might use flower properties in spell or craft work.
Minhyuk's magic rarely requires hand movements but being bound makes it hard for him to move, especially underwater. He tries to open his eyes but it was a useless effort.
Wonnie?
He calls his blood bond.
Min? Where are you? Are you okay?
I am. I'll try to call some dolphins to get us out of here. Hang in there.
I can handle myself but sure.
Minhyuk internally smiles, whatever happens to the two of them, they always manage to let this light friendly atmosphere between them.
He doesn't have any magic energy left because of the struggle to keep himself together underwater in the last few minutes. He gathers whatever amount of energy he can and tries to reach to the dolphins in the nearest vicinity.
He detects a response but judging from the distance, he won't have enough energy to stay conscious by the time they arrive. He's starting to feel his breath slowly running out and his consciousness slipping away.
He finally gives in and let himself breathe underwater, expecting water to enter his lungs and suffocate him. He found himself breathing easily, instead. He opens his eyes and sees a bubble of water surrounding him.
"Are you okay?" He hears from behind him.
He turns around and he came face to face with a man with small eyes and a small plump lips looking at him with concern.
"Uh, yeah. Are you the one doing this?" He points to the bubble.
"No. Wonho is," the man replies.
"Oh uhm, could you help me find my friend? I'm blood bonded with him but I can't reach him to through telekinesis anymore,"
The man nods and stays silent for a few moments, probably communicating to the aforementioned Wonho.
The dolphins came while he was doing so and Minhyuk motions them over. He snuggles them, happy to have some comfort.
"My friend is already looking for him. You're an animal witch?"
"And a floral. I'm Minhyuk."
"Shownu. So I have no idea how to navigate on the sea. Could your dolphins help somehow?"
Minhyuk turns to one of the dolphins and asks if they could help them. The dolphin squeaks and swims away.
"They're on their way to find them. Tell your friend to follow them. They'll lead them in an island,"
Shownu nods. The dolphin that remained with the two of them swims away and they follow not far behind
When they get to the island, Hyungwon and Wonho aren't there yet. Shownu makes a circular motion with his hand, producing a fire which he uses to cut Minhyuk's binds.
Minhyuk thanks him and he turns to the dolphins to also thank them. Minhyuk runs back to the shore to Shownu and creates a circular shape with his hand. A circular arrangement of poppies appears and he gives this to Shownu.
"Thank you for helping. I'm sure you're tired. You can use this as a pillow," Minhyuk offers.
Shownu smiles.
"You need it more. Your magical energy was already running out when I found you and you just used it again. You're the one that's tired. Besides, you said that you couldn't reach your friend so he must be pretty weak right now too. I should stay awake to talk with Wonho," Shownu says.
Shownu's tone was so tender and Minhyuk couldn't bear to say no. So he nods and lays on the sand, with the arrangement of poppies as his pillow, he falls asleep.
KIHYUN
Type of Witch:
Traditional - One who practices witchcraft by honoring and using old and ‘traditional’ ways of magick; this type of witch might be one to practice modern methods of magick, but they might also stick to traditional concepts or techniques
Witchcraft:
Spirit Working - A practice in which the person will perform spellwork in conjunction with or with the help of any manner of spirit. This includes Ouija, (sometimes) demon spirits, spiritual contact, etc.
Sigil - A witchcraft working majorly with sigils, and the intent that can be put into them to activate their power
Kihyun was ecstatic when he heard about the necromancer. He had been dedicating most of his life perfecting the ritual that could call the familiar of his ancestor. The familiar was a powerful familiar and now he was a powerful spirit. Kihyun had a hard time summoning it because of this. The summoning of the familiar is a feat that none of the members his clan had ever done since the time of his great mother. He'll be the first one to do in a long time if he manages to get to the necromancer.
He's inside a forest. He clears the ground of leaves then takes out his candle and lights it. He goes around and lets the wax drops so it forms a circle. He goes inside the circle and makes two small circles in the center. He blows out the candle and stands between the two small circles.
"Veni foras! Spiritus Patris ordinatores et stratores laguncularum"
The leaves swirl upward and disperse to reveal three figures in white.
"A member of the Tragaudo clan," one figure said.
"He is a young one," another said.
"How may we be of service young Tragaudo?" the last one asks.
"I'm looking for a witch who practices necromancy."
The three figures turn to look at each other, at least that's what Kihyun thinks since he can't really see their eyes.
"A practitioner of necromancy?" The second figure said
"We will be honored to find him for you," they said in unison.
The three of them suddenly disappeared but Kihyun didn't panic. He knows how spirits work and the Tragaudo clan has been an affiliate of spirits for a long time. Their sudden disappearance doesn't mean anything bad.
As he expected the spirits come back after a minute.
"The necromancer is in the south of this country," the first one said
"He is by the lake of the fairy," adds the other.
"In a place cursed by many," concludes the last.
"Thank you," he says to them.
The figures bow to him and they disappear.
Katarameni is where the necromancer is. The place was cursed because of the witches that were burned back in the time when the witches and the people were still at war. Nobody ever goes there anymore, not the witches because of their ancestor's horrible experience, nor the people because of the memory of their monstrous nature.
"This witch is smart," Kihyun remarks.
Kihyun takes out his candle again and draws another circle, a small one this time. He crouches down to draw three triangles inside of it. He blows out his candle and takes out his pen. He draws the same symbol in his palm and hovers it to the one he drew on the ground.
"Viator. Venit ad me."
A black bull appears in front of him. He bows to it and it bows back.
"Take me to Katarameni,"
The bull huffs, signaling its affirmation. Kihyun rides the bull and it disappears.
HYUNGWON
Type of Witch:
Celtic - Magickal practice that is based on the Celtic culture, including its’ mythology, deities, old ways, and (occasionally) language/symbols. May also describe those who only worship Celtic gods
Witchcraft:
Astronomy/Space - Those who practice magick and correlate their beliefs in conjunction with the planets and stars! These witches may focus their magic with the properties of each planet, regularly read a horoscope or study astrology, and have a love of the stars and the night.
Dream - Mindful and internal magickal practice mainly based on interpreting dreams and/or engaging in lucid dreaming. Those who intensify as this may “de-code” symbols and messages in the dream world similar to how one would use a divination technique.
There is somebody walking around a rundown town that has several burned down houses. He enters one house and looks around it. He spots something by the corner and goes to pick it up; it's an arm bone. He exits the house and goes somewhere. The scene fades and he is by a lake, he puts the hand bone and several other bones in a bag and dips it the lake. He suddenly turns around and somebody appears from behind the trees.
Hyungwon wakes up, disoriented. He gets up slowly and looks around him. He's in a beach. He sees Minhyuk and someone with a gray-blue hair playing around the waters.
"You're awake, how are you feeling?" He hears from beside him.
He sees a broad tan man which he recognizes from the boat the capsizes theirs.
"You're a powerful witch," he says.
The man looks at him in confusion.
"You manage to control the sea, the whole sea. And even stirred up a storm. That requires a lot of magical energy."
The man chuckles, "Oh, that wasn't me. It was Wonho," he points to the man with gray-blue hair. "I just stabilized the water after that. He's the one that brought you here too."
"I see."
He looks at the two by the shore and Minhyuk sees him, he waves a hand at him.
"Wonnie!"
Minhyuk starts running full speed towards him, almost tripping halfway. Minhyuk lunges himself at Hyungwon and they both fall back to the sand.
"I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU! I THOUGHT I WON'T HAVE SOMEONE TO MAKE FLOWER CROWNS TO ANYMORE!"
He starts peppering him with kisses and Hyungwon lightly pushes him away, aware of the eyes looking at them.
"Min."
Minhyuk sits up and Hyungwon follows.
"Well, I'm just glad you're okay now. Meet our new friends. Shownu," he points to the tan man and they nod at each other. "And Wonho," he points to the gray-blue hair man.
Hyungwon looks at him.
"I heard from Shownu that you brought me here. Thank you," he says to him.
Wonho smiles at him and they look at each other for a few moments.
"We were both young when I first saw you~" Minhyuk suddenly starts singing.
The two of them broke eye contact. Hyungwon hits Minhyuk lightly and Hyungwon thinks he sees Wonho blush.
"So what's our plan now? They're gonna be looking for us." Shownu asks.
"Let's go to Katarameni," Hyungwon says.
All eyes look at him.
"The necromancer's there. And somebody already found him,"
"How did you know?" Wonho asks.
"The universe showed me,"
Silence.
"Wonnie's an astronomy and a dream witch," Minhyuk supplies. "And sometimes the universe shows him some things through his dreams."
The two of them nods in understanding.
"But why should we go there?"
"Everybody's looking for the necromancer. Either to use him for something or kill him. Necromancy is a long forgotten witchcraft. For him to be able to master it means he's a very skillful witch and must be very powerful. It would be us against the world but at least we have power," Hyungwon explains.
"That's actually true," Shownu says. "But how do we get there?"
"It's three days by the sea and ten by land. But both options are too risky. We might get caught," Wonho looks at Shownu, "Can you make us fly?"
"I can't, we're too many,"
"Don't worry, we'll travel through space," Hyungwon says.
Hyungwon closes his eyes and looks at the sky. Minhyuk takes Wonho and Shownu's hand.
"We're gonna be stars," he says.
Before the two of them can say anything, stars begin falling and hits the four of them.
JOOHEON
Type of Witch:
Eclectic - An individual’s practice that has bits and pieces pulled from different magickal and/or spiritual practices, respectfully
Witchcraft:
“Poison Path” - Working with plants, herbs, other items that may be poisonous, deadly, cause hallucinogenic effects, or affect the mind or body in some way
Desert - Using and utilizing the desert environment. Lots of work with hardier plants such as Cacti or Tumbleweeds. Use of the moon, desert earth, fire, rare water (especially rainwater), wind, local plants and herbs, as well as animals/creatures of the desert such as snakes, spiders, scorpions, and so on.
Jooheon sits in the throne room beside his father, listening to a group of witches and locals ask the King for assistance in finding the necromancer.
"That witch can be very dangerous Your Highness. Necromancy deals with the dead. He may raise an army against us."
The King seems to think this over and Jooheon rolls his eyes.
"Then he already would've done so correct? He's just probably minding his own business, practicing what he likes. No need to persecute him," Jooheon says.
"With all due respect my prince, witchcraft isn't just about doing what you like. Some people have an ill intention for practicing this. Like that necromancer."
"How would you know this? From the looks of this, it seems like you're the one that has ill intentions," the witch's eyes widen and opens his mouth to speak but Jooheon speaks. "Father. This will cause a lot of damage. The assistance they're asking for is obviously your army. This can cause a lot of casualties."
The King looks at Jooheon and back at the locals.
"I will think this over," the King finally says.
"But Your Highness"
"You are dismissed."
No one in the group says anything more. The bow to the King and Jooheon and they begrudgingly exit the throne room.
Jooheon gets up from his throne to also exit the room but his father stops him.
"Jooheon."
He turns to his father.
"Both of you have a point. But those people have been practicing witchcraft for a long time and came from families of witches. You're new to witchcraft. They know more than you. The necromancer might be dangerous."
"You're right. But they don't know anything about ruling and leadership. If you want to rule a kingdom with corpses. Go ahead."
Jooheon doesn't let his father say anything after that. Immediately exiting the room and going straight to his room.
Jooheon opens his windows and looks down to see the group of locals and witches leave the palace gates. He gets a crystal from his altar and places it on his window pane.
"What does the wind hear?"
A strong wind enters his room, making the crystal fall inside. He picks it up and takes it to his window again. He lifts it up to make it reflect the sun. He sees some images: witches having a talking amongst themselves, another group of witch performing a ritual, and someone singing to his father.
"Oh no,"
He hears footsteps from outside and someone knocks at his door. He grabs what he can and puts it in a cloth. He opens the door to find his father and the one singing to him earlier.
"Jooheon. This beautiful woman has the most beautiful voice. I would like you to hear it too."
The woman smiles at him and he smiles back.
"I'm afraid I'll have to say no to your manipulation," Jooheon says.
He dashes out of his room, storming pass them. He hears his father says a command to this soldier to go after them. He takes a crystal and whispers a chant to it. He throws it to the guards and a sandstorm blows them away. He keeps running and a group of witch corners him. He takes another crystal and chants to it again. A smoke appears and the witches fall down one by one. He manages to get out of the palace and he keeps on running. He enters an abandoned building. He takes another crystal and places it on the ground.
"Who does the wind know?"
A strong wind blows again. He picks up the crystal and goes outside to make it reflect the sun.
He sees a shooting star headed south.
"An astronomy witch,"
He tries to think.
What's in the south?
His brain racks for an answer for a few moments until he finally got it.
"Katarameni."
He takes a bunch of crystals and musters all his energy.
"The wind will take me."
An extremely strong wind rushes past him. The wind comes back to him and engulfs him. The wind goes up, taking Jooheon with it. Jooheon tries to concentrate more, hoping that his energy will last until he reaches Katarameni.
CHANGKYUN
Type of Witch:
Solitary - Practicing by ones’ self; not included in a group
Witchcraft:
Sanguine - Meaning “blood” or “blood red color” in Latin, a type of magick that deals with blood or other life giving fluid; life blood can also be represented through things such as water, or nutrients. A term for those who work with blood and life-oriented magick!
Death/Necromancy - A practice that may combine Bone, Animal, Spirit work, occasionally also Blood. Using spirits to empower one self, hoarding bones, using graveyards, graves, the spirits of them, as well as the dirt (or even plants) that are found in them. May also honor the dead and/or gods who work with the dead.
Changkyun feels the wind getting stronger. He carefully gets his knife and lightly cuts his thumb. He dips his thumb in the river and lets his blood flow while he says a chant. The wind does not get calmer and he decides to perform the ritual later. The thought frustrates him because he would have to walk around the town again to find new bones. He keeps chanting until blood no longer flows from his thumb. He hears a rustle from behind him and he turns around. He makes careful hand movements to make the river move at his will.
"Who's there?"
A man about Changkyun's height appears from behind the trees. He is wearing a loose black shirt and pants. He has a fair skin contrast to Chankyun and an ebony black hair to compliment it.
The man smiles at him.
"Who are you?" Chankyun asks, not letting his guard down.
"My name's Yoo Kihyun. A member of the Tragaudo clan and I need your help."
This surprises Changkyun but he maintains his guard.
"What help?"
"I want to summon our clan's spirit familiar. But my skill as a spirit working isn't enough to summon such powerful spirit. I would need a necromancer to do it."
Chankyun narrows his eyes in suspicion, Kihyun seems to be telling the truth.
He is about to answer when the wind got stronger. He lifts his hands and the river follows. He sees Kihyun takes out a pen in his bag and scribbles something in his palm. A smoking armored figured appeared behind Kihyun.
The wind stops and both of them gets ready to attack. A whirlwind is coming towards them Changkyun puts his arms forward the river's water go for the whirlwind. The water surrounds the water and drags it to the river. The whirlwind stops, revealing a person. The person lands on the lake and Changkyun quickly goes to him.
When he is close enough, he recognizes the person. Kihyun's gasp from behind him indicates that he does too.
"Prince Jooheon?" Kihyun says.
Jooheon gets up, face contorting to irritation.
"I'm very sorry, my prince," Changkyun says. He wanted to at least lessen his punishment by apologizing now that he's been caught.
"It's okay. I know you know you're being hunted," Changkyun eyes widen. "Listen. The whole country is after you. Some witch literally bewitched my father and now his probably preparing like he prepares for war."
If Chankyun's eyes can get any wider, they probably would.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm here to help? I don't know, I just came here on impulse. I didn't want them coming after you."
"A prince indeed," Kihyun comments. "Does they know he's here?"
Changkyun looks at Kihyun then back at Jooheon.
"Probably not. Before I left, a coven and some locals asked for my father's army. They were probably going to search every nook and crook of this country. Who are you by the way? Why are you with the necromancer?" He asks Kihyun.
"I'm no one. I came to him to ask help, turns out he's the one who needs it. Funny how the universe work," Kihyun says. "But I still want your help. But not now, which brings us to the question, what are you going to do now?"
Changkyun looks back and forth at the two of them and thinks. He knew that he couldn't stay here for long but he hoped that he could just until he could finish the ritual. He didn't expect to be leaving the place so soon. What's more is that he has a witch that needs his help and a prince kind enough to warn him, both apparently willing to help them. He has never been in this kind of situation before so he didn't know what to do.
Something suddenly explodes from above them. He looks up and sees glitters falling. Among the glitters are four figures dangerously plummeting down. When they are nearing the ground, however, the fall swiftly like a feather. When they land, one of them, a tall thin man, collapses. A man with gray-blue hair quickly goes over to him to watch him.
Now he got four more witches whom he doesn't know the intentions of.
"Is he okay?" Kihyun asks.
"Yeah. He just used up too many energy to get us here," a white-haired, answers.
"Who are you, people?" Changkyun asks.
"Hello, great necromancer whom the whole country is after, greetings to you Prince Jooheon, what are you doing here? And good afternoon to you concern man."
"What?" Kihyun inserts.
"We are here to join the party of the people who will rule the world once this chase is over," the white-haired man concludes his introduction.
"What he means is," a broad tan man says, "we are here to side with the necromancer."
Changkyun is just beyond confused this point. Years ago, he was banished by his coven for attempting to study necromancy. A week ago, the whole country wants to hunt him down. He had been alone for a long time. But now, six people are willing to help him. He didn't know what to do or feel.
"Min," the tall man who collapsed whispers, eyes still closed
The white-haired man rushes to him.
"What is it?"
"They're coming."
They hear horses coming from a distance.
"Search the place!" A female voice commands.
"We need to get out of here. Now," Jooheon says.
"The place is surrounded and none of us is capable of fast traveling now. Where would we go?" The gray-blue haired man says.
"Hold on to me," Changkyun says. "We're going to the underworld."
#monsta x#monsta x imagines#monsta x au#monsta x scenarios#monsta x imagine#shownu#son hyunwoo#wonho#shin hoseok#minhyuk#lee minhyuk#kihyun#yoo kihyun#hyungwon#chae hyungwon#jooheon#lee jooheon#i.m#lim changkyun#im changkyun
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Ten Years In Waiting Epilogue Part Two
AN: Well guys, it’s been a wild ride, but it has come to an end. This is the last installment of Ten Years In Waiting. It has been one of my favorite things to write since I started this blog, and I’m pleased with how everything turned out. I want to thank @dean-the-smol-bean for reading over parts and giving me feedback as I wrote the last two parts. You have been a gift! Thank you to all of you that reblogged, and liked this story. It means the whole world. If you have not had a chance to read the previous parts, I will link them below. Love you all, as always.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Epilogue Part 1
You took a nervous breath, pinning the last piece of your curled hair in place. You looked at yourself in the mirror, checking for any imperfections in your makeup and hair before inspecting your dress. Normally you would not have even tried it on, but your sister and Emily had begged and begged when you were shopping. The second you had zipped it up you knew that you wanted to walk down the aisle in this dress. It contoured perfectly to your body, falling gracefully onto the floor, its train whisping behind you. The integrate lace sleeves started a bit off your shoulder, its pattern decorating your arms, with the neckline showing just the right amount of skin. You brought your hand up, touching the single strand of pearls around your neck and smiled softly. They had been your mother’s, a gift from your father on their wedding day. She had always promised that you would wear them on your big day, and when your sister showed up last week and presented them, you had been speechless. You blinked in an attempt to prevent your tears from ruining your mascara.
“You look beautiful.” You turned to find Sam standing in the doorway holding David in his arms. You laughed as David pulled on his little bow tie, obviously growing frustrated with the fancy clothes the grown ups were forcing him to wear.
“Thank you, Sam.” He bent over and set the toddler on the floor, allowing him to stretch his legs for a bit. He made his way across the room to wrap you in a tight hug. Over the last few years you and Sam had formed a bond of your own, one of friendship and trust, often at Dean’s expense. Honestly you thought of him as your own brother, which was fitting seeing as you were about to be in-laws. He released you, before reaching over and removing the bouquet out of David’s hands, much to the little one’s dismay.
“You might need these” he joked, handing them to you. You shook your head.
“Yeah, maybe.. So how’s Dean doing?” you asked, already guessing his answer.
“Oh he is doing great!” you raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “Okay, He’s a bit nervous…. There’s a lot of sweat across the hall.” You sighed. You had prepared yourself for Dean’s nerves, after all… it was Dean you were talking about. Sensing your mood, Sam placed a hand on your arm. “It’s a good nervous. He loves you (Y/N).” You smiled.
“I know.”
“I’ve never seen him more happy in my entire life. Thank you for that.” He said, seriously. Just then your sister poked her head in the door, before sending Emily in.
“They are ready to start!” You beamed, looking at your daughter.
“You look so beautiful, baby.” You said, hugging her tightly.
“Mom…” she whined, her teenage embarrassment shining through, although a small smile did spread on her lips.
“Okay! Let’s get this show on the road.” Your sister urged, picking up her own bouquet and ushering Emily and David out to their places. You took hold of Sam’s arm, taking a deep breath and followed them downstairs. Sam’s girlfriend Eileen was waiting for you at the bottom, giving you a friendly smile. Sam bent slightly to give her a peck on the lips before pulling back and signing to her. Even though you were learning to sign, you didn’t catch everything, but whatever Sam said caused a blush to rise across her cheeks. She smacked him on the arm playfully before getting in position behind your sister. The backyard of your home had been decorated for the event, simple white chairs helping to form the aisle from the backdoor to the small arch that was constructed for the ceremony. It was just before dusk, the sky just beginning to show shades of purple and pink. The backyard was lit by twinkling lights along the chairs and weaved into the flowers around the altar, casting a fairytale like glow over the evening.
Dean stood with next to Garth, who you had meet a few weeks earlier and who had insisted on officiating. You watched as Dean chuckled at your children making their way forward to the music, David not quite cooperating. The toddler sat down in the middle of the aisle, causing Emily to become red in the face. Eventually, after several moments of chasing down her brother she sighed and picked him, and the pillow containing the rings, up and carrying them the rest of the way. Your sister followed next, helping Emily when she reached the end by taking hold of a struggling David, then Eileen who was quickly becoming an important part of your little family.
“Ready?” Sam asked, looking down at you.
“More than ready.” You replied, unable to take your eyes off of the man waiting for you. When the music changed, you placed one foot in front of the other, trusting Sam to lead you and set the pace. You could feel him restraining you a bit, sensing your eagerness. You were thankful for it, because if he hadn’t been there you would have been at a dead sprint, falling over your dress and face planting in front of everyone. When you finally, what felt like a lifetime, arrived Sam kissed you on the check, untangling your arm from his and putting your hand in Dean’s. Dean gave him a brotherly nod before he took his place by Castiel. You turned and handed your flowers to Emily who was smiling behind you.
“You look beautiful.” He breathed, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled.
“You don’t look half-bad yourself, Winchester.” He laughed, pulling back and taking in the sight of you. The two of you walked a few steps to a small table that was placed to the side and picked up the tall candle in the center. One by one you lit a candle for each of your parents, along with an extra one for Bobby, in remembrance and as a silent ‘thank you’ to the people who were responsible for making you who you were. Returning your places, Garth nodded before beginning.
“Now, Dean-o here has told me to ‘not blabber’ and to ‘get to the good stuff’ “ he stated, using air quotes “which I can only assume means he wants to go straight to the vows. BUT I want to say something first, if you don’t mind?” Dean rolled his eyes at Garth, but nodded. You knew Dean better than most people and you knew that it was all an act to appear tough. He loved his friend, which is why he had allowed him to do this in the first place. “ Now, I only met (Y/N) and the kids a couple of weeks ago… Big Guy over here keeping em’ all to himself.” he joked, nudging Dean and causing the small crowd of friends and family to laugh. Dean shook his head but smiled at you, the small crinkles around his eyes showing. “But I see the way that Dean looks at her.. Just like I look at my sweet, Bess.” He winked at his wife who was sitting a few rows back, who blushed and covered her face. “I’m just glad that he finally found somebody who turned him into a big ole’ softie… It’s about time.” Again, another round of laughter at Dean’s expense passed through the backyard.
“Alright, alright…” Dean mumbled, shifting anxiously on his feet.
“All I’m saying is that I’m happy for you, man.” he replied, hands raised in surrender. “Now, you two have written your own vows. (Y/N), would you like to go first?” You nodded and took a deep breath in an attempt to control your emotions.
“Dean, the night that we met you were my knight in shining armor, but I would be lying if I said it was love at first sight. You were this big tough guy, who never let his guard down, but I can remember the exact moment that I realized I wanted to be with you.. It was our fourth date, I called and canceled because I was sick. An hour later you showed up at my sister’s house with chicken noodle soup and The Three Stooges on DVD. Even though we started out rough, you have become someone that I trust with my life, someone that I admire, and someone that I respect. You are the most caring, most loyal person I have ever met in my entire life. Since that first night you have been saving me, Dean. Every single day, and every way imaginable you push me to be my best self. You’re a wonderful father to our children, and someone that I am proud to call my partner. I love you very much, and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you.” Leaning over, you pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek and touched a hand to his chest, directly over his heart.
“Well, that’s going to be a tough one to follow. Dean, would you like to say your vows to (Y/N)?” Garth sputtered out as he wiped at his cheeks. The entire gathering of people seemed to be blowing their noses or blotting at their eyes with tissues.
“Um yeah..” he said, giving you a smirk before clearing his throat. “Here goes nothing…. We both know that I’ve seen a lot of bad crap in my life. Hell, I’ve seen enough for a hundred lifetimes. I never thought that I would be able to have anything good, never thought that I could have a life that didn’t revolve around the job. But somehow.. We found it. I never pictured myself a dad either..” As if on cue, David struggled his way out of his sister’s grasp and made a mad dash past Dean, only to be intercepted by Castiel who swooped him up easily. “but I guess we know how that turned out.” The two of you chuckled as Castiel whispered something into David’s ear, and were surprised when the two year old stilled and watched you both intently. With the toddler controlled, Dean continued. “I can’t promise that I will be the easiest to live with, or even tolerate. But I’ll will do right by you and the kids. I love you, (Y/N). You have given me everything, a home, a family. I guess what I’m trying to say is.. Thank you.”
“That was beautiful, Dean.” Garth said, slapping him on his back. “Let’s move forward shall we?” he asked, nodding to Emily. She stepped forward, producing the wedding rings and placing them in his hand. He gave one to each of you before continuing. “Do you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), take Dean winchester to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this moment forward?”
“I do.” you said, smiling excitedly and sliding the golden band on his ring finger.
“Do you, Dean Winchester take..”
“Yeah, Garth.. I do.” Dean interrupted, his eagerness making your heart beat wildly inside of your chest. He slowly slipped the ring onto your finger, both of you taking a moment to admire how it looked alongside your engagement ring.
“Well by the power invested in me, thanks to the internet, I now pronounce you two kids husband and wife! Well go on, KISS HER!” Dean raised an eyebrow at Garth’s encouragement, giving you a devilish smirk before reaching forward and pulling you into him. The crowd erupted with applause but nothing else mattered to you as soon as his lips touched yours. You let yourself get lost, pouring everything you had into the kiss. You heard the distinct sound of Sam whistling when Dean dipped you back, deepening the kiss and allowing you the opportunity to wrap your hands around the back of his neck. Smiling, he pulled back and gave you a wink before returning you upright. Emily ran forward, wrapping her arms around your waist while Dean turned around to retrieve David from Castiel. With your children wrapped around you and your husband whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion. When it was just you and Emily, you had been happy. But there had always been something that was missing from your lives. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine being a part of this family and having so much love in your heart.
You weren’t sure what the future held for you, but you were certain of one thing. The ten years in waiting? They were worth it.
#dean winchester#deanxreader#dean winchester imagine#imagine dean winchester#spn imagine#supernatural imagines#Sam Winchester#castiel#eileen#garth#Ten Years in Waiting#jordanwinchesterimagines#jordan loves you#wedding#domestic!dean#dad!dean#it's a wedding#THE FINAL PART#becoming a winchester#crying because this is finished#supernatural#best friend!sam#castiel is a baby wrangler
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I love you
November 1st 2017 Hey you, it's 4:38 pm on wednesday. I haven't heard from you much today, and I feel like you think it's me that's not reaching out to you. Actually I know because you told me lol. You told me when you messaged me and I could do the same but honestly this won't get us anywhere. I know you messaged me and told me you loved me and I answered. And I appreciate that. Wait let me not get side tracked this isn't even why i'm writing. I'm writing to let you know i'm not upset at you. I don't have any reason to be upset. I'm writing because I told you I wouldn't have any expectations when you'd go out. And it's true. I don't... that's why I messaged you early to tell you to have fun. I don't know if it's because you were getting ready or you get distracted when you're gunna go out but this usually happens. And then I don't hear from you for a while. Stephy i'm not saying this to make you feel guilty or upset or put pressure on you. Not at all. I might not even send this to you. I might not put it on my blog. I'm just letting my thoughts out cause you got me used to it. But yeah all this to say that my expectations are just gone for when you go out. It's not fair for you and it's not fair for me. Like yesterday I was genuinely surprised when you messaged me. And like I was actually excited for you to go out. It was a different setting from you and you had been spending a lot of time talking to me so you needed to socialize with your friends and stuff. It just sucks that I knew that I wouldn't hear hear from you much yesterday night/this morning but that's okay, what sucks is that I knew I wouldn't hear from you today either and you had a day off. It sucks that I can't have expectations when it comes to that you know? And you know what, it scares me that i'm not upset and I don't want it to push me away. But it naturally makes me calm down because you need your space and you need me to not even mention those situations for you to feel okay about your decisions. Once again i'm really sorry if this is coming as a " aaah Steph you didn't message me" session because it's not. It's not about me being upset because I'm not. It's not about me saying I don't trust you or anything like that because it's not the case. It's really just me telling you about my feelings. C'est un peu partout I know it's kinda messy mais c'est ca... I love you Steph I really do. I'm crazy about you. It's the first time I can say that to anyone lol. Bon you messaged me. I really doubt i'll post this. I just needed to explain how I feel with November 2nd 6:34 am.... we texted last night and I kinda explained what I felt above and you were sad and went to bed. You said you'd call me this morning but you haven't. You had mentioned yesterday that you'd have a group meeting today but it's not in the calendar so I don't know if I should just call you or risk bothering you. I don't know if I should call you or give you space to gather your thoughts. I know I should just call. But last time when I gave you time you wrote me the letter. I feel like that letter did you some good, like it helped you get everything out. Actually... it's almost noon and you always text me when you get up. It was calls at home first that changed to texts that changed to calls in the metro to now nothing. I guess yesterday was really weird for you based on what you want out of the next year or so. I realized something. I realized how I felt about you before. I realized how I felt every time I felt you pushing me away. I felt far from you Stephy I really did. That's including when i'd see you like once a week. Let me try to explain... during that time I had no expectations from you to message me, from you to tell me about when you'd go out and stuff, about you telling me you were taking the metro with the guy from your class who you had a little crush on even if he had a girlfriend. I had no expectations about anything because that's where we were at in our relationship. I couldn't have any expectations from you about when i'd see you either and that's because of me too. I actually had a girlfriend. Either way our feelings or each other weren't quite in that space either. Bref here's what I actually wanna say and please don't take this the wrong way. Before us having this. Before our first night at rat tails, I felt such a distance between us. I felt like we just both enjoyed each other's company and that sex was as good as it gets so what's the harm right? I was obviously still feeling really crazy about you as I always have, thinking about you so much every single day just waiting for my phone to vibrate with your name written on the screen. Sometimes it would happen, what an amazing surprise but sometimes it wouldn't. That was okay too. My point again was that it was okay. And we'd see each other and make each other feel good. Feel great even. I'd forget about me having a girlfriend. I'd forget about you telling me about this person or that person. I'd forget about us going back and forth about who didn't text who. I'd be happy we had sex and let our frustration and attraction towards each other out all at once. I'd also feel weird emotionally. Sometimes my feelings for you would pop up and I'd feel like what we were doing was too much for me. Other times i'd feel like I had pushed my feelings so so far out and that it was just sex. I couldn't believe that this is where we were at. And I can explain. I couldn't believe that I loved someone so much, that I was able to block of the idea that you cod be mine, that you could possibly one day be all mine and that I cod be yours. That is the full truth. I just knew the possibility was at zero. And I felt it from you also. I felt you pushing me away when you would take your distance from me. Everytime for years it frustrated me more and more. Me letting our sex be just sex more and more every time. It still didn't feel like cold sex to me even if you've told me that you've felt that with me before, but I still felt connected to your body, I still felt like we were supposed to be having sex. It just felt like it could have been more. I had so much anger in my heart before because you wouldn't let me in. It's not even that you wouldn't let me in it was more like you'd push me away before you could let me in. ( and please once again don't take this the wrong way I know I had a girlfriend) i'm just explaining how I felt. You couldn't know what I knew. I knew that I felt like i'd never be good enough for you. Ever. Wether it was because I wasn't ambitious enough. Interesting enough. Not out going enough. Didn't travel with you. Wasn't there with you when you went to all those countries and hooked up with people. Wasn't there with you when you'd be more distant from Me and hook up with people here. All these things made me feel like i'd never be good enough for you and that I wasn't what you wanted as far as love. And that is the exact reason why I had no expectations from you. All that changed in one night. I didn't know it then but I know it now. Our first date. I saw you look at me in such a way Steph. Maybe to you it was just a " aww what a "pooch" I wanna kiss him" but to me it was more Than that. I felt you looking at me as if I was the best thing ever to you. As if we had never had sex before and that you wanted to for the first time. That night I knew I were in trouble if I didn't keep my guards up. That you'd be able to pull me in as close to you as you wanted and push me away whenever. I was scared, but things progressed naturally. I didn't feel frustration when you'd come hang out with me in my backyard. I didn't feel frustration when you'd come over every day. I only felt good. I only felt good and couldn't wait to see you when i'd get home from work. I couldn't wait to see you when you'd call me in the middle of the night to tell me you were here. I couldn't wait to see you when we'd go to mcdonalds on fridays. I was happy when you fell asleep in my arms and we didn't have sex. I felt genuinely close to you and it felt great. That's when I started calling you my girlfriend even if we were kinda joking. But then that last 10 days or so came. First there was the hickey night. Ouf. The. There was the whole saturday where Kadine had seen them. I was like man... Steph ! But I figured you'd be leaving soon so... what's the harm? You were furious at me for not answering you because I was helping her sister move. And I couldn't text you because... well the hickeys! But you wanted me to manage your expectations Which I understand now but I was too busy being a boy then. I'm a man now lol. And I can say that because I had to make a real adult like decision to have you and stop being a boy. Bref to get back to it, you came over monday. We had fun and all and I let you go home early because of Ottawa the next day. You were still upset at me about Saturday and you had every right. And if things work out between i'm telling you this is one of those things i'll make it up to you for. Then Tuesday, Ottawa and Casstleman! What a great day. Again I didn't think much of it then it just felt natural. Wednesday I realized that you leaving and us just going back to the no expectation and just living our lives or being more distant with each other wasn't going to be easy. What?!? How did this happen? When did this change? I was so sure that we'd just get back to... that! Now I can't even say it out loud? It's okay you'll just come right out and say it I thought to myself... but no! Seems like you were having the same struggle as me. And then what? We tell each other that we love each other??? Shit but you're leaving! Now I realize that this no expectation business is actually so far behind! We've been so close to each other for so long and I just couldn't see it! I can't let this go. There's no way. I'm actually in love with you. I don't want the frustration anymore. I haven't felt it in so long. I wanted to feel real love and I do. But I still had my part to do to feel it. To truly know what love is. To break that mental barrier I had because of my own personal life. I had go love you and only you. And I did. And I still do. I'm all yours. I only wanna be yours. It feels amazing. I know you're far away and I skipped a bit because I was getting in writing mode and that's bad because once it gets going it doesn't stop lol. All this because I wanted to tell you something. I know you're sad because of everything I told you yesterday. I also know that you didn't wanna feel pressured or feel like you were making me sad that you were out and stuff but at the same time you kinda do want that. You wanna be in a relationship and this kinda comes with it. It's just about finding a balance with all that. Let me explain. I think that the fact that I wasn't giving you a hard time about not hearing from you or constantly trying to figure out where you were made you sad a little. Because you realized that I went back to how things were a bit. I had to force myself not to care. Is it a good thing? For you to be at ease right now and to be able to enjoy your experience in Italy, yes of course. For me or for us? No because it pushes me away slowly. Maybe i'll be able to control it, maybe there will be a bit of frustration that comes back at one point I don't know. All i'm saying Steph and that's me being 100% honest with you is, you have to tell me how you want me to be for you. Because there isn't one thing i'm not willing to do to make you happy. Not one. ( except putting objects in my butt, pee stuff armpit stuff and sharing you) other than that i've felt the worse before. And that's knowing our potential and yet feeling like you're pushing me away. Not feeling good enough. Shutting down all my emotions for you was the hardest thing i've had to do. But i'd be able to do it again if that's what you needed. ( I know it's not i'm just saying that if it's something in between that i'd clearly be able to meet you there) Steph I love you and I don't know when i'll post this but I will. I think i'll leave it at that I have to get ready for work. Je t'aime. 7:44 am
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from surviveandrebuild.com:
…very tired…
Posted on November 3, 2014
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It’s all been too hard to write anything for the blog. Survival only, isolation, utter disappointment. It’s not been worth it. Life. Other than the true – like the sky, bird chirp, the scent of the fall harvest or of spring, a child’s response. One learns to “be” good, then learns to think the “good” – we call it “ethics” – but that is all belief – a marketing product. Cultural propaganda of different times, different
rules. So one succeeds or fails by prescription for gender, race, or class, but failure is always one’s personal failure regardless of…no, exactly because of believing that belief.
The short paper not (yet) written, just the thought of the enormity and invisibility of the problem despite the many exposés: “The Complicit Professions.” Fucking lawyers, politicians, and not corporations as are so accused, but those actual persons who own or work for the dead corporate body or those with funds to buy the “concern” of the lawyers, judges, politicians, and investors. And …
***
I’ve heard from the NM lawyer that he’s not found a Texas lawyer interested in the case. Let us all fall down and roll around laughing. Because the boys and girls got themselves a racket. Can’t disturb that. Even if I die. Even if it were fraud from the beginning by “my” own lawyer. By his lawyer. All neatly worked out and settled. Just keep me hanging on, keep me believing that there was something called law and that there would be justice.
It’s a cultural and national – though not exclusive to the US/us, but perhaps more pervasive down the classes thinking themselves soon-to-be-lucky – assumption of empowerment by screwing your fellowman for all the profit and purchased status to be had.
I do not know what next. There is no work here, editing has been scarce and was always part-time anyway and often gifted to friends or special projects. The qualified résumés have not received acknowledgement except in one case where I am an alumna. It is very much the “primo system” here where the positions are posted only because of federal requirement, but are pre-filled. All resources are gone and local aid that I’ve donated to over the years seems to be a farce of administrative fantasy by the Do-Good religious. To have accepted any help at all would have meant losing Windy and Cooper. And my books. The fraud of the decree has meant years of punishment while I believed in the LAW and in lawyers, in what was “legal” coming to pass, and in truth. Dignity and means have been stolen, my education and degree delayed again and again. Now, to finish up and necessarily update after a year away from the books and thinking means time and space to read and think. I looked at Amazon yesterday…how, when?!? J-LN has at least 3 new books out that I didn’t even know of. And so many other books of thinking-through that I’ve not yet read but see you discussing at FB. Feeling lost and hopeless…and denied. Of everything. And now, my health. I sit here in pain.
There is Santa Fe Woo-Woo going on at the table behind me. Time to leave, go to the storage unit to gather the next layer of small things I stacked at the door so they won’t be in the way when Lu gets there. Then, if the grass has dried, to the Railyard Park for our roll in the grass. It’s hard on the corgis, so little movement allowed in the house and now the courtyard is wet and cold. But we’re together. They take such good care of me.
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…missing the Halloween trick, hoping for a treat…
Posted on October 31, 2014
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At the house I moved out of a year and 76 days ago, there was a railing at the driveway and then steps down to the front door. The doting parents would stand near the railing as the spooks and goblins traipsed around and down the stairs calling out, “Trick or Treat!” We were waiting, corgis and I, the corgis so excited to see the children and I with my basket of napkins and treats.
“Fresh today! I just picked these up in the backyard this afternoon! Corgi poops!”
And there they were, lookin’ like the real deal corgi poop! We TRICKED ‘EM!!!
“EWW!” most of them squealed, parents cracking up in the driveway,
and a few savvy kids saying, “Oh, yum! I want corgi poops!” Every year now I am SO disappointed that WholeFoods no longer sells the chocolate macaroons
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. . . on doubting the possibility of the possible. . .
Posted on October 27, 2014
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It is Sunday evening, 9 p.m. I just applied my last two red Post-its to page 49, the last page of the chapter, “On Phrase”, in Flusser’s On Doubt. Thank you, Drew and Jason, for the most hopeful moments of this day…to read, to think. And, especially, to skip ahead to the last lines of the book. …Really enjoying Flusser!
A later departure this morning after working on the pantry boxes to be stacked in a dusty outdoor-access storage space and doing a thorough dust and sweep of 122 Circle Drive. Beautiful morning – as I considered a first stop at the Railyard Park, Windy yelped! A funny sound – a flash of hard rain – by the time I grabbed Windy and got her inside, it had stopped. The rest of the day was like that: shifting weather, iffy Wifi, and loneliness. No personal e-mails, no posts at FB, no faces.
No faces. I do understand that the situation has gone on over-long. That I have been over-needy. That interest is over.
When we returned to the house, I brought Windy’s stroller inside and began scrubbing down car seats and rolling balls of corgi fur from the carpet. Just no way to prevent the mess with them not having had a bath in a year, still shedding, and now putting on winter coat. Carried in the rug the stroller rests on, the pad from the front seat, and 2 old towels for washing. The fur on the dryer filter gathered into tennis ball size. The point, of course, a cleaner car…as I type this realizing I was confused.
Tomorrow – today when I post this – the boxes must be sealed and loaded to the car for Tuesday, last chance, delivery. The 28th. On Wednesday, the 29th, I have to assume it becomes part of public record that I am an uninsured driver, that I’ve not paid. It is also the day the car payment is due. 3 days before storage payment is due. It doesn’t matter for the reason I was cleaning the car – a catch-up on a task that would make for a cleaner space to sleep in. I can drive back to the house after I take the boxes to storage, after I check e-mail and stop by PakMail, make last EBT purchases
at Whole Foods.
The car payment could be late. Again. But not insurance. No driving beyond Wednesday. No internet beyond Wednesday. The reverse of repossession, to have and not possess. The confusion being with repossession, we’d be on the street, not sleeping here at the house…but, then, not in the car either. A con-fusion of 2 crises.
After recharging properly 2 times, the cell phone (or the charger) is again not working properly. Almost dead – I’ll try a different outlet overnight and will try to remember to post the results tomorrow. I have some stamps, no envelopes. Several addresses – I will write to someone if the phone doesn’t make it.
Such a treat the last few days to have had chicken for the-meal-a-day, a gift from friend, Ray. The usual is half cups of brown rice and vegetables, topped with egg, microwaved. I’ll replenish supplies tomorrow. Also, almond milk, and treat myself with a couple of apples. I checked the “homeless box” at Teca Tu today, only cat food. We may have enough still for a week. Plenty of reading material. The EBT amount for the homeless is out of touch…can’t buy prepared foods…where/how is the homeless person to cook? Also, Chase gifted themselves with 2 weeks worth of EBT by using holidays as an excuse to move the payment date from the 1st to the 15th of the month.
437 days, nights, holidays, birthday, 4 seasons, 4 houses, several parking lots, 2 corgis, 2 pair of jeans, 3 hoodies. Success! I did not fail! – that is, he hasn’t accomplished murder yet. Thank you for your attention, care, and support. I am NOT the only person this has happened to / is happening to. Justice is a failed concept when profit-driven lawyers interpret law by the playing rules of neoliberal capitalism. May shut down Crowdrise…the amount was a thought of getting through enough time for legal action, a court date, a settlement. …May not shutdown Crowdrise…hope is only fantasy…no, shut it down. No more fantasy. Justice.
Or…an auction! You, too, can have a storage unit in Santa Fe! Going once! Going twice! A car payment? Yours! How about a cell phone account? It’s 11:30. I’m bonkers. Broken. Or, via Flusser…damn, hope Flusser can explain all this…Doubt.
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Rough week…and then it was friday.
Posted on October 25, 2014
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The worst week of this ordeal other than the first week
with its emergency surgery. I was shocked to note an hour ago
that tomorrow is…Saturday? I can’t even recall which days held
which crisis… Monday was the possibility of moving out of 2
storage units about to be auctioned off…couldn’t pay. Tuesday
was a possibility…couldn’t pay. My friend waiting both days
for the call to bring his crew in after work…to work, to get it
all transported to another unit that I didn’t have the funds for.
And raining…the cardboard boxes of books would have gotten quite
wet. And the mattresses. So, good, bad, awful, but no way to live
when the whole scenario is one of longtime abuse. Fraud. Lie after
lie.
Tuesday! The move-out up in the air, crazy confused and trying
to remember that I had an appointment with a lawyer I had seen a
month earlier. He was late; I was getting into the car when he
came around the corner. A refresher on the issues and a couple
of action plans, the first being something called a TRO – that is,
a declaration of need and poverty that becomes a restraining order
for confiscation of property. Because I didn’t have $1200 to declare
bankruptcy. Can’t even afford bankruptcy. Or car insurance. A
dentist. Or…Windy’s death when the time comes. I went to the
Court House and got the paperwork, reported back…step after step to
try to save my books. Both devastated and grateful that there was
some small effort toward personal agency I could make. The lawyer
defined me as a “pauper.”
Wednesday. An e-mail. I’ll tell you another time. Same ol’ same ol’.
Thursday? So distracted, so worn, so busy…accomplished nothing.
Today, Friday, I set out to get done yesterday’s tasks – I had
filled the back of the car with odd shaped things from the shed here
on the property to squeeze into the new storage unit. Got that done,
but don’t see how the rest of it will fit. The big accomplishment
was payment of the car payment by my “unknown friend” with the help of
another friend – wonderful friends… Internet iffy all day, email to lawyer didn’t go out until late…and still no response. I can accomplish so little in a day between internet problems, having to move around, worrying about the corgis in the car, worrying about gas, being hungry
and always thirsty, tired, lonely. At the house, I can’t think something through, go to the computer to look up information, or contact anyone.
By the time we get back here, I’m barely walking, in so much pain and so weary…need, need, to make some appointments. Such effort just to make corgi dinners. And no late night research projects for the teaching project, for the dissertation, or local jobs.
But tomorrow is Farmers Market! The one treat a week, a flat bread purchased with the special FM wooden coins, maybe a red pepper or a
tomato. Never see anyone I know…or perhaps it’s that they don’t see
the homeless person, though my shredded hoodie does get second glances. Another trip to the storage unit to take the 2 exercise balls to wedge
in up high somehow. Later, after internet efforts, the pantry boxes must all be labeled – no idea where to put them. The little space they might fit near the rolling doors is hot and where it’s sprayed for bugs and rodents. Geico is due next Wednesday, $360 – car payment paid, but no
more driving. Or prescription insurance. Phone. Art storage. Punishment for crimes I didn’t commit, secrets not mine.
Also on Thursday, I had e-mail from a writer friend who now is also homeless. And saw another writer friend at Starbucks and heard the
news that he’d been a finalist for a house in Detroit, but didn’t get
it. Windy is trembling on the floor, a nightly nerve twitch. She’s weaker, slower everyday, but still happy and alert. Cooper stays near when she’s upset that I’m out of sight. A Starbucks gift card made possible their Puppy Lattes in the late afternoon – they’re considered the official mascots of the Mall location and have their own groupies. Since we got kicked out of the Mall, staff has learned our names and treat us very kindly.
Make the best of it I can. Each day. But this is miserable. Abusive.
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…last chance.
Posted on October 20, 2014
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Talked to Robert at ExtraSpace Storage – contributions to the
bill must come in on the same day, now TOMORROW. Unless
by waiting a day the main office ups the price, right now the
bill is at around $950 – a pay-to-vacate discount if moved out
on the same day. The mover has said he could come tomorrow
after the usual workday.
20 people at $50? Or any amount? Coming in as early in the day
as possible? Can you help in anyway at all? Do you know anyone
else who would help save my books, furniture, and clothing from
AUCTION??? Sitting in WholeFoods now, fighting tears. Hungry.
Please, tomorrow is the last day, the last chance.
I also stopped at the cheaper place, Santa Fe Self Storage. A
10×25 is $240. A 3 month special is 25% off. So, $160 – if I
understood correctly. Or, I think, half off for one month. Is
there anyone who could do that? David DeSantis is willing to
arrange access in and out of the gates after hours. Anyone?
http://www.santafeselfstoragecompany.com/Santa_Fe_Self_Storage.html
I have $100 dollars from a Crowdrise gift. The other money sent
was spent for food and gas. My bank accounts otherwise only have
the required $5 in each one. Both the late notice for the car
payment (now $500) and the car insurance ($360) bills arrived
today. I do have dog food and chews for at least another week.
Not having the car makes a lot of things iffy…but it is the
storage units that are breaking my heart. And Lu and his team
are willing to move at night after a long day. His team? Some
names you might recognize – runner from other countries who come
to Santa Fe to train at 9000 feet. Wonderful men, most from
Kenya.
Someone has offered to contact the ex-husband who has committed
fraud on every item of the decree and will inform of the need for
payment. Not likely he’ll do such a decent thing, but if that were
to happen, those funds would apply first and any other not charged.
But not likely. He has a neoliberal “win” going on…
Please. Do you know anyone else who would help? 15 months and
5 days. I am worn, beyond sad, need a hand, a shoulder, a word,
so badly. This would be the last loss, the unbearable.
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…barely standing, still no tears…
Posted on October 19, 2014
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(9 p.m., 10/17/14)
****, understand me clearly. No, I am NOT suicidal. This is murder by longtime abuse, both marital and by lawyers. It is not right for me to lose everything – not the financial support and those things along the way that would have provided stability, safety, and agency in my own life, but also those material-girl things in the last 2 storage units that I am taking so much criticism for. My intellectual and aesthetic life. The line is drawn there. Lose it, I’m gone. Won’t survive, don’t care to, won’t be complicit in my own abuse: done. And may he rot in liver disease hell and all possible public shame.
So, here comes Monday. I lose it all.
I’ll push through Tuesday on the chance the lawyer has anything to offer. I suspect now that he’s simply retired and doing the good deed thing. There is also the possibility that my e-mails were blocked. Nice man, he had ideas, knows people, seemed to be thinking it through – it’s worth hoping and showing up. 1:00 Tuesday.
The car payment is now 3 weeks late. Car insurance is due in a week and a half. Time to turn it in. I am trying to go back through the pantry boxes I did last week and sort things out for my host’s family and the homeless shelter. Shouldn’t leave anything in the house that would mean extra work for them. The other task is what was put in the storage shed here by friend, ****. If I have any cash at all, I’ll give it to him along with contact information so that he could move everything out on his own schedule. I’ll have to decide where it should go, or to whom.
If I had access to the 2 remaining units, I’d send my daughter’s dolls to her. Today I left a Nutcracker mug with a high school friend and asked that it be sent to her. As all that is left. A piece of furniture made by my son and the artist John Massee is also in storage…a heartbreaker to lose it. The Lysistrata bed and ropero. The sofa. 200 boxes of Eastern and Western philosophy books, psychology and counseling books, early childhood and learning disability books, poetry and literature, books I have edited. I lose all of that because my life does not matter exactly because I can’t “afford” to live in the land of fraud-made-legal, marital abuse as the standard, and compromise-for-crime as the liberal position.
Too tired, ****. 430 days and nights. In rags, in pain, often thirsty and hungry, always alone. Tonight, after my past-date tuna, I opened 2 boxes packed by my wonderful Kenyan long distant runner friends who work for Lu. One labeled “olive oil” – had all those kitchen counter kinds of things of olive oil and vinegars, salt grinder and pink, black, and red salts, garlic bulb jar, special little flower vase – my kitchen life. Another box was labeled, “socks, clothing and christmas” – ??? Yay, socks and a few supplements not yet expired! No clothing. A cute mechanical snowman and dog for the holiday table. And a small needlepoint corgi pillow for my bed I’ll never sleep in again.
Can you understand, ****? No one else seems to. This isn’t about something I did, or about being a “material girl”, or about not trying to do something about the legal situation, or about getting work. I’ve lived under this oppression and abuse for years and, for the last ten years,
every cent I could hang on to was paid to lawyers who cashed my checks and refused further communication, each lawyer covering for the last one. This was set up from the beginning. My “own” lawyer sold me out from day one. Greg’s had a ball! The delay game was fun! My children witnessed it…and deny what they saw, what they heard. They don’t yet understand the price they’ve paid, too.
It costs money to live in 2014. I have none and owe some. What I should have was stolen. What I owe was forced on me following lies upon lies. If there were actual justice functioning in the US today, all that would be repaid by those responsible. Properly sued, several people could face jail terms in addition to paying damages. But Monday my heart dies with the loss of my books. On Tuesday, the last hope. On Wednesday I finish the tasks so as not to leave any messes behind.
You have been an amazing friend. Thank you, ****
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…a bare life.
Posted on October 16, 2014
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Below, a Note posted at FB. Several hours later now, more despair. $100 to put toward the needed $1500 for the move Monday night. That’s gotta happen…don’t see how. And then lose the car? Losing the car means no more access to the current house, no access to any roof or safety at all. And Tuesday’s scheduled meeting with the volunteer lawyer? Reality is… I am beyond exhausted, beyond frustrated, beyond hope that there is anything like truth or justice to save the day…my day, my life. Trying so hard to hang with just today. It’s nearly 3, still haven’t eaten, and just spent $2 for tea to have internet access. And with gas down to $2.84 and at a half tank, that, too, out of that $100. Do you know any person, any foundation or charity, anyone at all who could help? It feels like my life is slipping away. In sadness, isolation, in a broken panic. Planned, choreographed by several persons, fraud. And my death.
FB, 10/16/14
FB Note: Update on the first day of the fifteenth month of homelessness: 427 days, nights, of despair. Year of lies that I could never get a solution for from “my” lawyer, much less even a response. And then the other lawyers who lied, cashed my checks, and stopped further communication – it was unbelievable…to me. Because I still believed in the law and the courts, in justice, in decrees and contracts. Even requests to the Judge were ignored. Everything I saved up lost to lawyer fraud and none of the contract items fulfilled – not the small house down payment, graduate school tuition, one car, health insurance, cost-of-living adjustment. None of that. Then, he was to retire, send a retirement fund required by divorce contract. Said, “No, not now, I’ll send it in 3 months.” I got out of the rent house in less than a week, everything in storage, the corgis and I in the car. There has been great kindness along the way, a first month at the house of a friend’s father, a month sleeping on the floor of a book store, a couple of weeks caring for 2 dogs, a month+ at another house with dogs, Motel6, the Silver Saddle, 2 weeks in Dallas, now at a home for sale. In between, a parking lot and a friend’s large driveway on the edge of town. $2 public showers. Internet at a grocery store and a coffee shop. The retirement fund never arrived, alimony was stopped.
427 days. 427 nights. Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall… Winter coming on.
Resources depleted. Friends have kept me going with gifts of funds, Visa cards for gas, WholeFoods and Starbucks cards, gifts of dog food. Last month a car payment. This month help with health insurance and storage funds to get out of 3 units and into a larger, cheaper unit. There are 2 more units with the most important – to me – things. Payment is 2 months behind, and the units must be moved out in 24 hours on Oct. 20. Car payment is already late, and car insurance due. Another insurance is due on the 1st, along with phone. And fees for the 2 new, cheaper storage units. The 2 units to vacate require professional movers. My friend, Lu, who has moved me 3 other times is willing to do the moving after working hours, at night. To get all of that done – chokes me – $3000. And 2 weeks later, cheaper storage fees, car, health insurance, phone, and gas comes to half that.
Right now…nothing.
Pushing myself through the days SCREAMING, still unable to cry, barely breathing, in bad pain, exhausted. The only possibility, one that I trusted a month ago before it disappeared, is a possible meeting with a local lawyer on Tuesday. Possible…no explanation as to not showing up as scheduled 2 weeks ago, no response to emails. But possible. On Tuesday. The move would be Monday if I have funds. And if not, after meeting with the lawyer Tuesday, the car would have to be dropped off at Del Norte Credit Union for repossession. We – Windy in her stroller, and Cooper – will be on the street, without the roof and locked doors of a car, no way to return to this house for safety. And no means or reason to keep on.
Years denied legal representation. Years without agency permitted in my own life. Years of secrets. A shattered family. I am broken into a thousand pieces, stooped, in pain. Most of my hair has fallen out, the hint of dental problems, and my 2 sets of clothing now rags. The broken elbow on day 3 also caused back problems that need to return to physical therapy – so hard to schedule anything when homeless, not knowing if I can be clean and on time.
Yes, there was some work – so grateful for the trust that carried – and a dozen résumés submitted, all qualified for the editing, non-profit, teaching, and fundraising positions posted. All along the way I have been blamed for not finding work, for not taking on just anything (even if it meant leaving the corgis in a hot car and still not being able to pay rent), and, generally, being irresponsible. The actual legal issues ignored for a bootstrap message ignoring the current economic conditions and the local standard of pre-hiring – NM’s longstanding “primo system.”
So much learned, seen, beaten into me. So weary. And yet. Still. A drop of justice, of dignity restored, safety… There is so much to think and write, children to read to, faces to receive, hands to touch, wine to share, your voice, corgi love. This folded up, bent, squeezed, shrunk life…is no life at all. Just a struggle to breathe, eyes dry and mouth swollen, leg cramps, posture twisted. The cheese sample for breakfast, for lunch. A dog walk hoping there is no parking ticket when we return. Having people take a second look at the large holes in my clothing. Not having money put away for the day when Windy tells me: “It’s time.”
I need $3000 to survive this one week. To save my books and car (for safety). To shrink my expenses. To survive long enough to explore a last chance legal opportunity. For agency against so many years of fraud. And abuse. I am so tired. Please help…
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10:03 p.m., 10/13/14: Bach Cello Suites #2, 3, & 6. Mstislav Rostropovich (1995).
Posted on October 14, 2014
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Got it done! All thanks to friend, Willem! A busy day for him already with farmers market tomorrow – he’s the best baker in Santa Fe, and the healthiest. And also invites the community in to learn professional baking skills! So, today, with all that going on, he met me at the storage unit – not sure, four runs? Maybe more, we worked about four hours. No truck, but a big ol’ station wagon with no seats and a wood floor – it was perfect for all the hanging bags, kitchen boxes, plastic boxes with folded clothing, big boxes with shoe boxes, boxes of dishes – all the last-stuff-out-of the house stuff. So, three units moved to one that only costs $170. I’ll figure the savings when I can think again… New unit will be dusty, doesn’t have a light, is really basic, but…grateful. It was good to see dishes, pots and pans, bank records, the small kitchen table I’ve had for years. AND, in an unlabeled box that I opened, FIVE boxes of contacts! plus my hair brush, make-up mirror, and basics like bandaids. I brought a few of the smaller hanging bags back to the house in hope that I can put together a couple more things to wear. I thought I had put the jacket and hoodie from Bianca in one of the units waiting to be moved, but both were in a box at this unit – really weird, but so glad! For me, almost like a party…except it was such hard work. And when it hurt so bad, the thoughts were bad, too. How could anyone do this? He’s done this again…and again…I kept believing “the law” would deal with it.
The pay-to-vacate $200 came from *you* – thank you.
10:30 p.m. …time to shut down here, sleep. Can hardly believe this got done today. So grateful, a bit hopeful.
Thank you…
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7:51 p.m., 10/12/14: Bach Cello Suites #1, 4, & 5. Mstislav Rostropovich (1995)
Posted on October 13, 2014
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Breathing. Pacing. Loving Windy and Cooper. Grateful for a warm house and bed.
Saw longtime friend, Willem, on Saturday at Farmers Market. Followed up with an e-mail, and today he offered the use of his “funky van”. I’ve e-mailed several kind, male friends and asked if anyone would be available, or knows anyone else who could be, to move things tomorrow or Tuesday (10/13-14). Long shot that it’ll work out…Extra Space pay-to-vacate terms require being out of the space within 24 hours. The unit is
small, not full, but with items bigger and bulkier than I can handle on my own. I do have the needed $200 from friends who gave at Crowdrise.
Does that sound calm? It is…perhaps too much so. It only matters at all if the rest of the problems work out. Later this week, the car payment is due; at the end of the month car insurance is due: can’t have one without the other. And by October 20, the pay-to-vacate monies of $1200 are due in order for Lu Rojas to move things at night to another storage space that will cost $240 a month. Astilli is already late at $207 – will drop by the office tomorrow to speak with David. Health insurance did get paid (late), as did phone. But phone will be due again at the end of the month. That all comes to $2600 but doesn’t include any buffer for gas, food…or the possibility of Windy needing end-of-life care. I have no money at all. 90¢ in a coin purse for parking…but we go nowhere now where there are parking meters. Just to Whole Foods and to the mall. I don’t pay at the Railyard Park – with fingers crossed – and make a point of picking up trash from the grassy lawn that Cooper and Windy love so much. No money at all…with what was left from the
dog food gift, I filled up the tank when the price of gas dropped a few more cents. When that’s gone, and the car payment not made, insurance not paid…actually sooner – when the last storage units are not saved from auction, it is all over.
The gap. Between being called forth each day, the pull of the morning, of loving companions, of the faces of all the others when I enter Whole Foods, or when we sit outside at Starbucks: the three of us “show up”…respond, participate, are grateful. On the other side of the gap: has it been worth it? For what? and why? To add up the columns of what is called “human”, no. It has not been worth it. Humans not being worth it. Con-fusions and failures of every sort, the most basic and obvious sorts, the loss of all those attributes that human ego cares to claim: failure. Loss. Abandonments at every level, and cruelty passed around like a feel-good drug. The personal experience. The political standard. All covered over with romantic religious myth or that higher calling of nation and birthright. That the shared public failure is so great, so too, then, the personal. No reprieve, no consolation, no face of the other(s) that respond larger and truer than what is shown on the evening news or in the commercial. Not that one can count on. The relation called community, with-ness, singular-plural, like a moment soon lost, a mirage. A sadness when again I realize we are alone at the end of each day. 414 of them.
There are exceptions. We would not have survived these 14 months without those who didn’t allow us to be invisible and forgotten. You.
But I am tired. So weary. I respond to the sun and to the faces of Windy and Cooper and begin each day. But each day I’ve lost ground. Hope. Dignity. No response from the lawyer or any of the legal aid groups. No real aid of any sort from service groups. For years I’ve
contributed and thought we had built a safety net. A joke. And a political reality that grows worse each day. To be homeless, in need, poor – all seen in stereotype, dealt with in platitudes.
The end. 1st, the next 2 days to move out of the 3rd unit. A maybe. Then, car payment? Then the big bill on the 20th for the last 2 storage units? Not likely. And no sense to continue with this list. It’s over. 14 months. I am frail and worn by injustice. Weary of blame and the refusal of acknowledgement of the actual issues.
The next tasks will be to get the things I’ve brought to this house into the one storage unit so that my host won’t have to deal with any of it. When the car is repossessed – or if not, then when I’m stopped for not having insurance, then no transportation and we will be on the street.
The old obit can kick in then…no need for a rewrite. Just a date change. Money is a problem. Exactly most people don’t have any extra. And so many of you have been so generous along the way. The needed amount plus no legal plan in sight shuts down possibility. I still refuse
the injustice. The only thing I can hope for is that my story is one more added to the pile, perhaps to the bonfire. The one that burns the neoliberal non-ethic to the ground, the scorched earth solution that re-births, re-maps human possibility, singular-plural.
I loved you. Don’t forget that.
*I do regret not having gotten my writing done, that I didn’t get to read yours. And that I haven’t been able to do more for Windy and Cooper. Family members chose their inheritance by ignoring the situation: consequences that make each one complicit in the crime.
*I did not choose to die before my time.
*Even still, somehow, maybe soon? Humans can do better than this. It would have been so much fun, so joyful, for it to have been during my lifetime. Such grief.
*I love you. L and K, I have missed you so much.
9:30 p.m.
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412 days / nights / summer – fall – winter – spring – fall . . .
Posted on October 11, 2014
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10/10/2014
It’s 5:47 p.m. and freezing in the house. I gave the corgis each half of a dental chew, then got under the covers with Flusser’s The History of the Devil, but was still cold. Hoping to hear the grating whine of the old machinery soon. I liked the introduction and the first chapter very much – felt like cheering! But chapter 2, the story line of such a
personage…not so much. As in, why create a human-like personage rather than stay with identifiable, enculturated processes? Etc…not quite through the chapter. So cold. And Cooper is staring at me with a message, “Time for dinner.”
…grain-free, dry dog food – grateful to D – topped with the new dinnertime treat: pieces of organic, frozen broccoli-cauliflower-carrot mix, organic even and quite inexpensive. They seem to think I’m topping dinner with ice cream! Cooper still has so much coat, I’m not sure he’s actually lost weight. Heater came on a bit after 6 pm. Now, still early, no free-access for them of the house, and the courtyard is muddy. The evening will be a litany of “need to go potty? Let’s go potty!” Today’s showing that I cleaned for was cancelled, so should be
prepared for a rescheduling. Grateful for a firm bed, the not-so-warm shower, the frig and microwave, washer and dryer. But no down time, no focused follow-through, no work accomplished. Just to-do lists that don’t quite get knocked off. A deep weariness…
So, no more means. No way to keep on. No desire to cooperate with the mistreatment. To be denied home, car, medical, income, access to school and work materials, and left homeless, on the street: 412 days / nights / summer – fall – winter – spring – summer – fall…and an early winter. Can’t do it. Not as if “doing without” preserves my books, increases my chances of a court date, a court settlement, or even gets me that invitation to holier-than-thou status as some suggest awaits my full cooperation with loss of personhood, dignity, and livelihood. Tuesday
I will know that I’ve lost the belongings of a small storage unit holding things like clothing, gardening tools, holiday decorations, shelving – those practical garage-type things. And…I’m not sure what else. It was the last storage unit, the last things out of the house. Should be a
CD player. Things belonging to the long-lost children. Dog crates (which would be helpful at this house). Several kitchen appliances that were in the cabinet. The pink prom dress, the wedding dress, the sewing machine, a couple of coats. I don’t know for sure. It is not as though
Israel is bombing Santa Fe. Or, that Ebola survival demands leaving town. Or, that because he and the lawyers have gotten away with fraud, I should just disappear into the desert.
The house would be paid for now, have a garden, a library, a yard for the corgis, and a renter. Education was to have been paid for – I put him through medical school and training. He refused with, “I don’t have to do that.” So interest continues to accumulate and all those recently lost
seasons meant no dissertation defense in Saas-Fee last summer. The games and tricks along the way were jaw-dropping at times, the multiple lawyers reassuring that the issues could be righted, and he won the delay game called “time limits” on AID (Articles Incident to Divorce). And he lost
everything relating to authentic personhood, self-esteem, and right action. Had I only understood the Devil back then, Vilém Flusser! God can have the ex-husband. Crucifixion sounds about right.
But the dumb, fully-enculturated, “good girl” finally figured out there is no Santa Claus and certainly no Easter Bunny. Figured out our failed democracy and successful state corporation is served by the fully self-serving legal profession – otherwise known as “the Law.” Equivalent
to “absence of ethics” and “always sell-out to the highest bidder.” My own lawyer – that’s a joke – was in on it from the beginning. Etcetera…
So, no more means. No way to keep on. Vilém was my companion tonight in a sporadic fashion, even more crazed and breathing heavily, and no conclusion. His only advice: Scribere necesse est, vivere non est.
10:30 p.m. Windy and Cooper asleep next to the bed. The heater has cut off, the chill settling in. Most of last winter I slept in the car. So cold so early in October, my body is in protest, in pain. The warm coat I was given is in one of the 2 storage units I don’t have funds for along with the duvet. Vilém calls the coat and duvet “products of life”, “proper to life” – as is writing, as is the impossibility of silence while living on “the last vestiges of hope.”
Day 410. . .
Posted on October 9, 2014
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Cold from sitting outside at Starbucks, the weather finally making the connection iffy, I wasted $3.73 of a Crowdrise gift on a hot mocha for the drive back to the house. Hot but not good, and I felt shame for the indulgence. And lonely. And done.
To achieve the tasks of the next two weeks requires money, quite a bit of money, and more than anyone I know has to spare. And more than most would risk on such a failure of a person who has not lifted herself by those bootstraps of personal accountability and the propagandas of self motivation, self worth, self marketing: of course there’s work for
those who show up to do it! I was shamed recently by a person who lives here and remains clueless as to the current unemployment rate, the few low wage positions, and the run-round of the federal law requiring posting of positions for jobs pre-filled, applications and résumés not even acknowledged. I showed up on that scene. Qualified. The shame is not mine.
I’ve thought recently as to my loyalty to New Mexico – why? A visit to Santa Fe, the rare vacation with the ex-husband, left me with the impression that its size was manageable, the culture varied and interesting, that there was a sense of return having lived in NM from the
ages 5-12. Surface impressions and irrelevant later to the real experience that made a second inquiry necessary. What felt good about New Mexico? First grade. Mrs. Ellard. Learning to read and feeling acknowledged as a person. And sixth grade, Mr. McFadden. Just the sense that he knew what was ahead for us going to jr. high school and that he wanted us to be prepared and successful – a sense of agency for success. The big blue sky? Yes, but that became a heartbreaker during the Los Alamos fire and the awareness of all that I was not to understand behind the cultural spectacle called tourism. NM is a nuclear colony.
Acceptance and community didn’t happen. I don’t think it exists except in enclaves of identification and security that I didn’t want to be caught up in. Wasn’t there something larger? More inclusive? Less provincial? I really did miss the class issues even as the economic lines were clearly drawn by altitude, zip code, private education for your child, and whether you could avoid the chain stores for more expensive local businesses. It doesn’t matter now except not to waste more effort on the fantasy. What I don’t know is whether the same scenario is repeated in different local spectacles, similar politics, the same “values.” The only difference I can come up with that would challenge the national regurgitation is
intellectual: praxes of thought, reading, intentions of evolving community, and shared decision-making on corporate usurpation of local agency.
Where? How? What do I have to offer? Since the fire and the near-nuclear disaster, the writing yet to be done has been on thinking through where one chooses to “take a last stand.” Where does one choose to stay and stand, protect and serve, share and support? A conscious choice, the commitment, the courage to think critically: a praxis of being-with, of communitas. Without political provinciality or the rigidity of religious stupor…both blindly determined by neoliberal capital justifications. Or, from Arakawa+Ginns: “we have decided not to die.”
Blah, blah…lonely thoughts, alone. 410 days, 410 nights. A second winter? No. I am done.
I have been denied legal representation by fraud, denied response to inquiry to the court, and denied fulfillment of the signed contract of the divorce decree. Again and again. If every effort wasn’t an act of robbery, it was a slammed door. My life – as mine – has been stolen: dignity, agency, accomplishment, security. Stolen. I have been on the street for 410 days and nights. Bravely. With as much dignity as I could muster. With daily effort to improve my situation. With responsibility to my corgis and for debts owed – car, insurance, mail box, storage units. I’ve done the best self-care I could manage under difficult conditions and limited resources. And I’ve asked for – and received – help from friends and strangers along the way. I appreciate each and everyone of you who kept me in sight and heard – probably more than you can know. A hard lesson of Santa Fe is that if you’re not a customer, you don’t really exist here – tourism or US culture? True, too, on FB, but not for you…face to face, you’ve hung with me. 410 days.
Now, too long, too much. To survive the next two weeks is too much to ask. To survive – costs of storage, car, insurance, gas – doesn’t solve it for the “next” month that would begin the following week…even with much less in storage fees, plus car, insurance, gas, etc. It’s an injustice, a series of crimes, that “the law” games to individual lawyer advantage, a “legal” lawyer scam against the easiest of targets: women. The 95 cents in my coin purse is a hard reality invulnerable to any fantasy 410 days into this – years into this. The whole marriage, all the years of the divorce. There is no Santa Claus, no Easter Bunny, no treats, only tricks. The support you’ve given – financial, emotional, practical – has kept me alive as human, as hopeful, as reality check against the immediacy of despair. So much more than I’ve received right here in a community I’ve lived and participated in for years. Never really included, but I showed up, volunteered, contributed, paid my rent, supported the local businesses. Oh well. It’s the huge blue sky I will miss, the breeze, and the ravens who call me by name.
For those of you who disapprove of what I’m saying, I hope you will come to understand that I choose not to be complicit in the crimes against me, complicit by agreeing to the fraud. I refuse that. I refuse to willingly give up my life, the life that I made on my own, mostly alone, trying to understand the pathology and purpose of such effort to deny the basics of personal dignity. That pathology is his to bear. As it has become clearer, I have a choice: I refuse to participate.
If justice befalls me, or a windfall, or a falling into grace…
At 11:30 pm, I fall into bed and hope for deep sleep. Last night’s rest was from 7 am to 8:30 am. A dark night of review and despair and decision: I won’t participate in the crimes against me as though I, too, am guilty of such fraud. And I refuse the logic of “give up, move along” and the accusations of being “material”…
One little life. There were a few great moments, many wonderful small ones. That photo? the pigeons at St. Marks. Climbing the mountain. Cello and piano. Sitting at the Cristobal Yacht Club as a teen, first rum and coke, watching the sun set over the Atlantic. Cuba. Paris. Alphonso, J-L, Simon. Sanskrit. Editing. Dance.
The tastes, scents, and sounds of the world. The rare and wonderful withness of a few.
The Wounaan, Colegio Metodista, Universidad Landívar, the old cars in Havana, Cristobal High School, CZ.
My Lysistrata bed, portraits of my young children, memories of meals around an old table.
1 golden retriever, 5 corgis.
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With-ness, singular plural, we survived the week…
Posted on October 3, 2014
2
A week…productive of a sort that pushed through accomplishments that are new burdens, inopportune stasis, continuing wasted expense. But also of gratitude, the humility of knowing that the other was called forth by the face, the need, the moment. And to understand, gratefully, that one is always, a priori, in debt: singular-plural. Jean-Luc Nancy’s withness.
Good company, Ryan made three trips with his truck to get one storage unit emptied out and relocated to a small shed here at the For Sale home where we’ve been staying. More work because a recent wash-out relocated the gravel on the little driveway. He’s a great packer/stacker, and it seemed possible that we might get a second storage unit moved into the same shed, but after a revisit of the unit and the weekend’s consideration (and several gifts at Crowdrise), he brought Chris along for 5-6 trips to SFStorage, a cheaper (dusty) storage location near the ExtraSpace location. Plus Sam! – got it done! I had fantasies of a particular organization that
would allow me greater access, but not to be. Stacked. Tightly. And not enough room left over for the 2 units with the larger furniture and the 200+ boxes of books, but there is room for the 3rd unit at Pacheco St. and, soon, to move the things from the shed into storage. That unit, $170. Still more than I have. To move that last unit on Pacheco St., $200 within the week and 24 hours to empty it. So hope to get it done. Somehow.
My debt to Ryan, Chris, and Sam…it wouldn’t have happened without you. As in, at this point, I’d have no hope at all.
Next, somehow, I don’t know how… $200 and empty that third unit. I’ve seen it twice now and I still can’t quite recall…just what’s there, how much. An outdoor unit, high ceiling, stuff thrown in on the last trip of that move. I need to touch it all at least one more time. Those
clothing bags…I can’t even type the words…
I went by the San Mateo location today and spoke with Robert. Two units with sofa, roperos, bookcases, beds, all kitchen, all the philosophy books. By the 15th, $950; after the 15th, $1200. Professional movers required. Lu has said he could be available the nights of the 20-21st – if that’s still true after all this time. He’s the cool and collected thinker of this disaster. 14 months ago, it was his great team that made the move-out – the move to the street – bearable. A larger unit at SFStorage large enough for both units, $240.
Does that sound calm and collected?
I’M SCREAMING!!!
The stress of this, for so long, interminable and unresolvable in the injustice of it all, the isolation, the blame game by the righteous, and the lack of any place to rest, to be at home, to feel settled and safe. To always have an eye on the gas, the EBT card, and the calendar. After September’s last minute save by unknown friend for the car payment, there’s been the loss of health insurance and the car payment is again late…and car insurance and registration both due. And phone. And Windy 2 months late on shots.
On hold. No rewrite of the Obit. Yet.
Everyday, instant coffee made here, drive to Whole Foods for internet…hoping for a response from the lawyer I spoke to at St. E’s shelter. Who said he’d not abandon me, who asked questions, who seemed to be thinking of a plan and asked me to email documents. And whom I’ve not heard from. It’s all I have. That’s all.
Can’t see a doctor for PT referral, lose phone later this week, lose car on the 15th, probably don’t survive the night, but 2 weeks later, storage payments due.
I am very tired. In pain. Grateful always for Windy and Cooper, but worried for them, too. And every minute crazy-wanting-to-scream: THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU!!! Different particulars, but the same LOSS of any RIGHTS, LOSS of LEGAL REPRESENTATION, the casual INVALIDATION of LEGAL CONTRACTS, the SYSTEMATIC FRAUD supported by the COURT.
It’s a DEATH SENTENCE.
WITHOUT REPRIEVE, without an ethical and aggressive lawyer willing to break up the easy money game and the court-accepted abuse of women. The “fair and decent” divorce contract I signed was set up not to be fulfilled from the beginning, every request for information and legal action to “my” lawyer was ignored and AID item after AID item was allowed to be timed-out. From the beginning. And, now, at the end. 14 1/2 months on the street, no more resources, it’s murder. Time and again, with each AID past due, he said, “I don’t have to do that.” When I questioned it,”my” lawyer called me a “gold digger.” With my remaining 37 cents, I don’t survive the half tank of gas and the repossession. Or the illusion that there’s aid and housing for the homeless. Too common, too “close to home” for many people to grasp how common the loss of legal dignity actually is, how complicit across the courtroom the system is in undermining the terms of justice and the meaning of “legal.”
If I don’t make it…please tell him you know what happened, what he did.
Need:
Today – $40 for Credo phone bill
This week – $200 for storage unit, $500 for car payment, $315 for health insurance
Next week – $950 – 1200 for 2 storage units
Plus…gas, dog food, internet access, vet, car insurance and registration.
Or: legal representation, rights, full settlement for losses and suffering.
I am so tired, so lonely. The invisibility of homelessness, the trained unseeing of inequity, is real. So grateful for those who have hung in, came ’round, helped out, kept remembering the seeable me.
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Yesterday…9/26
Posted on September 27, 2014
Yesterday…9/26
Yesterday was such a good / bad day. Hard, hard decisions, hard work, but also successful, mission accomplished, a companion who was face, conversation, company, and then familiar enough with the situation and tasks to offer advice. I looked forward to checking in on you, sharing my day and its challenges, having even a bit of real exchange beyond cat and video posts. No one had come around.
Several months back, an employee at WF mentioned he needed crickets for his lizards and didn’t know if he’d be off in time to make it to the Bug Museum at that Mall. I was going to the Mall, I’d get the crickets. We had been sitting at a table just outside SBux next to a Bug Museum display case – it was time to check it out! It was also the first time I had ventured further into the Mall with the corgis – Cooper on leash, Windy in her stroller. There’s a sign saying “No Dogs”, at one time strictly enforced, but from what I was seeing, walking your dog in the Mall was OK. (…background to getting kicked out of the Mall several months
later…).
So, got a bag of very active crickets for Ryan. And we’d greet each other in the store, have short exchanges. Not quite remembering…but I (must have) asked him if he had a truck and did he have time to help move some things. Just an immediate yes. Turns out, he was at work until 2 am doing store inventory, didn’t get home until 3 am, but was at ExtraSpace at 10! Three loads into a third of the small shed at the back of the property. Simply could not have done it alone. No criticism, some conversation, good communication. Funny guy. Companionship that I haven’t had in so long. Good day. Tired, pain, worry, money and time logistics for the next units. May not finish this week’s race: 4 storage units, $1000-?, plus a new storage space and, hopefully, a negotiated delay on the last two units until Lu Rajas can handle the move (Oct. 20). …just to type that is overwhelming. If we can’t get this next unit into the remaining space of the shed…there’s no place to put it. Unless I locate and rent? another, cheaper storage space? Because I don’t have a home. The ex and the lawyers are laughing.
Good day to get something done, to have company…bad day to be continually denied my own life, the simple dignity of one’s own-ness of being, of thought, of expression.
It was good to find a few corgi supplies – packages of each of their favorite chews, maybe 2 weeks worth, plus 2 bottles of their vitamins! Tonight, as again they were making the point of “it’s chew time!” by sitting in the dark of the courtyard, not coming in…because it was
“chew time”…I surprised them! It was fun to see how pleased they were!
It was wonderful, it was so hard…clear plastic boxes of books…children’s books, pop-up books, Chinese poetry, psychology, gardening – just a sampling of what’s in the two units at the other
location. 100 boxes? a lot, in cardboard, couldn’t afford that many of the plastic boxes. But the next unit to move is just across the way from today’s unit. I had tried to leave a bit of space so I could work in it – had half a dozen white boards with notes, a plexiglass lectern salvaged
from SITE, desk chair, the unit the first one in the door so light shown on the tiny work area. But it got packed in too tightly to be used. I returned to it last spring to leave the warm jacket and the hoodie given by a friend and the winter boots that I will needed to survive…a second?
winter on the street.
Health insurance, $315, was due on the 25th. Car payment due today, $485 (2 weeks before repossession). Car insurance due 10/29. No means to rent another, cheaper storage space. Not enough to pay to get out of the units my friend is willing to move on his next day off, Tuesday ($300+$200). And the other location, 2 units, in limbo for payment, for whether ExtraSpace would wait for Lu Rojas’ brief availability on the nights on the 20-21st…and where to? That house I would have with the decreed down payment and paid off with the rent I’ve paid to lawyer-landlords? …Most of the books are there. And the metal sofa, bed, ropero, coffee table, bedside table – piece by piece as I saved for each, pieces by metal sculptor, John Massee. And the ropero John and my son designed and built together. Because I was such a shitty mom.
Clothing is there, too. The two pair of jeans alternated every three days for 13 months and ten days are close to indecent, wearing at the inner leg and rips just above the knees. The St. John’s hoodie is stretched-out respectable still, but the other one is full of holes. Putting it on yesterday, my hand went through a hole at the elbow, and I have to remember to put nothing in the pockets. But I SMILE…maybe people don’t notice the holes.
I’ve not kept up here as I intended. It’s simply been difficult…the day to day moving around to keep the corgis happy and to have internet access (so often iffy), the isolation of this house – next door to Carol Burnett’s home (now on 4th renovating owner) and across a small valley from the
monstrosity built and added on, added on, added on to by the first store manager of the first store – Walmart, that is. Not seeing people…or ignored. Not attending events because of no cash and my rags. Not going even to the Plaza now because no quarters for the parking meters. A recent appeal to locals I’ve known for years – 19 bcc’d – one response. The employees at WholeFoods have been kind, friendly, supportive in so many small ways. At the end of some days, my only people. SBux at the Mall, likewise. After being kicked out of the Mall on false accusation (Cooper?) and I wrote telling them what happened and thanking them, each barista now calls me by name. Several have made a point of talking with me on their way in or out of the store, concerned. I keep an eye on my status, mental, physical, financial. If I’m not going to make it, I won’t impose that situation on my generous host. I’ll say “fuck you, Greg” and “love you, friends” from elsewhere. No words for my children.
Today. It’s cold. No coat. And tomorrow a real estate showing. I need to dust and mop the house today, tone it again tomorrow, and be sure the courtyard is in good shape. The broom is hard on my back and on my weak grip, the ongoing gifts of the broken elbow. As I sit here, on the bed, the strange, irritating, worrisome thing is the loud ringing in my ears. Every morning…won’t stop until I drive away. Task this morning is to stop by the other ExtraSpace location and see if the manager, Robert, is there. To find out the move-out-fast rate and how much more it’ll be if I stay until Oct. 20. Lu is not charging to move me, and he’s the one I trust with the fragile nature of several pieces, but the wait and also PAYING?!? …for another space adds up to money I don’t have.
And a fantasy thought…to move to utopia instead. Just go. A place where my education and skills could contribute, a place where everyone doesn’t wear blinders to injustice, a place where we could read and think and talk together, where I’d know your children and where I could cook for you, or garden with you, or just take a walk with you: a living withness.
Windy is barking, vocalizing, worrying about me. And now, here’s Cooper. Clothes on, out into the cold. WholeFoods for internet time and then back here to clean. So hoping to hear from the lawyer I spoke with last Tuesday. If you read all of this lonely monologue, thank you for hanging
with me.
A last thought…Anastacia Barka at ExtraSpace would take phone payments for the $300 and $200 units. Faster than Paypal with the Tuesday deadline. 505-988-3692 She’s been very kind to me.
9/27…I arrived at Whole Foods, to Facebook, to messages of love and support. Thank you <3 <3 <3
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too tired…
Posted on September 24, 2014
3
Should post, catch up, but simply too exhausted, too ill. Leaving Whole Foods now, maybe will write tonight and post it in the morning. The stress is overwhelming…to lose everything else after losing all legal rights, all dignity? Exhausted. There was one bright spot today, a possibility…will tell you tomorrow. Those who are hanging in with me, thank you <3
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Reality by Certified Mail…
Posted on September 23, 2014
Certified Mail: Extra Space Storage, 1522 Pacheco St., Santa Fe, NM 87505
Notice of Lien and Foreclosure: Notification Date: Sep 16, 2014
Unit Number: D164
Auction Date: December 10, 2014
Auction Time: 10:00 am
Total Due: $578.00
Due Date: Sep 16, 2014
Certified Mail: Extra Space Storage, 900 W. San Mateo Rd., Santa Fe, NM 87505
Notice of Lien and Foreclosure: Notification Date: Sep 13, 2014
Unit Number: 1106
Auction Date: November 12, 2014
Auction Time: 9:45 am
Total Due: $776.00
Due Date: Sep 13, 2014
Certified Mail: Extra Space Storage, 900 W. San Mateo Rd., Santa Fe, NM 87505
Notice of Lien and Foreclosure: Notification Date: Sep 13, 2014
Unit Number: 1109
Auction Date: November 12, 2014
Auction Time: 9:45 am
Total Due: $776.00
Due Date: Sep 13, 2014
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…the end
Posted on September 19, 2014
car for two weeks more / gift from stranger through oldest friend / but still i die / death invisible inability to speak / but never to sleep / no sleep never / no breath no sleep no voice / no book no bed no-thing never again never / no right to be no space no rest / no being no i / no more / never
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…with held breath…
Posted on September 9, 2014
A full moon above the cluster of pines that protect the house from the gravel road. Whiter and brighter than white, than shine, than luminous, it was a full moon that called forth a wish: “please, Lord.” Retracted. No myth, no magic, no hope. What is required is that flown bird called justice. Justice of the actual sort, the timely sort, the justice that deals in truths and consequences, in immediacy and right action.
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Obituary, 9/16/14
Posted on September 6, 2014
Obituary, 9/16/14
She was found early the next day – it is not yet known if she was taken to the morgue or to the emergency room. There was no identification, no belongings. But someone noticed a dog hiding nearby and coaxed him, finally, to come near. He has been taken to the animal shelter. His microchip contained her identification.
Yes, she had taken the required action: the Ford Escape was delivered to Del Norte Credit Union at 2 p.m. Dirty, but empty of all belongings, she handed over the keys and told them “No”, no payment of $3000 was possible. Dirty was what they deserved, but there had been no money to clean the car but once in 13 months of homelessness. A winter of two corgis shedding, the older dog with continence issues. Dirty was what they deserved, the possibility of grossness confirming all stereotypes of homelessness. Live the stereotype and shrink to its size, its projected limits. That was her experience in public, at aid offices, with legal services. Homelessness is Being itself, who you are, your history, your future. She had been homeless since August 16, 2013, a year and one month…when she was found early the next day, September 16, 2014. As I type that it occurs to me that is the date of her son’s birth.
The other dog died when the stroller was dumped over and the bags taken – perhaps from the fall, or maybe kicked. There were odds and ends spread around – those free dog poop bags they have at the Railyard Park, 2 Starbucks tasting cups, a pair of glasses, a scattering of dry dog food, a venti-sized plastic cup that held water for the corgis. The missing bags, assumed to be the reason for the attack: her purse and laptop. But we know there was no money. If the police are on top of it, the EBT card funds will be blocked. There was a book, too.
The dogs, corgis. Show dogs. Well-bred, well-trained. Devoted to her, and she to them. She had a routine for the tourists, the groupies who always asked if they could pet them, take their photo. Oh, that Cooper was the great nephew, Windy the great aunt and the mom of the 2005 Westminster winner. That the stroller was Windy’s convertible with the top down, a gift from a friend. Occasionally, the tourist would be delighted that she had seen the corgis on her previous trip, sometimes asking “Didn’t you have three?” Yes. Before Cooper there had been Harper. And Rsï. Dancer, the grandmother of them all, arriving in Santa Fe with Freedom, the Golden Retriever. For the children, always the history lesson of why corgis are short – not small, short for a reason: not to get kicked in the head by the cows; no tail to be stepped on; big hearts so they could run all day; smart, accumulating vocabulary their whole lives and knowing when it’s time for 10 am cookies and 3 pm chews. Another song and dance was that the city should give them a stipend for entertaining the tourists, for being the most photographed dogs in Santa Fe. Etc. Corgis are like that: love magnets.
They were seen at WholeFoods mid-afternoon and later at the Railyard Park. Facebook posts suggest they may have also made it to Starbucks before returning to WholeFoods where they sat on the patio until closing time. The security guard kindly told her they had to leave.
Injuries: severe disillusionment with the legal system that was to provide access to the courts – instead, fraud by the very lawyer who originally represented her, by others who cashed her checks and refused further communication, by legal organizations dedicated to civil rights, and the state law school; abuse by fraud on every item of the decree by the ex-husband, Greg Phillips, MD; disappointment that her son and daughter could not read the decree and acknowledge that no item of the legal document had been fulfilled. Less severe injuries, but no less disappointing, were the street-level insights of the “enchanted” stratifications and failures of communitas in the place she had returned to with her children and put so many efforts toward inclusion and contribution. She found no whole cloth woven of diversity and difference, of dissensus and respect, of creative equality and critical thought. The slow revelation: Santa Fe is a tourist destination as cover-up for a nuclear colony, a “not s’posed to see” virus that requires the hard knock to recover from.
A hard knock it was, and the trauma of fear her broken heart could not withstand…too many months alone, too many cold nights sleeping upright in the car, too many hot days seeking shade for the corgis. Please remember though, he, too, was ill-served by what is termed “services” by a neoliberal-tainted justification of “doing good”. [But there is no forgiveness for what was done to Windy. Her last effort was to try to crawl to her very own person, to take care of her.]
The book…there was a bag of books protected in a ziplock bag and tucked in the mesh shelf under the stroller: The Funambulist Pamphlet Vol. 8: Arakawa + Madeline Gins; Jason M. Adam’s Occupy Time; the conversation with J-L Nancy: Being With the Without; Jacques Rancière’s The Politics of Aesthetics. But the book she was reading, that has helped in the last weeks, was on the laptop, a download from Punctum, Itinerant Philosophy, on the work of Alphonso Lingis. He was her first philosopher, her guide still today by following his path through his work, his translations, his philosophical con-versings with Emmanuel Levinas and Jean-Luc Nancy. A quote from the book for those who still don’t understand why she didn’t just give up, give in:
Itinerant Philosophy, p. 118
Lingis makes a fundamental distinction between the rational community
and the community of those who have nothing in common. As he says:
Anyone who thinks we are only emitting noise is the one who
does not want to listen. The one who understands is not extracting
the abstract form out of the tone, the rhythm, and the cadences —
the noise internal to the utterance, the cacophony internal to the
emission of the message. He or she is also listening to that internal
noise — the rasping or smouldering breath, the hyperventilating or
somnolent lungs, the rumblings and internal echoes—in which the
message is particularized and materialized and in which the
empirical reality of something indefinitely discernible, encountered
in the path of one’s own life, is referred to and communicated. 10
10 Lingis, The Community of Those Who Have Nothing in Common,
p. 91.
And more crucial, across philosophical influences of Lingis, Levinas, Nancy, Critchley, from pp. 71-71:
It’s this imperative that founds the subject not as “subject of
sensuous enjoyment” but as “subjected to an imperative.” This is
the subject of hetero-affectivity, the subject as constituted in
subjection, in assujettissement: “the position of being an
agent does not arise in the midst of sensuous enjoyment. . . . We have
argued that being-in-a-world . . . presupposes subjection to an
imperative” (Lingis 1986: 111). Which is to say that we are commanded
to be free: “the freedom of [the] agent is not given in a
primitive intuition independent of the world or [independent] of the
imperative that requires a world” (Lingis 1986: 112).
What does it matter? This is just an obituary: one is born, lives, dies in a particular cultural milieu, to a particular family, to circumstances that are common to a location and power structure. Need we say, too, born to particular mythologies with their own sleight of hand justifications for power abuses and other human failures? Certainly that is what “law” has come to: law in service to those who are licensed to justify law to their personal benefit. Every shared crisis in the world today is made possible and maintained by those who enact “law” whether we examine the slow clean up of the BP Gulf disaster, the growing crisis of contamination of limited water resources by the fracking process, compromise of farm land for generations to come by pesticide use and genetically modified seed. Easiest is the ongoing daily abuse of those who believed the myths they were taught, who lived and worked for the mythic good that obscured the manipulations and abuses of daily existence. With abuses, a child accepts the shame as his/her own and tries harder. With reward, an empowerment to inflict on others, a defensive response to the confusions of false realities and skewed consequences. But what does it matter? This is just an obituary: she didn’t survive his abuse, the abuse of a dozen lawyers, the neglect of legal aid, a system that serves itself.
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A possibility…please help.
Posted on September 5, 2014
ExtraSpace wants me out rather than missing payments and auctioning off the contents of the 5 units. So, minimum fees if I pay and can get out in 24 hours. I called the mover who has moved me three times now, and he’s willing to do the work this weekend. First problem, paying the approximate $1500 (I don’t know the total with late fees yet) for August. Then, as big a problem, having a place to move everything to. I’ve e-mailed local people asking for help finding an empty commercial space, a for sale home that needs furniture, or low cost housing. And, if something is found, I have no funds to pay for it either. Panic time. I’m wearing so thin. Please, please help.
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To stay in the fight…
Posted on September 1, 2014
I initially opened the page on day 315 of homelessness, but didn’t post anywhere…just felt so conflicted about such a thing. But posted at FB yesterday – day 382 – asking for feedback…3 people contributed so swallowing my pride in gratitude. As it stands right now, I lose the car and all my belongings in 2 weeks unless I can pay the bills. After a year and a month, I have no more resources other than an EBT card. Even internet is limited in that WF and SBux cards required. Last night the corgis wouldn’t come in the house…still waiting for the evening chew that I didn’t have for them. Everything is on the edge…if I were called for an interview, nothing to wear other than rags. To lose my books, the personal memories and spacings of life, the practical that I’ll not have the means to replace without legal representation: it is the pathology of an-other who has determined that I hold no value, no personhood, no access to agency. To hold on a few more months, to move forward toward legal representation and justice – all I can hope for.
https://www.crowdrise.com/sheridanphillips
Posts from notes that didn’t get posted, a catch-up…
Posted on August 26, 2014
8/18
Went to one of the storage locations to collect my sleeping pad and duvet that saved me last winter…was denied access. Two more days of dog food, half tank of gas. No email from *** Clinical Law and have had so much trouble getting online that I haven’t written again – hope to check that off the list tonight. I’m hoping I’ve just had 1) too many windows open and 2) that the chronic cloudiness at public spots (WF & SBux) is what is keeping the wheel spinning – and not a needed repair. Big poopy mess in the house this morning – stress on corgis, too. Only one more day/fluids on SBux Sam card. And truly seeing no way forward. Yes, went through all job ads on Sunday, reviewed again yesterday. Nothing that makes sense. And would be interviewing in rags. And…why? Close to losing everything. Besides having no money, buy staples like a mixer? my cookbooks? People who say it doesn’t matter haven’t thought the logistics through. Not just
losing my hope and work, that is, my books, but practical life, too…things that cost money and are practical living tools. It’s been interesting…several essays lately on the compliance to capitalist / religious thinking, the No submission to “giving up” as holiness.
8/20
Storage is locked down, and no word from Prof **** at *** Clinical Law. No idea what to do next. I should be at least getting continued alimony UNTIL the lump sum from his retirement plan is paid – as it seems to me. That would allow me to pay storage while I look for a place to live and continue to try to get to court (and look for work). It appears frivolous to compare my situation to Palestine or to Ferguson, but the lawlessness of the “Law” and the privilege of [corporate-paid] power is similar. I’m not seeing any hope for change, for getting to court at all.
Day 5 of hunger strike. Continued until storage is safe, until there is a legal response. Did no good before (215 days), but I have no future other than bare life of poverty, no dignity, no safety, nothing. Many people in similar situations: I don’t accept it.
And absolutely no money. Probably can pay phone, but not one monthly insurance, car, gas, catch up on the Astilli storage (1 month behind), or pay storage. The end. Several people have mentioned setting up a donation page, but I can’t do it. I’ve already beggared myself to utter humiliation. And no one else who has mentioned it has offered. Will e-mail lawyer one more time…don’t know if the case is being considered, or ignored. And likely will receive the same message as from all the others.
8/22
Grateful today that a sack of dog food is to arrive from Amazon. Should last 32-36 days – appreciate it so much, friend. The corgis have saved me time and again…we take care of each other.
Today’s visit to ExtraSpace storage: Entrance Denied
Sent a last email to *** Clinical Law. I have no more means. After friends managed this month’s car payment, here it is looming again in ten days (with 2 week leeway). A month late paying Astilli Art Storage, and 5 units at ExtraSpace are in lock down. A monthly insurance bill. Phone. Mail box for 3 months is coming due. And still, the bill at SFTails. I’m a year’s worth of threadbare bare, worn, empty, exhausted. With only a quarter tank of gas. By accepted standards, marketed standards, a failure. By religious standards, faithless, non-compliant, sinful. By social issue standards, lazy, moocher.
8/23
I am so sad to understand how naive, trusting, and blind I’ve been to how badly the whole legal system stinks. I’ve been had on the divorce situation from day 1. Here I am now, after fighting it for years, still with absolutely nothing. As a white lady denied legal representation I have no cachet at all – not black, brown, gay, trans, etc… It’s not a material girl thing. Yes, I love my things, NEED my things, but to have no value, no rights…no, won’t survive it. Don’t even care to give validity to such a system by only “surviving”.
8/25
Day 10. Missed a job posting on the 22nd, e-mailed résumé last night, references in today – and the rare acknowledgement that I had done so. A go-fer job, organizational list maker and basket emptier. But applied and will know something by the end of the week. Absolutely nothing to wear to an interview. Not even shoes. Another call about the storage units – lock down on the last three mid-week. And car payment due in 5 days, repossession in 2 weeks. An OSF friend I hadn’t seen in a year gave me the cash in his pocket…grateful to be able to get $12 of gas tomorrow.
Windy is having more difficulty getting around, more accidents. But still alert, smiling, responsive. The ethical question of what to do once the car is gone…rather, before the car is gone. She can’t run away from any “situation”. Nor would anyone want a leaky dog.
I looked at my back in a mirror. The difference in one side and the other matches up with the pain I’m in. Likewise with my swollen tongue. But no sense now to make an appointment. Game’s over.
8/26
I have failed.
Finally! I have succeeded in being who I am,
Already no-thing, in this old woods in which
I shall, since I only have value in offering myself up,
Easily start a fire from a spark
Fernando Pessoa
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A RANT…with no apologies.
Posted on August 26, 2014
You’ve broken me with blame. The facade of care and support, but always the implication of my failure: just by my neediness, asking for help, not socially acceptable to the unseen assumption of “work ethic” with its companion of submission as pathway to holiness. Weighted one against the other in conservative / liberal divide of “get a job” / “your attachment to material goods is the problem”, no interest in the legal / justice / fraud / abuse issues. Or the who? how? why now? questions. And now I wouldn’t, won’t fight that battle. See clearly the depth of the trap across the spectrum of contemporary political and environmental crises. It’s not at all grandiose, but merely convenient, to have the siege of Palestine as comparative example: the original lies and subterfuge of holy mission equally attractive to those whose racism could be salved by the financial benefits of the geography. That “work ethic” of loss to the Palestinians as Israel steals and builds in submission to the rights that come with being Chosen. The conservative / liberal divide agrees, or perhaps simply – stupidly – can’t grasp the criminalization of “attachment” of the unChosen to their legal rights to life, freedom, dignity, as well as their homes and the necessities of family life. Those who are offended please congratulate yourselves for your better choices, higher calling, the humility of your greater success, and the rightness of each and every compromise you’ve ever made.
http://simongros.com/text/articles/mladen-dolar/brechts-gesture/
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8/18…
Posted on August 26, 2014
Last week was rough. Dog food crisis. My birthday on Tuesday. One year homelessness on Friday. First day of renewed hunger strike today.
Moping at FB, E.K. responded with an invitation to birthday brunch at my favorite restaurant, Pasqual’s. Very nice day introducing E.K. to the Plaza, and the corgis being the photographic favorite of dozens of tourists. FB friend saved the day and ordered dog food at Teca Tu – so appreciative. But some snarks about being down, I guess forgetting that being homeless and living in precarity for a year is a wee bit stressful…and especially so when it’s not the legal issue du jour. When one finally realizes that law is written to protect lawyers, and standard protocol serves to protect lawyer from lawyer.
Add to all that, top it all off, I wasn’t in Saas-Fee. Not in June, not in August. No climb up the mountain, no congratulations on a successful defense, no reconnecting with a thinking community of friends. Nor can
I reach for a book, check a reference, follow a thought, write a review.
Each day, notice after notice from ExtraSpace storage. $666, $626 + late fees.
Another young man killed by police. More Palestinians hungry, thirsty, injured, dead. Black man in jail for 34 years without trial. White woman denied legal rights, legal representation for years.
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55 days of 215: FB posts from 2009 hunger strike
Posted on August 16, 2014
Hunger Strike posts
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Life: DENIED
Posted on August 10, 2014
5 days since last posting, difficult days – trying to come up with something to wear to a possible interview with St. John’s College, cleaning and prep for a showing of this house, the exhaustion of always being invisible in the public for internet access and always “on” for the many corgi admirers who take their photo and make the same joke about about Windy being spoiled for riding in the stroller: invisible but always tap dancing. Also an afternoon with an elderly woman who had asked me months ago why I was on my computer at the Mall. I told her, and she left, then returned in a few minutes, slipping me $20, “for dinner.” I had looked for her for a while, didn’t recognize her until she spoke. She’s 82 and simply overwhelmed with the required logistics of passwords, servers, and the differences between her iPad and the Apple laptop. We did get opera tickets ordered, and once the password problem is solved, another lesson.
The rejection e-mail from St. John’s arrived August 6th. As previous experience, as warned, pre-selected. Did not respond to Mr.* that he was full of shit. The federal law requiring posting jobs doesn’t mean anything at all. It was the only application that was acknowledged on receipt (I am an alumna) and the only actual rejection e-mail I’ve received. The other 6 applications were not acknowledged at all – 2 state, 2 newspaper, 2 museums. Really poor p.r. and at least one museum won’t see another membership from me. But behind me…see nothing new to consider yet.
Tomorrow. The first of the 3 storage rental payments due. The second due the 12th. No way. The third is Astilli, and I’m worried that I’m already behind there. I’ll go by Monday and check, apologize, find out what their policy is. ExtraSpace locks down, auctions off.
I sent another e-mail to the person in charge of the Clinical Law Program at UNM Law School and received in return the notice that the office will re-open on the 12th. Hope for, but do not expect a response.
Had this idea I’d celebrate my birthday, do the “normal” thing, a favorite thing – celebrate! And a friend offered to celebrate with me! Last year, my birthday in the middle of packing up the house in a rush, I finally took myself to Pasqual’s in September, sat at the community table, visited with several women, and had my favorite on the menu. One of the women added my meal to her tab, a birthday gift! Once I said out loud what I was hoping to do this birthday, it felt wrong. Other priorities. Must figure out a way to take care of Windy and Cooper first: bath and nails. Dignity and care and happy birthday shared between companions. We’ll still cruise the Plaza for an hour of $1 parking, entertain the tourists, and perhaps see a couple of people we know. The 12th. The 15th is one year homeless. Couldn’t have made it without them, their love and our responsibility for each other.
The 16th. Still standing. But no means other than legal representation: DENIED.
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Rilke…
Posted on August 5, 2014
The longer I live, the more urgent it seems to me to endure and transcribe the whole dictation of existence up to its end, for it might just be the case that only the very last sentence contains that small and possibly inconspicuous word through which everything we had struggled to learn and everything we had failed to understand will be transformed suddenly into magnificent sense.
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Last night…
Posted on August 5, 2014
How bad was it? Vic Chesnutt all evening. Stomach too upset to eat. Barely able to walk because of back pain. A cold and rainy day, everywhere we went the stroller had to be lifted out and opened, then lifted back in again. But corgis did get their roll in the grass, a stroll around the periphery at the Railyard Park, and their Puppy Latte at SBux. The last one on our card. We also made one loop of the Mall fulfilling the corgi mission of causing smiles on everyone who lays eyes on them. A grateful day, but not a happy one. It feels like my face is falling off in sadness, like my back is broken, like I can’t breathe, like half of my body has disappeared and the other is tied in painful knots. Like I can’t keep doing this. And “this” an inflicted death, not living the life that is mine, not dying my own death. So very tired.
But gratitude is its own energy, and I was moved to tears, grateful, for the love and support of two friends who sent Whole Foods gift cards. FRUIT!!! So rarely do I feel I can get some…splurged on a small box of figs! 2 bananas! And a box of almond milk so I can have an actual breakfast – oatmeal with banana and instant coffee – before leaving the house. Plus, not food but necessary, a couple of things for freshening the house of its closed-up smell along with any possible dog scent. Grateful not to be sitting out these crazy storms in the car, grateful to lie flat at night, grateful for a private shower…the kindness of another friend.
I keep checking the bank account…neither car payment nor insurance have yet been deducted. A double craziness of worry/gratitude now…and WTF in 30 days? Again? And in a week…lock-down? And still, still I hear I should give up, accept fate, move on, move along. Some holier position, apparently a “liberal” position, practical, realistic, and…feminine? Issues of justice, legal representation, fraud, abuse, and lies? Not so much. An inverted mythology? Don’t fight, just lie down and die. Or, maybe, it’s just that I’m not “worth it”…how uppity to think I have legal rights. Exhausted.
All I know now is to write again to the same organizations that have rejected my request of them for legal representation. Do you have any ideas? Do you know any actually-ethical lawyers? Other organizations who do legal work on behalf of women? Any individuals or organizations who offer life support for the interim of such cases? Any ideas? Anyone you know?
Threadbare jeans and knit top just out of the drier. Tomorrow, the brown jeans with large rip at the knee, brown tank with hole, and the truly falling apart hoodie – for two days. Repeat. Almost out of detergent. Same shoes everyday. And if I’m called for an interview? So tired.
Lonely.
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equaliberty…
Posted on August 4, 2014
My birthday is in eight days. The 12th. A $25 bill will drop from the sky, and I will go to Pasqual’s for brunch, sit at the community table, leave with a little bag with 2 Dellas. Then Cooper and I will wheel Windy around the Plaza, have their photo taken by the tourists, visit a few favorite shops to say hello. It’ll be sunny, but cool. I’ll stand up tall, not be in back pain.
A mother does not give up the security of a home for her children by choice. A student doesn’t choose to take on $100,000 in school debt when it was decreed to be paid at a much lower rate as tuition was due – unless forced to. A woman with a broken arm, back pain, and two dogs does not choose to live in her car in the cold of winter, the heat of summer. Or go without food to buy 3 gallons of gas or pay for a $2 public shower. It was an abusive marriage; divorce has been even more punishing.
Because I have been denied legal representation for many years and also had my correspondence requesting information on representing myself ignored by the judge, on August 16th I begin the second hunger strike of this long ordeal. The 16th marks one year of homelessness. It is also the day the second storage unit fee is due. The beginning of the end if “the siege” does not end, if my life is never to be my own, if there is no justice to be had in Texas. Documents, e-mails, names, and official correspondence will be posted here.
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yesterday…8/2
Posted on August 3, 2014
Survived the day… I was so confused as to what money I might have – the safe deposit box rental being deducted and worrying so much about the car payment. Paypal was amazing for getting several gifts deposited sooner than scheduled. After an hour or so at Whole Foods – no purchase so anxiety even higher – we drove the few blocks to Del Norte Credit Union and wrote the check. You know who you are…so grateful to those who help keep me upright and hopeful for sanity. The monthly health insurance will be deducted on Monday, and the phone bill to be paid before Wednesday. It’s a week until the first storage unit is due, ten days until the second. And the piano/art storage…I have to ask how far behind I am.
But I am sitting in bed, a firm bed. A roof and a locked door. Satisfied corgis. Instant coffee in the morning, half sandwich for lunch. The plan now is to cruise the Farmers Market as a social outing for Windy and Cooper, check e-mail at WholeFoods, and be at a pro-Palestine demonstration at Udall’s office at 2. I didn’t hear from our host today – hoping they didn’t have travel issues.
The money is gone. Every cent. Even the safety net of food stamps is fractured by the last two months being deposited late and not being able to space out my needs. When it should have been deposited today, it could be three weeks until it’s available based on the two previous deposit delays. I’m hoping there have been complaints and Chase is forced to return to a first of the month deposit. Don’t know how families survived the scam. For me, the problem is food and gas and their relation to internet access…
But the challenge, though possibly a waste of time, is to prepare for the possibility of a job interview. No reason to expect such, but at least, for the first time, the résumé was acknowledged. The position requires organizing for public events…showing up in my rags, literally full of holes, won’t contribute confidence in my ability to represent the college. So, grovel and/or borrow. Perhaps credit for a pair of shoes. For a haircut.
Nuts and bolts of survival. I can drive about 40 more miles. Must figure out the next bag of dog food. The corgis really need to have their nails trimmed, at least their nails, even if not a bath. The car…if it’s repossessed, aromatic justice.
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348…
Posted on July 29, 2014
Yesterday so touched, so rejuvenated by the face of the other, called forth to withness – ah, I know you know your Levinas and Nancy, so I’ll hush. But had a bit more energy, did my best to stand tall and walked to the dining room where there’s a large mirror. Standing “tall”, I’m bent and broken, with stress belly, head forward, left shoulder higher, right arm a bit off, frown lines, in need of a hair cut and, out of sight, the constant back pain. A mess. I had felt so centered there for a bit that I was thinking radical thoughts like…diet…exercise…posture…dentist. Radical like haircut and size 6, sit-ups and new shoes. Mirror on the wall said, “What a mess!”
…a better day
Posted on July 28, 2014
The storm let up a bit, and ‘chemically sensitive’ woman was haranguing one of the cleaning staff for mopping the floor with something she could smell. Her food long gone, she was demanding, “how can I eat with that smell in here?” His explanation of it being the scheduled cleaning time inadequate to her importance, I cringed at her uppityness endangering our – three of us still in the WF eating area – internet access at 9:45 pm. Access from 7:30 am until 10 pm, the only place for me, and the man who arrives earlier than I do, at that time of night. Time for me to go…I put my hand into my pocket and find 2 dog chews instead of the keys. So, Win and Coop, in the car, big storm, and without the distraction of their evening chew, I felt badly, packed up, and was grateful that the lights flash when clicking to unlock the car. Enough on my mind without panicking that “they” had already come for it! – yeah, dumb. Yeah, dumb…gotta just keep moving, deal with it. So, balancing, unlocking, unloading, greeting, and the always silent phone rings. Rings? A new voice, but familiar. Maybe that blue hue? A kind voice with kind words that forms the essential face that performs the essential act: calling forth. 35 minutes, 50 seconds of withness and care. Yeah! Called forth to happy! cared for! questioned! con-versed! Speaking with the other for reals! Like water for a big thirst and, even in the dark, not invisible. Nor guilty. Not chastised. A late call with intent to be with, its own fulfillment, full circle, a sweet fix for the lonely of the past week of disappearing faces, posts. I’m still smiling. Both corgis settled in now, and I will sleep un-lonely.
***
The car payment is withdrawn on the 27th, so now the waiting game of what the process is – by phone or by mail? Immediate turn over or a new deadline for payment? Multiple level threats? A protocol of shame or business as usual? – btw, you owe us an extra $3000.00 for our trouble.
♥ ♥ ♥
WholeFoods with internet issues…couldn’t get online. And have a résumé to St. John’s to send off. We are at Sanbusco…finally could open e-mail…two gifts. Thank you. Thank you so much. I think the plan, then, is to tell Del Norte Credit Union that I’m waiting on PayPal deposits. Maybe there’ll be a late fee. And still $100 short on the $485, but a plan, a hope. A bit of breathing space. Thank you, ♥ ♥ ♥
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346
Posted on July 27, 2014
Once I buy frozen rice and almond milk tomorrow, $12 on EBT with the next deposit arriving – if Chase doesn’t delay an extra week again as in the past 2 months – on the 15th. Or, maybe, don’t buy those items, but electrolytes. SBux card, $3.29, 1 more ice tea. All but one bank account down to the $5 minimum. $1 bill, $2.56 in quarters and pennies – actually, that’s enough for 1 gallon of gas…the task being to be able to drive to
Del Norte Credit Union, whether they can drive it away or not. Which is a reminder of the necessity of taking everything in the car to storage. Say good bye to it. Because the stroller – and me – will already be stretched to the limit with laptop, purse, water, dog food bag: August 1.
Which is only to share – and every story has its particulars – a process of homelessness. I’ve watched for years, donated food and clothing, and then had the boots-on-the ground experience of Occupy, the camp being located a short walk from a men’s homeless shelter. Counseling practice and also the necessity of being alpha-bitch to 5 corgis over the years helped deal with survival games of long-term street survivors. I was also aware that the lauded services didn’t suit in some manner the needs of many of the homeless. If you look – I saw so much – there are camps all over…there is a logic that will point the way, show you where to look. And also signs – the clothing left along the river, the rolled blanket beneath a bush, the makeshift tent in the arroyo. Behind Motel 6 is a huge pile of grocery
carts. And the dogs…especially young dogs.
Then education and class differences. “We” sit at Whole Foods with our laptops and still may have cars. Or camp out the day on the Starbucks patio. In the early hours, the difference shows by who hurries to the rest room before ordering coffee. If you’re not sure, buy an extra cold drink midday, set it on the flat top part of the trash can. Or leave change on your table. It will be appreciated.
A man I’ve seen often enough over the past few years to nod to, but had never spoken with, walked up to me in Whole Foods about 3 days ago and asked, “You’re living in your car?” Well, shit. Yeah, I’m there a lot. And I don’t always look so great. And, damn, he scooted away before I could return the question – it left me wondering about him. Likewise, or – could he be an undercover kind of guy, just keeping an eye on an area with lots of tourists?
It’s beautiful here now – summer especially and September and October even more so. But summer is tourist season, the full-out focus on the tableaux of Enchantment, whether Indian, Mexican, or Wealthy, each denomination in full regalia of its capitalist marketing form and promoting its latest regression of style. For all the burdens of 346 days, I am called forth by the wide horizon and the scented breeze each morning…a moment before the full crush of disillusionment in my personal life and the more general despair of being a member of a failed species. My entire adult life has been lived in a framework of fraud. Fraud of the most personal nature…with a trick attached, a no-no of revelation. And fraud in full illegal paradox, that is, the privilege of lawyers to organize fraud as a tipping system. Want to know their names? His name? You’d have to promise to introduce yourself to them/him, deliver a message. Condolences on losing his punching bag? Or, perhaps, congratulations on such a successful fraud.
Just seems – and I’m not being woo-woo here – that the thing called waking up, or enlightenment, or revelation would be a logical step. Just a step, an AHA!!! or, to be contemporary and common: LOL!!! As in, how many more scenes of absolute stupidity do we need before we get it? I sort of got it when I realized, in part, the extent of the financial lies, but even that had the overlay of a really stupid and obvious affair. So, after “getting it”, I still thought I’d really, actually, truly be divorced from the important Dr. P.? Without the same ol’ lies and manipulations. Slow learner. Never got to the LOL!!! part…only to the street, sleeping in the car, my own EBT card.
No, I don’t want to die. I would like to recover my health, my good posture, my healthy weight and muscle tone – not die. I would like to read, write, dance. And look into your face, hear your voice. Not die by being beaten and robbed. Nor by dehydration and heat. Or by my spirit being shattered by a final and crushing compromise. Because one more compromise is exactly that: final. The personal nature of what is “one’s own” cannot be finally exhausted by fraud and there still be breath. If I survive the first night on the street with stroller, corgis, purse, laptop, and bag of dog food, I won’t survive the sunrise on the day of loss of both history and future, of art and the serviceable, of the practicalities of living with small dignities and pleasures of one’s own history and the daily future of the sunrise on a wide horizon. There is no compromise there. That idea rooted in the religions of submission, or, as we see too often, in politics – what passes as politics, but again, and again, is a process of fraud. I refuse that compliance. And I call you out on your own in advance of every argument proffered for compromise, giving up, of the critique of being too attached to the material or too insecure to be “free.” On my side, full support, Balibar: equaliberty. And those lawyers may rot in whatever hell they create for themselves as well as Greg for the history he denied as he inflicted it on every person who came near. I refuse the standard compromise. Death it may be, but not a compromised life. Not one more day.
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345 days
Posted on July 26, 2014
345 days, nights, summer, fall, winter, spring, summer…a shattered elbow, surgery, 5 pins, hand pain and numbness…2 pair of jeans, 1 pair sweat pants, 2 hoodies, 4 tanks…1 hair cut, 2 pair boots…gifts of warm hoodie, coat, scarf…gift cards for food, internet access, and entry to services early in the morning…grateful and humbled at support, kindness… flashing lights and the knock on the window…feather pillow against the door to keep warm…edit, Arab Nations Water Report…invisible…back pain, $2 public showers, chipped front tooth, jeans now with big holes…EBT…loneliness…grieving for books, bed, baskets…foot pain from the same shoes day after day…isolation…computer memory overfilled with months of readings not printed…back pain, tooth pain, hand pain…Windy now in stroller…now must sit up to sleep in car…back pain…gait and posture issues
…no $2 for showers or $20 for gas…no place to cook what can be bought with EBT…no payment for piano storage and portraits…days measured in miles to WF, amount on EBT, hours I can sit, computer battery life, patience of corgis, whether the gas warning light has come on…the shared joy of puppy lattes at SBux and the kindness of the staff…brown skin, wrinkles of sadness, never crying…not one hug in all these months…not one acknowledgement to any over-qualified résumé submitted…2 responses to an e-mail sent locally to 18 people I’ve worked with on community projects…corgi groupies to entertain, our public service…the heat, we are having more troubles and danger with the summer heat than with the winter cold…low on food and dog dental chews, EBT, and…options… one more application ready as soon as I hear from 2 references…quarters for 2.9 gallons of gas…EGS begins again without me…I am very tired…
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*Ressentiment*
Posted on July 24, 2014
In At the Mind’s Limit, Jean Améry’s ressentiment is not the resentment we know in English, nor of anything like revenge. Ressentiment is to act at the edge of dignity itself, an assertion of one’s humanity and self-determination.
For ressentiment to fester, the person who thinks himself wronged has to be burdened with some sense of powerlessness, social disregard, or marginalization; he must feel a premonition that his protest will not be acknowledged or that the moral standing of his stance will not be recognized.”
Thomas Brudholm in Resentment’s Virtue: Jean Améry and the Refusal toForgive. 2008. p. 98.
December 1, 2009
4:20 pm
Greg:
Too cold to walk the hour and ten minutes. Will take the last $25 out for a cab back. If one ever arrives; the dispatcher doesn’t even recognize the neighborhood. First of the month it’s always hard to get a cab.
Your birthday. Was it a happier day knowing you hadn’t made an automatic payment? What is your pronouncement about that? But you know, no one cares. You are an identity, not a subject or person. The hollow man without ethical imperative.
I am mailing my last letter to each of the children today.
Many returns of the day, Greg. My wish for you is that you live forever. With perfect recall of all you have lost.
No, you are not forgiven for what you have done. None of it. Because you did have a choice.
Sheridan
Day 173
There was no cab. It’s 33*. Fuck you. Forever. You are a liar, a cheat, and a thief.
Day 174
(The day count refers to a hunger strike during a time of no car – as provided by the decree.)
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Farewell ~ Agha Shahid Ali
Posted on July 24, 2014
Posted to me by a friend with a sense of the Wall I’ve lived in the shadow of – the abuse done to a child that raged on through all his years. I loved you, my sin I could never correct.
FAREWELL
At a certain point I lost track of you.
They make a desolation and call it peace.
when you left even the stones were buried:
the defenceless would have no weapons.
When the ibex rubs itself against the rocks,
who collects its fallen fleece from the slopes?
O Weaver whose seams perfectly vanished,
who weighs the hairs on the jeweller’s balance?
They make a desolation and call it peace.
Who is the guardian tonight of the Gates of Paradise?
My memory is again in the way of your history.
Army convoys all night like desert caravans:
In the smoking oil of dimmed headlights, time dissolved- all
winter- its crushed fennel.
We can’t ask them: Are you done with the world?
In the lake the arms of temples and mosques are locked in each other’s
reflections.
Have you soaked saffron to pour on them when they are found like this
centuries later in this country
I have stitched to your shadow?
In this country we step out with doors in our arms
Children run out with windows in their arms.
You drag it behind you in lit corridors.
if the switch is pulled you will be torn from everything.
At a certain point I lost track of you.
You needed me. You needed to perfect me.
In your absence you polished me into the Enemy.
Your history gets in the way of my memory.
I am everything you lost. You can’t forgive me.
I am everything you lost. Your perfect Enemy.
Your memory gets in the way of my memory:
I am being rowed through Paradise in a river of Hell:
Exquisite ghost, it is night.
The paddle is a heart; it breaks the porcelain waves.
It is still night. The paddle is a lotus.
I am rowed- as it withers-toward the breeze which is soft as
if it had pity on me.
If only somehow you could have been mine, what wouldn’t
have happened in the world?
I’m everything you lost. You won’t forgive me.
My memory keeps getting in the way of your history.
There is nothing to forgive.You can’t forgive me.
I hid my pain even from myself; I revealed my pain only to myself.
There is everything to forgive. You can’t forgive me.
If only somehow you could have been mine,
what would not have been possible in the world?
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First day of the 12th month, July 16, 2014
Posted on July 20, 2014
335 days homeless
Crazy day even before opening my eyes. No internet, no incoming mail, outgoing mail disappearing…isolation feeling complete, absolute, and…intentional? Just couldn’t understand what was happening. Three days of imposition at DotFoil, two of the guys not pleased to see me and friend, Tim Deneen, at other tasks. One of the guys “broke through” the impasse by setting the computer up for iCloud. Yuk. I could see a few e-mails, but still had no affirmation that an important one had been sent, or even if it was still on the computer.
The thing, for me, was iCloud. When it first came out, I opted out. I hadn’t understood yet that it is not optional. [Fuck Apple. One of the young techs failed politics 101 when he told me, “Well, if you’re not doing something you shouldn’t online, you have nothing to worry about.” I learned about that rationale several years ago, pre-Occupy, when, just before Thanksgiving – the busiest shopping weekend of the year – I called for a national strike. Within 30 minutes my phone noted that it had been “reconfigured.” Etcetera…] Cleaned out the bank with the $20 payment to Apple for more storage space.
The 16th. The beginning of the 12th month. Months of the uncomfortable present and an absent future resting on an abusive past…ongoing. Still, daily…until death do us part? Please don’t tell any child to “Be good.” I was so good. And believed in the “good” that served other people, other objectives quite well. Don’t do that. Be the example that teaches instead to question, to think critically, to take steps of agency and of communitas.
I was dumb. Very good, very naïve. And even as it began to dawn on me, when some of the strange things began to make sense, still there was that commitment to “goodness” and the belief that good would prevail. Again…etcetera… Part of this experience, part of the political processing, part of a conversation with a FB friend who is working on the topic in a book on religion.
The 16th. I left Dotfoil both relieved and distraught. But can’t cry…won’t cry…how to acknowledge such an anniversary? On the right, the old shopping strip with a Trader Joe’s. Celebrate…breakfast actually, with the coffee and cheese samples! But pushed the cart around wishing I could get the corgis their favorite treat and ended up with 4 avocados and a big box of organic cherry tomatoes for less than at WF. 11 months and one day…and I’m on food stamps.
Later, at Whole Foods to be online, Bruce called. May have my days confused, but Bruce called. High school crush and our families were friends. El Zona del Canal, his family made Panama an adventure because they were missionaries: trips to the interior, the jungle, the language, the food – off and on adventures over the years and a sociality that would have been missing with my conservative and rather shy parents. Bruce called. That in itself is so much. But he was calling to tell me that he would speak to a friend who might be a legal resource. The reaching out, the thought, the being-with, so touched on a hard day.
And the rest? do I remember? Tough day and it feels, always, that I’m both running to catch up and have absolutely no place to be. Emails came through, the usual news sites and ads. But no friends. A lonely day. Would not have made it this far without FB, without the faces of the others, without the care and concern. But a day alone.
Yesterday, the 17th. Really hate to be missing the Event in Grand Rapids. To be there and, also, to have been there to support Jason and Creston. To hear and see Alain again, the resonance of voice and the particular characteristics of thinking as expressed on his face and in his presence. After time at Whole Foods online, we went to Sanbusco, and I asked the writer, James Bonner, to take photos of the 14k and turquoise cross so I could post to FB. It’s the only thing I can think of to sell that would cover the car payment. I paid about $1000 a dozen or so years ago. Gold goes up and down, no idea how things have fluctuated, or how to evaluate it myself, but the first visit to a re-sell jewelry shop the owner suggested $985, 50/50. Second trip, perhaps more desperate, she said $600, 50/50. If someone has a relative or friend for whom a cross would be appreciated, it is gorgeous. And a nice size – think it’s posted at FB, but I’m not remembering now. $500 would cover the car payment @ $485 and maybe cover postage.
This house is a bit far out, and I worry about part of the drive, but I’m safe and have a firm bed to sleep on, a shower, refrigerator, microwave, and a lovely fenced area for the corgis. I am grateful.
The 18th. A call mid-morning from the real estate agent saying there’d be a showing. So, everything put away, wiped, tidied, and we were out of here. The corgis and I sat on the Whole Foods porch for several hours for internet time, correspondence mostly, but still did not review and adjust the resume for another application. Tomorrow. The process is discouraging…so few positions and no acknowledgement to date of any application I’ve submitted. Seems so rude and such bad public relations. I’m returning tonight…because I’m lonely, because perhaps a friend has posted at FB…returning to Whole Foods to post this and to send the job description to three local friends who might consider writing a recommendation.
http://www.sjc.edu/santa-fe/human-resources/santa-fe-jobs/
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11 Months: July 15, 2014
Posted on July 20, 2014
EBT. I am the grateful possessor of two bananas and one apple. A container of organic almond milk, half a dozen eggs, packages of frozen organic brown rice and mixed vegetables, a jar of organic instant coffee, 2 bottles of Lemonade&Tea – on sale, and 2 boxes of organic wheat crackers, also on sale. Missing is the organic cocoa mix for the mocha morning treat, sold-out. I stopped by the Farmers Market and paid $10 EBT for $20 in wooden coins to be spent at the market – just for eggs, I think, since there are no pans here for anything fancier than the microwaved rice/vegetables/egg I had tonight. And I still have a container of oatmeal that I have uncooked with almond milk. EBT can’t get me through the month, nor does it pay for anything prepared that buys internet time – but so grateful to have it. Tricky though…nothing prepared means no salads or vegetables, hot soups, the daily lunch special, or anything from the hot bar or take-out. Reasonable, mostly, if the person qualifying for EBT actually has a working kitchen. Then…from “old stock”…that box of 2012 Christmas truffles, sun-melted and night-cooled solid, sliced for dessert.
And grateful for the reaching out of an-other, hand-to-hand, the person who had the listing for our first rental in Santa Fe 20+ years ago, the gift of much needed cash for gas. Sat there in stunned gratitude for the cure to the ongoing worry…the means to get back and forth to our temporary roof. Thank you…
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312.
Posted on July 8, 2014
I stopped by one of the storage units, the last one moved into. Found the shampoo I hoped to locate, as well as a few other necessities. Being last, one corner was organized to be a little writing office – the reclaimed frosted plexiglass podium for desk, a half dozen large white boards with book/paper outlines on them, the last books out of the house…but the unit too full, too crowded to quite get to those things. But so many little necessities I haven’t had to buy, wouldn’t have to buy for quite a while…if I still have access in a week. I didn’t find the dog cookies I thought were there and went to another storage unit…there, in frosted plastic boxes, the sight of copper cookie cutters, measuring cups, specialty tools – yes. It is ok that I claim those things, that they mean something to me, that I have the right to use them again…before they go to another. Each day…con-verse with others, cheer them, show interest and care, share corgi-love…and at the end of the day, still, I am as though run over, beat up, empty of face-time reciprocity. A lonely place. A beautiful place. Any and every place. I want to go home.
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Sitting at a drive-in
Posted on June 30, 2014
Sitting at a drive-in SBux because of cool outdoor shade for Windy and Cooper…half of my $5 bill for iced tea, but they also got their special treat of a “puppy latte” – a tiny cup of whipped cream. Makes it worth it to sit here, on cool stone, and watch people come and go. Just no place for the three of us to be in such heat. Sanbusco Mall hasn’t been as welcoming…customer and friend there for years, but the “homeless” prejudice seems to have kicked in – I should have solved my situation already…just one more failure and public moocher. Even as business is hurting because of the economy, both local and tourism because of unemployment and increased costs. Beyond an initial reaction, a sense of community has not shown itself. Most disappointing has been the absence of community among the “former” – no longer – Occupy participants. Always a learning curve there to move beyond in-state provincialisms reinforced in a not-s’posed-to-know nuclear colony, but I did think a small core evolved to be ready for “next steps” and in camaraderie…no. Not even for the last legislative session or the current revelations of fraud by the Gov and her cronies. Which is only to say, alone. No place of welcome, no space to be.
And no plan. Fought this for years…before I understood that it wasn’t just a recalcitrant and revengeful ex-husband, but a plan from the beginning between he and both of our lawyers. A fair and equitable divorce decree – I was surprised and pleased, made plans for such, and lived accordingly – work, school, savings. And with each decree item, personal contact of inquiry, always delayed…then hiring lawyers who, each one, promised results, cashed my check, and then refused all further contact. This after my own lawyer – in the one telephone conversation – yelled at me that I was a “gold digger.” What? The decree even allows that he’d have been paid for pursuing the issues. So, how much had he already received to keep me at bay, decree unfulfilled? The others got theirs by cashing my checks (from $1500 to $3000).
With each rare visit to the children, I had a couple of houses to show him that could be gotten into with the decreed $30,000. Each of those houses would now be paid off with what I’ve paid in rent, would have a garden and a room to rent. A roof over my head. Each time he had an excuse…then one trip, stood in a funny way, looked away saying, “I don’t have to do that.”
He didn’t. I did not learn until 2009, in an opinion by one more lawyer – who, of course, wouldn’t take on the case – that “Articles Incident to Divorce” have a time limit of two years. Then void. Intentional deceit – fraud – by my own lawyer. The house, the car (major manipulations there), insurance, educational expenses for the PhD (forced to take out school loans, with interest now at $100,000). The last item, due at his retirement year, for a cash settlement of “no less than $250,000″, is now ten and a half months delayed. And he stopped alimony. And blocked e-mail. Won’t acknowledge registered letters. And, again, no actually honest lawyer to pursue the case.
With the school loans, with no paid-for roof (that could also be sold), a car payment, and no retirement fund PLUS no academic work, limited editing opportunities, and the general economic slump (esp. in NM), I can’t make it. Early social security payments wouldn’t cover rent and car payment and means permanent severe poverty. Giving up on the storage payments exactly means accepting the injustice, accepting having no value as a person, no rights, no dignity. Really weary of hearing that as THE solution to my financial situation, that I AM THE PROBLEM. Fuck that. Pretty much defines the political status quo…compromise it all away Obama-style, the Democrat way, the credit card-reality way. All those in favor, raise your hands, and meet at the Mall. Relieved that I’m not a bang-bang girl, I’ll finish the fight standing. Not lying down, not dying in the car, not accepting the denial of dignity that has been endorsed by what is called “Law.” Standing. Only regretting that I cannot stand before 12 men at once. With my two children as forced witnesses to my farewell. A list will be posted. In case you care to congratulate them on the fraud, their successful scams.
The rant. The sun has moved to 3pm, and it’s now too warm here for comfort and corgis. And the car will be so hot. It’s occurred to me that the other WholeFoods has an east side patio. We’ll go there now. I look terrible. Dirty hair, the hoody full of holes and the cuffs almost ripped off, jeans with a big hole on one thigh and a smaller one at the inner leg, a hole in the tank right at my stress belly. It’s been 8 months since a hair cut. Chipped tooth. Sleeping in the car changes my posture – forward – and my gait – stumbling.
Frown wrinkles for the 10-month occasion. A gaping hole of loneliness in my chest, but a heart that has felt love from people from around the world. It’s all crazy, crazy-making, and more sad than I can bear.
I was born to a life, too. Just a life. Lived as honestly as I could step up to live it. I am weary. Alone in this no space of a no place life.
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