#all of my socks are too thin and get holes in them within like 3 wears/1 wash

[nihilnovisubsole]

so on my recent trip to socal, i had just enough time for a brief stop at FIDM’s emmy nominee exhibit. everything there was gorgeous, but i was on a mission, and that mission was to get reference close-ups of aziraphale’s costume. if there’s anything i love, it’s thinking way too hard about menswear, so i decided to write up a deep dive to go with them!

these photos are as close as i could get without tripping over the display, and as close as i could zoom my camera in without losing too much clarity. below the cut, i’ve added more thoughts and info about the outfit’s details. honestly, you could get most of this from staring hard enough at behind-the-scenes photos and promotional art. but it was a fun outing, and if it’s any help to anyone’s writing, art, or cosplay needs, that’s just the cherry on top.

[sidenote: i passed a crowd of cosplayers on their way out of the museum - a handful of crowleys and aziraphales and, i believe, a beelzebub. if you were at the exhibit on saturday, september 7th, and you left around 1 PM, i saw you! you looked great!]

NO. 1

aziraphale hand-ties his bow tie in a basic knot called “thistle,” “butterfly,” or “classic” depending on who you ask. though bow ties may not be standard now, it’s a style he could wear for decades without it calling attention to itself as “so dated it’s absurd.” this isn’t the only thing on aziraphale’s costume that, like him, exists a little outside of time. it’s an eccentric mix of pieces that are firmly dickensian and things that could float freely through the last 150 years.

on film, the tie looks bluish-beigey-gray depending on the light, but in person, it’s a dark, desaturated beige. the fabric is thin enough that i’m guessing it’s not wool, but without feeling it, i’m not sure whether it’s linen or matte silk. all i can tell you is that it’s not burberry plaid, though i bet he’d feel at home in a burberry-plaid-lined trench.

speaking of colors, i’ve seen people scratch their heads over whether aziraphale’s shirt is white - which would be traditional - or pale blue. after squinting at it and color-swatching it in photoshop, i think it’s white. if it’s blue, it’s so pale that it doesn’t matter. or does it? oh my god, this is going to bother me.

[edit: i’ve since heard on the costume designer’s authority that it’s pale blue. it’s so close to white, though. do with that what you will.]

NO. 2

after over a century of being put on and taken off, the velvet on aziraphale’s waistcoat is starting to lose its nap. the main wear is around the buttonholes, but there’s also some on the neck where it rubs against his shirt collar and the pocket where he hangs his chain.

the buttons on his frock coat are probably horn, and the buttons on his waistcoat have tiny gold rosettes. his trousers also have a very, very subtle stripe. it’s funny to see all the things the camera doesn’t pick up!

the real reason i took this picture was to get as good a shot as possible of his watch chain. i assume the actual watch is tucked in his pocket, and what we see out front is his medal from heaven or an ornamental charm. the chain is cable-link and the medallion has an ornate border, and the figure in the middle is an angel with its wings unfurled. i would’ve loved to get an even sharper shot and see for sure, but this is the best i could do within the confines of the exhibit. sorry!

NO. 3

i sweat bullets trying to pin down the style of aziraphale’s shoes before i finally googled my way to an answer: balmoral boots! they’re a victorian walking boot that became popular to pair with a frock coat, with contrasting suede(?) uppers and an oxford-style cap toe. while the leather parts almost glow gold in certain pics from the show, they’re a nice, rather rich caramel color in person. not that i would have been scandalized if they actually were gold. we know from the french revolution that aziraphale likes flashy shoes.

while i’m on it, i’ll admit that i love that good omens fans have just collectively decided that aziraphale wears sock garters. you understand me. i’m not going to say anything else.

in this pose, you can’t quite see how aziraphale’s trousers break, and i wonder if the mannequin is a little taller than michael sheen. on him, the un-cuffed hems have either a quarter- or half-break, a nice, standard pant length that never goes out of style. part of me is surprised they didn’t go with a more fusty, vintage full break, but... you know what? no. i’m already so deep down this rabbit hole, i cannot believe i’m sitting here researching victorian pant breaks. moving ON

NO. 4

aziraphale’s two coat cuff buttons sit on a decorative tab, and based on his lifestyle, i’m guessing they’re just for show. while functioning cuff buttons - or “surgeon’s cuffs” - are a lavish sign of a bespoke suit, aziraphale wouldn’t have needed them for their original purpose. the coat has deep flap pockets, and there’s a seam around the waistline, which was typical for victorian frock coats.

from this angle, the cuff buttons look like they’re solid beige, instead of the natural color variation in the horn buttons on the front. are they bone, maybe? did he have to replace them at some point? if he’s kept the coat pristine for over 180 years, but is averse to fixing it with miracles, he may very well have had to take it to a tailor here and there.

i asked my mother, who’s an experienced sewer, what fabric she thought the coat was made of. her guess was either linen, a light, almost summer-weight wool, or a blend of the two to produce that kind of twill. it seems like it’d be cold to wear that year-round in england, but i guess if you’re an angel, you don’t have to worry about being cold, do you?

PS: after more googling, i’ve been reminded that wool-linen blends are forbidden in deuteronomy and leviticus. part of me says, come on. it couldn’t possibly be that deep. on the other hand, this is the show that had gabriel wear shoes called “monk straps.” even if it’s not a blend, it’s hilarious to think about in the context of aziraphale being casually profane.

#good omens #aziraphale #long post #me: i like menswear a normal amount #also me: writes like 900 words on aziraphale's costume #i mean i am the one who did the suit drawing guide so what did i expect of myself #good omens for ts

[merryfortune]

Day 3: AU - Fairy Tale

Written for @atsukyouweek

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Ship: Atsushi/Kyouka

Word Count: 1,103

Tags: Alternate Universe - Orpheus & Eurydice, Angst, Major Character Dearth

  Venom.

  It was venom which killed her, Atsushi realised as he cradled the body of his dearest Kyouka. He could see the snake bites on her ankles, pierced through the thick, white socks that she wore. He wondered how it had happened. Something so simple yet so unusual.

  He tried to call to her. Over and over to rouse her but she was already dead. He had just looked away. That’s all he had done. He had looked away – so that he could go and collect wildflowers for her – and she died.

  On the day of their wedding. Still clad in all her wedding fineries save for her bonnet. It was just them, after all.

  If calling out Kyouka’s name wouldn’t help, then Atsushi would call out the names of all the gods that he knew, and he knew that he was wrong to assume someone kind would respond. Because someone deeply cruel and deeply unkind responded. Before him, as he clutched the body of his lover, Ryuunosuke appeared before him; all clad in black and crimson.

  The God of the Underworld.

  He had been summoned by Atsushi’s pathetic wailing. He wanted to see what had caused such a thing and he was disappointed. A mortal’s love was fleeting to someone immortal, after all but Ryuunosuke had to admit. There was something palatable about Atsushi’s despair.

  His hair was all askew. His eyes were red. His mouth bowed and throat raw with his screaming. He looked good sad, the God of the Underworld thought. And there was something about the scene. Lovers who had just bound their souls together in marital vow only to be parted within hours of partaking in such sour sake. It was beautiful and it piqued Ryuunosuke’s curiosity.

  “Tell me, beast,” he said, “do you think you can bring her back to life?”

  Kyouka was so pale. She was still warm. Lukewarm. And Atsushi was desperate. There was a ferocity in his eyes as he cradled Kyouka.

  He nodded. He was certain.

  “Then take her from me. From the depths of Hell.” Ryuunosuke said, his words burned as cold as ice.

  He snapped his fingers and Atsushi screamed again. Now, he didn’t even have Kyouka’s body. Even though he had been holding onto it so tightly, embracing her corpse so dearly, she slipped through his fingers once more. Turned into snow. Sparkles and flakes of freshly fallen snow. It was demonic.

  Ryuunosuke was gone too.

  But as Atsushi looked down the marks of where the God of the Underworld had stood, he saw the pits of Hell in them char marks. Atsushi clawed at the marks, plucking the grass in desperation and as he did so, he dug his way to the Underworld. He tumbled through and he landed with a thud.

  The atmosphere below the Earth, the mortal realm, was hot and oppressive. But Atsushi persevered. The further away that he got from where he had begun, the darker that the Underworld became, until he could barely see in front of his nose, but he had never embodied the will of a grotesque hunter until now. He would find his love. He would rescue her. They would live happily ever after.

  His tenacity impressed Ryuunosuke. There was a new look to those odd eyes of his. Yellow like rabidity without the foam. Atushi was an interesting mortal, he deemed. He looked good and ugly and so, he released Kyouka to him.

  “Atushi.” She murmured, hugging him. “I-I’m alive.” She buried her face against his breast.

  Cynical, Atsushi placed his hand on Kyouka’s shoulder. There was something about her form in the dark, in the din, which was unnatural. Ephemeral.

  “There’s a condition.” Ryuunosuke piped up, untouched by the touching scene of lovers reunited. “Kyouka will only be returned to you if you retake her to the surface. Until that time, when you both are standing in the light and as you make this fretful passage,” Ryuunosuke’s voice turned salient with warning, “you may not look at her. You can only walk ahead of her until that time you are both in the light but until then. You have my blessing.”

  More venom, Atsushi thought. But he agreed to the condition.

  And so, Ryuunosuke released his latest prisoner of the Underworld. Atsushi’s skin prickled. He heard Kyouka call his name. She sounded so scared. She didn’t want to live or die in the dark. She wanted to be by his side and Atsushi wanted nothing but the same.

  Thus, it was the light that they must return to. To walk towards.

  In the doom of the Underworld, every step of the way was treacherous. The ground underfoot was rocky. It hurt to walk here with shooting pains that pierced through. And it was quiet, too. Atsushi couldn’t bear it. Once upon a time, he always knew where Kyouka was because of the heavy thud of her wooden sandals but not anymore. Not down here at least.

  His head throbbed with fears as he kept walking forward. Unable to hear even his own footsteps With the creeping hotness of this cave-like system of the Underworld going down his spine but, at least, there was one consolidation which he could make for himself. It was increasingly getting lighter. The pitch blackness of the Underworld was giving way to grey and maroons before finally.

  He was so close. Finally.

  Finally, he could see from where he had clawed through from the overworld at Ryuunosuke’s sick permission.

  Grand shafts of light beamed down through those slight holes which had crumbled outwards. Atsushi’s heart began to pound quicker. He grinned. Grinned maniacally to himself. Another few steps and then he had to treat himself. He – he and Kyouka – were both practically upon the topside soil once more so he had to check. He had lost Kyouka once because he had let her out of his sight but not again. Not twice.

  Atsushi turned around.

  “Atsushi, no!” Kyouka cried out to him, hand out reached and Atsushi’s heart broke once more.

  He heard thunderous laughter as tears began to form in his eyes. In what little vision there was, Atsushi was helpless as he watched Kyouka, body and soul, turned to nothing but specks of light. She vanished into thin air.

  “You’ve lost her once more, beast.” Ryuunosuke admonished Atsushi ruthlessly. “She belongs to my realm now. And so, begone with you.”

  Atsushi sobbed. He bawled, he came down to his knees and he clawed at the ground. His whole body aching for his beloved whom he would never see again because of his foolishness.

#atsukyouweek2020 #atsukyou #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi #kyouka izumi #izumi kyouka #bungou stray dogs #bsd #writing tag #i've been waiting to retell this myth as an au for yonks #and these two were perfect with the theme of darkness vs light

[anthracenes]

Passion-Based Learning | Chapter 3

Tags/Trigger Warnings: Non-Con/Rape, Hypnosis, Hypnotism, Abuse of Authority, Conditioning, Dehumanization, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Dom/sub, Brainwashing, Praise Kink, Anal Sex, Manipulation, Objectification, Creampie

[read on AO3 here]

Wilfred runs his fingers through the soft, brown locks of his sleeping victim. There was just something charming to him about how childlike the boy is. For a supposed eighteen-year-old in college, Isaac was barely into adulthood: lean and unbelievably tiny. If it weren’t for the college ID strung around his neck, Wilfred would have no trouble believing the boy to be fifteen at most. 

 Itching to see just what he was working with, he lays the boy on his back and removes his clothing from him, one by one. His shirt, sneakers, socks, pair of jeans: the tutor peels them all off within a matter of minutes, discarding them onto the floor, with the boy’s underwear placed at the very top of the pile. Wilfred finds with no surprise that, much like the rest of his lean body, Isaac’s is near hairless underneath those tight boxer briefs—with just the lightest dusting of hair covering the base of his slim, pretty cock.  

 “What a dream…” Wilfred’s whispers, pressing tongue onto naked flesh. He brushes his lips against the shell of his ear, the nape of his neck. Lavishes attention on the boy’s chest, his waist, and down—slowly, further down still—all the way until he’s buried his face inside Isaac’s warm, inviting thighs. Wilfred drinks in the way Isaac react to his touch even in his sleep, skin flushing and prickling underneath his lips as the tutor slowly peppers kisses throughout his vulnerable body. 

 “So pretty… and so, so small . If I didn’t know any better, Isaac, I’d say you haven’t even started puberty yet.”

 He nudges the sleeping boy’s thighs apart, suckling at the pale, creamy skin…

 … and smiles when he hears the boy gasp from underneath him, followed by a soft, sleepy moan. 

 “Mmm… fuck . You're going to be so much fun to break into, I can already tell,” Wilfred breathes, licking his lips.

 From the way he’s reacted to the slightest compliment, all flustered and pink, to the way he eagerly scarfs down what’s placed in front of him in a stranger’s house, the tutor can already venture a guess as to the kind of upbringing Isaac’s grown up with. Sheltered by wealth and strictly success-oriented, no doubt, with little room for any warmth. The prestigious school, the double-major, the tell-tale dreams of becoming a doctor—it all tells him just as much, as well: the all-too-familiar story of a child, overcompensating to impress the whims of his despotic parents. It’s no wonder the poor thing is all too eager to trust, running headfirst towards the first hints of the love and affection he’s never had growing up. 

 Right into the waiting maw of a predator like him.

 He has no one to thank more than the kid’s own parents, really. With Isaac at hand, naive and none-the-wiser, he could do so, so much to the boy. Corrupt him; groom him. Brainwash him into happily serving Wilfred on his hands and knees, instead of whatever shallow career his parents had meant for the boy to pursue. The tutor remembers fondly what that was like: the thrill of the time he had finally brought Alex home permanently, after going through their final session together. He feels himself getting hard in his slacks, thinking about getting to do it all over again.

 Two lovely pets, all to himself. If he plays his cards right, Alex will finally have a cute little playmate to join him in no time.

 With that in mind, Wilfred climbs onto the couch. He situates himself next to the boy and began whispering in his ear the same soft, calming tones that had lured Isaac in before. As always, the tutor takes great care to use the ticking of the clock to aid him, flowing the tempo of his words to the heavy swing of brass.

 To and fro. 

  To and fro.

 “Doesn’t this feel nice, Isaac? A nice, relaxing little study break, just for you. You deserve it, after all, after working so hard.”

 Without opening his eyes, the boy lolls his head forward, nodding. 

 “You never get a break from studying at home though, do you? You work so hard at school—but do you ever get a chance to stop? Sit back, relax, and just rest for a little while?”

 “Mm, no,” Isaac mumbles. “Not really…”

 “And why is that?”

 “Mother— Father... they’d just… have tutors ready for me, waiting at home after school…”

 “I see... And they don’t think at all about how exhausted their son would already be, coming home after a long day of learning, do they?” The tutor smiles, wolfish and predatory. “Poor dear. I just don’t know how you manage it, Isaac.”

 Isaac frowns—almost a pout. “I have to, to become a doctor… It’s a lot, but… can’t let them down…”

 Just as he suspected. And what a waste that would be—to throw away all that youthful innocence on something so painfully uninspired. He’ll definitely have to change that, won’t he?

 “I see. Well, Isaac, you’re always welcome to take a break here ,” The tutor pauses, letting the suggestion settle before continuing. “A little study break, once a week: where you get to relax and rest . Getting enough rest is important, after all—no matter what anyone else may insist.” 

 “From now on, let’s take a little study break like this, shall we? It’ll be a normal part of our tutoring sessions: something you can do to rest after a long week’s worth of studying and classes.”

 “Study break… rest…” the boy softly repeated.

 “Yes, Isaac. A nice, sleepy little study break ,” Wilfred smiles, gently stroking the boy’s cheek with his fingers. “And you won’t even think about it, will you Isaac? No, thinking’s too hard… The whole point of breaks are to rest your pretty little head, after all. Best to just rest and let go in these little study breaks— relax and let go to the sound of my voice.”

 A shiver travels through Isaac’s body as he absorbs the new suggestion.

 “Do you understand?”

 The boy nods. “Let go… Thinking... too hard……  sleepy…”    

 “That’s right… thinking is just too difficult, when you’re so very sleepy like this. ” Wilfred drawls, “During these breaks, it’s so much easier to just sit back and listen, isn’t it? Just leave all the difficult thinking to your tutor from here on out.”

 Isaac’s body sags even further at that, as if to wholly surrender himself to the perverted tutor. 

  “That’s it… just listen and let me help you, Isaac. Empty your mind of anything other than my voice. Just listen, obey, and let your tutor make you feel so much better...” 

 With that, Wilfred takes out the bottle of lube that had been warming in his pocket for the past hour. He squirts a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it to the side, making sure to apply more than what’s necessary. There’s just something about Isaac that screams to be taken apart slowly, savored and played with every step of the way—small and delicate as he is. 

 He just can’t help but indulge the sweet boy a little.

 “In a moment, I’m going to spread you open right here,” he murmurs, spreading Isaac open and  lining slick fingers at the tight, pink entrance. “Make you feel so good during your study break, just like you wanted.”

 Wilfred traces the rim with the flat of his digits sensually, teasingly, until the hole is winking with anticipation. 

 “Tell me: have you ever done this to yourself before?”

 He hears Isaac’s breath hitch from underneath him. “No…” 

 “No?” The tutor chuckles. He leans forward, whispering over the boy’s ear.  “Oh, you’ll love it, Isaac. I’m going to make sure of it, one way or another…” 

 The tutor slides his fingers inside. He works them in nice and slow at first—pressing against the tight ring of muscle and feeling out Isaac’s virgin-tight passage, as he gently spreads the boy open on his fingers. 

 “God, you’re so tight… It’s as if your body is just sucking me in here,” Wilfred whispers. He eases his fingers in and out of the boy—quickly, efficiently, picking up his pace once the boy adjusts to him and filling the room with the slick, sloppy sounds of it. “... Like your body is just hungry for it.”

 Isaac is panting, ragged and breathy. Already Wilfred sees him starting to respond favorably—his little waist bucking as if it had a mind of its own; his pretty cock beginning to fill untouched. Eyes closed and lips parted open on a moan, the sleeping boy on his fingers looked no different than the image of someone lost in pure and utter bliss.

 He can’t wait to see what the boy looks like, spread open on his cock.

 “Look at you: so desperate to be filled you’re practically drooling for it,” the tutor smirks, reaching for his own zipper. “What a hungry, hungry boy you must be, Isaac.”

 He kicks off his own slacks towards the pile of Isaac’s discarded clothes and grabs the bottle of lube off from the side. Wilfred dribbles a fair amount on his hand, palming at his erection as he prepares himself to fully ravish the boy in his sleep.

 “The cookies weren’t nearly enough for you, were they? No, no—it looks to me like your body wants something even more to fill you up.

 “Something… more….” the boy mumbles.

  “Yes, something more. Something bigger, and thicker, and with even more protein to fill you up with. Yeah, you want for nothing more than to be filled up to the brim with all of that, right here.” 

 Isaac whines, drool pooling down his chin in thin little streams. With all of the capacity for thought siphoned out of his head, the boy is left utterly helpless to the whims of the tutor—unable to refuse the suggestions taking hold of his otherwise empty little mind. He has no other choice but to listen and obey: wanting for nothing else than what Wilfred dictates he does at the moment.

 “Open your eyes, Isaac. Beg for me properly. Spread those legs wide open and show me just how much you want me to stuff you full.”

 The boy follows immediately, lifting his legs up high and holding each in place by the back of his thighs as dazed, brown eyes fluttered open. Isaac’s body is nearly folded in half this way, giving the tutor quite the view as the student obediently awaits further commands.

 Placing the boy’s raised legs atop his shoulders, Wilfred lines himself up with Isaac’s hole. 

 “What a good boy,” the tutor coos, gripping Isaac’s hips as he slides himself inside the tight, wet heat. It doesn’t escape Wilfred’s attention just how positively the boy responds to even the slightest praise: the way he flushes scarlet all over, moaning—or the way his slim, pretty cock stood tall at his words, even despite the pain the boy was surely in. 

 “ Such a lovely, pretty boy for me, taking all of me so, so well.”

  “You love this, don’t you sweetling?”

  “This is what you were hungry for all along: nothing feels better to you than something big and thick inside of you like this, filling your slutty, hungry hole.”

 Isaac mewls—tiny, breathless little sounds as the tutor fucks the suggestions into him. The boy is stretched taut around his cock, and with each praise he gives him Wilfred could physically feel him more and more: clenched around him, tight and vise-like, as if his body was trying to draw him deeper in. 

 As he pounds into him hard and relentless, Wilfred comes across the little bundle of nerves inside of Isaac that pries a loud, desperate cry from the boy. He gives a quick snap of his hips, hitting the same spot again and again—making his student all but melt underneath him. 

 “There you go, sweetling. Doesn’t this feel so, so good? You want this to happen during each and every one of our sessions, every time we meet. You’ll grow to crave it, until it’s all you can think about during your classes. Until all you’ll want to do is rest, relax, and surrender your mind to me as I stuff your hungry body with what it really needs…” 

 He takes Isaac’s leaking cock in his hand, earning a choked moan from him as he wraps his fingers around it and strokes the boy off to the pace of his thrusts. 

  “Just let it all happen, Isaac. Accept it. Just let your tutor make you feel so much better…” 

 All at once, Isaac groans. The boy is trembling around him as he cums harder than he’s ever had in his life, painting his chest and tummy white. The sensation of Isaac clenching down around him only brings the tutor to quickly follow suit, spilling his seed inside the boy as he fucks his orgasm deep into him. 

 Wilfred collapses on top of the boy once he’s finished, laying there together for a little as they both catch their breath. When he finally regains his strength, the tutor pushes himself up and off the couch, putting his slacks back on and admiring how wrecked the boy looks, his puffy hole twitching, leaking cum onto the leather couch. 

 Eventually he’ll teach the boy to love getting on his knees and cleaning up after his fun little messes. For now, however, the tutor is content to just have Alex lick the upholstery clean for him after the session today is over.

 “ Good boy, Isaac. You’ve been such a good student for me today,” Wilfred says to him, not at all missing how Isaac practically glows under the praise. He helps Isaac get dressed, slipping his underwear, pants, and shirt back on—over the boy’s filthy, cum-splattered body. 

 He pats him on the cheek, smiling.

 “Close your eyes, Isaac. In a moment, I’m going to count down and have you wake up from your study break. When you do, nothing that we’ve done so far will seem strange to you, because this is everything you want from a session isn’t it?”

 Slowly, Isaac nods and shuts his eyes.

 “That’s right. You’re so stressed and hungry from your day-to-day classes that you have no more energy to even think when you get to these sessions,” he reiterates, driving the point home to the boy. “You come here to take a break from all of that: a nice, little study break, where you can let everything go and have your tutor make you feel so much better.”

 He sits Isaac upright on the couch, arranging his body to be exactly the way he was before the boy had fallen asleep on his lap.

 “Now, Isaac: wake up for me, in three…”

 “... Two…”

  “One.”

#Anthracene AO3 fic #original fic #non-con

[notveryglittery]

Flirting With Danger, Ch6

summary: Patton is late. Roman is also late.  words: 2,700 / ships: romantic royality, platonic moxiety warnings: robbery, injuries, threat to one’s life, hospital mention, negative thoughts notes: thank you all so much for your patience on this update!! @do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them @fandersfic-royality​ @fandersfic-moxiety​ read on ao3 | Ch1: the first time | Ch2: *mcelroy voice* hotboy! Ch3: sky soliloquy | Ch4: the interview™ Ch5: you have my heart | Ch6: the second time Ch7: is this allowed??

The second time it happened wasn’t Patton’s fault either, he would insist, although some may disagree. He was on his way home from the daycare where he worked, a little over a week after the events that led to him meeting the new love of his life, and although he knew stopping to step on every crunchy leaf littered on the sidewalk might make him miss his bus, he couldn’t really bring himself to be worried. It was practically a rule for autumn! You had to step on crunchy leaves! The noise was satisfying beneath his shoes and he giggled at each one, earning delighted smiles from children being hurried along by their parents. If Virgil were with him, Patton knew he’d have that “exasperated but fond” look on his face. He kind of wore it all the time whenever they were together…

A particularly nice bunch of leaves was just a few feet ahead of him and Patton guessed that they’d been swept there from the entrance of a store so as not to be accidentally tracked in. His expression lit up upon seeing it, and he was about ready to hop or skip his way over to those good good crunchy boys when a loud clatter came from his right. Patton paused, foot extended in literal mid-step, turning to see what the commotion was. He’d stopped next to a jewelry store; its lights were off and they looked closed for the day.

It seemed kind of early (the sun had yet to set) but Patton wasn’t going to blame anyone for wanting to be home as soon as possible. If they were closed, though, what was making so much noise? Before Patton could begin to investigate, the door swung open so fast, the glass pane within it shattered. Yelping in alarm, Patton moved to take a step back, but several things happened all at once.

There was an odd blurring of the air near the door, but Patton didn’t have time to wonder about it before he found himself flat on his back in the strip of grass between street and sidewalk, and at the same moment there was a ridiculously loud crash and he instinctively turned away and covered his head with his arms, and a second after that he finally registered the pain resulting from something colliding hard with the leg with which he’d been about to step forward. As he blinked quite a few times in utter confusion and started to sit up, he heard loud swearing nearby and realized that “something” had been a person. From Patton's point of view, he could only see their ankle boots and heavy jacket -- definitely too thick a material for the current weather. Patton was even warm in his thin cardigan. That was Florida for you, he supposed…

“Sorry,” Patton called, pretty sure it was his fault that the person had tripped in the first place… Although he had no idea where they had come from… “Are you okay?”

Patton became vaguely aware of the sound of alarms going off in the jewelry store behind him but he was sufficiently distracted from it when the stranger stood up so quickly, Patton didn't even see it happen. One moment, they were collapsed in the street, and the next they were storming towards him with fury in their eyes. They were wearing a mask that was golden, sharp at the edges, with lightning bolts striking down their cheekbones; whether they were part of the fabric or painted on or something else entirely, Patton wasn't sure. Their hair was auburn red, looking like they had permanent bedhead, and the eyes glaring at him were a shade as blue as the sky on a clear day. Now that they were facing him, Patton could see the outfit beneath the coat was a material not unlike spandex and just as flashy as the mask. 

"You!" They snarled, grabbing a fistful of Patton's shirt and lifting him off the ground by his collar.

“I'm sorry!” Patton said again, raising his own hands in a display of peace. It seemed like the best course of action, especially since he was pretty sure most normal people couldn't have picked him up so easily.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?!” They snapped, jabbing a finger into Patton's face.

“Been in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Patton offered meekly, hoping they'd realize this was all just one big misunderstanding. Gosh, what would Virgil say now… It really was starting to look like Patton was getting into trouble on purpose! He'd been joking when he said so last week, honest!

“That heist would have been perfect were it not for your idiocy! Just who do you think you are?” They sneered, scowling down at Patton. “Not even powered, are you?”

Patton frowned. Would it have been so bad if he wasn't? Having superpowers was rare! In fact, Patton was the normal one here! He tried to pull himself free, his legs aching from having to stand on the tips of his toes with the way this person was holding him. It didn't help that it hurt to put any weight on his left foot, given how badly his ankle was throbbing. He wasn't given the opportunity, however, as they shoved him away in disgust. Patton stumbled back, landing hard on the sidewalk. He winced and mentally added a bruised tailbone to his list of injuries.

“Clearly, you're a menace to everyone around you, so I might as well take care of that.”

Whatever it was they were planning on doing, Patton wouldn't find out. The alarms inside the jewelry store were joined now with the sound of police sirens coming down the road. Their head snapped towards the noise; the movement was so sudden, Patton thought they'd hurt their neck in the process. He tried to crawl backwards and away from them, slowly so as not to be noticed.

And speaking of noticing…

Patton saw now, littered along the sidewalk and all the way out to the street where the villain (it was so obvious now) had fallen, various pieces of jewelry. It was a lot of shiny and expensive looking necklaces, for the most part. Unfortunately, so distracted in getting away and realizing exactly what he'd done, Patton failed to remember the broken door from earlier. He cried out in pain as his palm came down on the shattered glass. He’d only just recoiled, curling his arm against his chest and blinking rapidly to slow the tears in his eyes, when a foot stomped down in front of him.

“This won't be the last time you see me,” the villain promised and Patton wondered distantly why it sounded like he was being threatened right now.

He closed his eyes against the wind that kicked up as they disappeared and Patton finally connected the dots: he’d just inadvertently stopped a super fast bad guy from robbing a jewelry store. That would explain why his ankle hurt so badly; they’d had to have crashed into it while making their getaway. Patton fumbled for his phone and fired a text off to Virgil before he could get swept up in the police investigation. It was a little hard with one of his hands hurt but spell check helped a lot. 'Gonna be home late! Love you <3'

Patton stayed put where he was as the cars pulled up to the scene. He explained as best he could what had happened, pointing out the jewelry and the shattered window pane. He described the villain, making sure to detail the mask as best he could because he figured that would be the easiest way to identify them. The officer — a nice lady named Eva — called an ambulance for him and insisted he not move much so that he wouldn’t aggravate his injuries any further. It wasn’t until he was laid out on a stretcher in the back of the vehicle that Patton remembered how expensive hospitals were. How was he supposed to afford something like this? He worked at a daycare! Virgil would insist on helping but it wasn’t like coffee shop tips would do much.  

It all sort of started blurring together at some point. There were pages to fill out and sign, insurance questions to answer, and it was so much sitting still that Patton was really starting to get antsy. He hadn’t been able to check his phone since messaging Virgil and he was beginning to worry about Virgil worrying and he just had to step on all those crunchy leaves, didn’t he?

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” the nurse said softly, resting a hand on his arm.

“Huh?” Patton asked and it was then that he realized he’d begun to cry. “Oh.”

He wiped at his eyes and gave her a watery smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a very long day. We’re almost done here, alright? We just need the doctor to prescribe you some painkillers. Will you need crutches?”

Patton turned the offer down since he wasn’t sure he’d actually use them. They were kind of clunky. Thankfully, his ankle was only mildly sprained, and they figured he would only need to stay off of it for a couple days. They’d gotten all of the glass shards out of his palm and his hand was wrapped up so snugly that it was a bit awkward moving it. Unfortunately, it was his dominant hand, which meant the next couple of days with that were going to be uncomfortable.

Wow. He was not having a great day.

Eventually, they released him with a bunch of important papers and a prescription that he couldn’t get filled until tomorrow. The moon had risen during his time inside and the cool fall weather was starting to set in. Was he crying while trying to use his phone in his left hand to call an Uber? Maybe. It was okay, though, just as long as he could pull himself together by the time he got home so he wouldn’t have to worry Virgil anymore than he already was. He hadn’t replied to the text and Patton wondered if he was stuck late at work.

A loud thud sounded to his right and Patton flinched, too tired to do much else.

“Are you okay?!”

Patton startled, finally looking to see who joined him. He squeaked in surprise. “Ah! You! Uhm!”

The superhero he’d fallen head over heels for was taking a seat beside him on the bench. While he’d initially looked rather panicked, his expression softened as he took Patton’s bandaged hand in his.

“Oh no,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

Patton was pretty sure he was melting. “It’s alright… How could you have known?”

The Prince scoffed. “It’s my job. I let you down.”

Patton frowned, pulling his hand free just so that he could jab a finger against the hero’s chest. “Hey! None of that! You did no such thing. It wouldn’t be fair to you for us to expect you to be everywhere at once.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“What if there had been a building on fire?” Patton asked. “I would rather you take care of that over silly little me accidentally stopping a robbery.”

He hummed. “I suppose… you might have a point.”

“I’m fine, anyway!” Patton said suddenly, smiling brightly. “My ankle should only take a few days to get better.” He waved his hand. “This will take even less time. And I stopped a robbery! Isn’t that so exciting?!”

His voice was starting to get wobbly and his eyes were beginning to sting again but Patton hoped it wasn’t obvious. They were still practically strangers so maybe his crush wouldn’t even notice. Patton knew that he was pretty good at hiding these sorts of things—well, from everyone except Virgil, of course.

“... Could I…” The hero hesitated. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Patton laughed in the sort of way people laugh when they’re trying not to cry. “I dunno, can you pay for the hospital bills I’m going to end up drowning in?”

“Yes.”

Patton blinked.” What?”

“Yes,” the Prince repeated. “Absolutely.”

“Wha—” Patton stammered. “No! I… that’s not what I meant! I was kidding!”

“It’s the least I could do since I wasn’t there for you.”

“Prince! Er… Your Highness? Uh, I’m not sure what— It’s okay, really, you don’t have to do that! I was just… it was a joke.”

The hero was smiling at him through his rambling and Patton was sure he’d combust any moment now. For once, though, he seemed to have his head on straight. He needed to get home. He needed to talk to Virgil.

“May I escort you home?”

Patton’s entire face felt like it was on fire. “Wh- what? Are… are you sure?”

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

Patton looked down at his phone. The screen to call an Uber was still up. It displayed the cost of the drive. He didn’t really need that on top of everything else…

“Okay,” Patton agreed. “Do you… have a car?”

The Prince laughed as he stood. “Not for cases like this. You aren’t too far from here, right?”

Patton went to stand as well, teetering a little as he tried not to put weight on his injured ankle. He wasn’t, thankfully; the hospital was closer to home than the jewelry store was. “I’m close! I guess I ought to get used to walking in this ankle boot...”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The hero tsked. “Here we go, ready?”

Before Patton could ask what he was supposed to be ready for, the Prince was sweeping him off his feet. Literally. Patton gasped, arms shooting to wrap around his neck.

“Oh! Okay,” he laughed a little nervously. “Okay! Yeah, this… this is fine. Good. It’s great.”

He was going to die.

Roman tried very, very hard not to think about the proximity of Patton’s face to his own as he carried him in the direction of his apartment building. He seemed a little embarrassed about the situation already, ducking his head against Roman’s shoulder to hide the very cute blush coloring his cheeks, and it wouldn’t do to make him any more self-conscious by staring. (Also, there was a non-zero chance of walking into something if he got too distracted, and Patton was known to be extremely distracting.)

In the silence that stretched between Patton’s occasional directions, Roman recalled how he’d gotten to this point. Regrettably, it’d been a chores kind of day, and so he hadn’t even been doing anything important or heroic when Patton could have used his help. Afterwards, he’d donned his costume, and headed out for patrol. The sun was on its way to setting by the time he’d stopped at the nearest police station for a report. He liked to check in on days that he wasn’t able to properly keep an eye on the city, just in case he missed anything important. Most crimes were small enough that the local police could take care of it but Roman just liked to be there for the people.

When he’d found that a jewelry store robbery had been stopped by a civilian, Roman’s curiosity was piqued. The moment the name “Patton” fell from the officer’s lips (he hadn’t even got the last name out), Roman was demanding which hospital they’d taken him to. Immediately, he’d taken off for it, reprimanding himself the entire way for being negligent; at least his timing had been good enough to catch Patton before he left. The offer to pay for his hospital bills was sudden but it wasn’t like Roman couldn’t afford it and, besides, it really was the least he could do. Besides taking Patton out on the most extravagant of dates, anyway, and spoiling him with flowers, gifts, affection—

“Pardon?” Roman asked, blinking and clearing his head of his daydreams.

Patton giggled, though it still sounded a bit forced. Roman frowned. “I was just saying, my building is this next one.”

They headed in and Patton pointed Roman in the direction of the elevator. He focused very hard on the music playing through the tiny speakers and not of how warm Patton felt in his arms. He may have been familiar with elevated temperatures, but this was entirely different. It wasn’t until they were very nearly to Patton’s apartment that his phone went off. Roman was going to make a comment on the The Nightmare Before Christmas ringtone when the door swung open to reveal a very panicked Virgil. 

Oh dear.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality fan fiction #romantic royality #platonic moxiety #flirting with danger #dani writes #nick's stuff

[sagittariusboyfriend]

What have been some creepy encounters you've experienced? Story please?

ive waited quite some time to respond to this message, like literally a long ass time lol, probably more than a year, sorry. i feel like i have several encounters to tell you about, but what im going to relay to whomever might be reading this right now is a thing that went on over the course of an entire year.

quick backstory: during the better part of 2017 i lived with my then boyfriend (who now is just my best friend since we broke up in october this year) in the old parts of the city center. all buildings in that area are from around 1870, and the building where we lived is one of the first ones to have been erected. his aparment was on ground level and it has all the features of turn of the century housing with the fireplace, original floors, weird nooks and crannies etc, and looks as if it was meant to be lived in by service people/kitchen personnel. it also had its original door (i suppose) with the kind of springy locking mechanism where you have to turn the key and pull down the handle real hard simultaneously to open from the outside, the knob is very tough to turn from the inside, and it locks itself instantly once you close it (so if you forget your keys youre basically screwed). it makes a loud brassy springy clicking noise when the lock shuts or opens. takes a lot of effort to open this old door and its loud, is what im saying. the entire apartment is all original details, the flooring in the corridor has its original wood planks, original ventilation, weird but beautiful glass panels on the door etc.

the key and the door unlocking from inside

first off, when he moved in, the landlord was missing a key in the set of four. my then boyfriend, lets call him C, didnt really think about it. he moved in, gave his dad one of the extra keys. the first weird thing that happened was when C got back from work in the afternoon maybe two weeks after moving in. in the middle of the corridor, on the floor, he sees the missing key. like smack dab in the middle of the narrow corridor leading from hallway to the bathroom, next to his boots. its too far in to have been thrown in by someone through the letter slot in the door, and could not have been dropped there by neither him nor his father since they had all of their keys. so he’s like, weird, but doesnt really think about it. he also told me that around that time he heard coughing from the corridor when inside his bedroom (it opens up to the right from the corridor once you step inside the apartment), but also waved it off since it might as well have been neighbours just outside in the hall.

next weird thing that happens is after we had started dating and i pretty much lived there with him, and this time i experienced it. i started work around noon whereas C left around 6 in the morning. so im in bed and its maybe 10 o’clock, and i wake up to that loud, springy clicking noise of the locking mechanism in the door. and im like, what is he doing home at this time? so i get up, but no one is there. the door is also juuust a little bit askew, as if someone was going outside but then decided not to, like its just shoved open enough for the lock to click open, but the door isnt opened, its still within the width of the doorframe if you get what i mean. so i look outside and the hall is empty. i should have been able to hear steps in the very echo-y stairwell (which is also old and the acoustics are fantastic because we hear everytime a neighbour passes by, and subsequently opens the building entrance door which is also a loud, heavy door), but heard neither steps, up or down the stairs in the hall, nor anyone opening the heavy entrance door, or any evidence of human activity. all is quiet. i get a bit freaked out, because that means that unless someone else had a key, our door was unlocked from inside.

i tell C when he gets back, and after this is where shit starts to ACTUALLY go down.

im going to try to remember all of this in the correct order, but i know it started in january 2017, and went on until he moved out in december.

the song in the hallway

C talks a lot in his sleep. sometimes he even sings, he speaks in english (we’re swedish) and  he has been known to get up and take a shower at one in the morning while still asleep thinking hes late for work. for those who are on heavy sleeping medication, u get it. its not weird, mostly its funny, and its just because of the medication. these things go on literally every night and it was a bit hard to fall asleep to loud talking and incoherent words sometimes because he used to go to bed three-four hours earlier than me, but i managed just fine. one night we were in bed, it wasnt that late but C was asleep, i was on my phone next to him. i hear this weird melody being hummed, thinking its coming from C i take out my earplugs and check, but its coming from the fucking hallway. again, no one outside in the stairs, just someone or something humming a melody in the hallway. i remember my hair standing up all over my body and i was glad i slept closest to the wall, C shielding me from being viewed directly from the hallway. somehow i manage to fall asleep. and this part is going to sound weird and like its made up, im very aware, but having been through this crap i dont really care because i know it happened: the morning after C was off from work, and i for once woke up before he did. if i wake him up and his medication hasnt ‘wore off’ yet i guess (dont really know how that works) he’ll be disoriented and it takes a few minutes for his brain to register that hes awake and he can speak coherently. i did not poke him, i did not try to wake him up, but all of a sudden i hear him humming that same melody, very much deep asleep. that freaked me out.

the mimicking begins

another night around that time, i was up at around 2-3 am to go to the bathroom. i wiggle out of bed, out into the corridor, at the end of the corridor is the bathroom. when im done, i scurry back into the bedroom, information of value here i guess is i always sleep with my socks on so im wearing socks, aka i dont make a lot of noise when i get up. when im back in bed, looking at my phone, i hear footsteps - from the corridor. the freakiest thing is its like they are imitating the way i walked back from the bathroom, i can so CLEARLY hear sockless, BARE feet on the creaky floor of the hallway, literally stepping at the same pace i did. that was my first thought; someone is imitating my footsteps. i can hear them from behind the wall in the hallway, coming to a stop at the opening into the bedroom. like someone is standing there, watching. i get so scared i hide under the covers and press myself close to C and cant stop feeling icy shivers down my spine. i also cant stop thinking that someone or something waited for me in the kitchen, then walked behind me, mimicking me, and is now standing at the beedroom threshold, watching me. somehow i fall asleep, or i dont, i cant remember.at this point, im thinking somethings up with that hallway.

the poorly covered hole

this part isnt anything scary/supernatural really, just uncomfortable and kinda sets the tone for living in this apartment at the time: in the bedroom, C had placed a clothing rack next to the old 1900s floor-to-ceiling ventilation pipe that is plastered into the wall in the corner. literally just a wide ass pipe in the corner of the room that isnt in use anymore. behind the rack, leaning against the pipe, he had put a rarely used pink neon tube light and i decided it would look cool to try it out, but it was dusty in that little nook thing where it was so i had to clean it up a bit. while moving the clothing rack to vacuum, i realize there is a hole at least as big as my hand in the side of the pipe. i was like ??the frick is this? and i poke into it and there is just this thin paper membrane covering it. you could almost fit an entire head through there, and i can literally feel wafts of cold wind moving through it. there probably used to be an attached pipe of some sort to allow smoke from the kitchen to go up into the ventilation like a hundred years ago, but the thought that this at least 1 meter wide pipe, wide enough to fit a person, goes up through probably all apartments above us, up through the attic, ending as an open chimney in the roof, has this big hole in it is just… unsettling to me. obviously the pipe is not in use anymore, but that kind of only made it scarier. ive seen enough scary movies for that to make me feel a bit paranoid lol. i was almost expecting a hand to push through that paper when i touched it. but i covered it back up with the clothing rack and nothing really happened with that.

the mirror incident

one night, me and C were getting ready to go out. im getting ready in the hallway, because thats where the big wall-sized full figure mirrors are (of course). C comes out of the bathroom, runs past me infront of me, veering off to the left into the bedroom, wearing only underwear. i look after him in the mirror, i can see him in the bedroom, in front of his clothing rack. im fixing my hair at the time, both hands on my head. to my direct left is the front door and the space with our shoes and jackets. right in front of the door, for a split moment while im turning back to keep looking at myself in the mirror, i see what looks exactly like C but paler, wearing only underwear, standing in the same position as me, turned away from me as if the thing is also looking in a mirror. heads on its head like its fixing its hair, just like me. imitating me. i get shivers just typing this down. i tell C what i just saw, i literally went: ”uh C? i just saw a man infront of the door”, dumbfounded, and we both got a bit freaked out, and got out of there pretty quickly.

learning about demons

a few weeks later, C invites his friend to comes to visit. im not there at that time so i never met her, but she apparently had a knack for sensing ghosts and picking up on energies etc. he told me that when he got up to get them more wine from the kitchen and left her alone in the couch in the bedroom, she said she really felt very uncomfortable sitting with her back to the hallway corridor. she also told him that ghosts and spirits are usually not malevolent and you can get by fine living in a ‘haunted’ house. but when he told her what we had experienced so far, she told him that ghosts usually dont behave that way, and that a rule is that if something is imitating or mimicking you, its probably not a ghost, but might be signs of fucking DEMONIC ACTIVITY. apparently demons like to mock and impersonate people. friendly caspers dont do that. fun.

realizing the triangle/cursed ground

so, yeah. weird things kept happening. but we had jobs, sometimes you just gotta ignore that shit and try not to live your life terrified of demons. which we still were for the record; i dont think we ever left each other alone in that apartment for any longer than necessary after that, i remember C actually staying at his dads during the time i went away to see my family.

anyway, when we had started dating C had introduced this podcast to me. its a swedish one where a guy called jack reads creepypastas, analyzes spooky stuff, old folklore, all that stuff, and also reads original content and real stories written by listeners. its really good and really creepy. so that podcast had been going for maybe two years by then so i had a LOT to catch up with, wich wasnt a bad thing at all. i remember by this time is was summer and i was out on the street smoking a cigarette after doing dishes, and the episode i was listening to was about the last of the execution spots/gallow hills (?? i guess is the correct term? not sure) in sweden. remember, we lived in the old part of the city center, in the northern part of the city. very old buildings, very old everything. so jack commences to talk about the famous last gallow hill in [our city] and where it was located, when the final execution took place and for what, how many people had been killed there and its entire bloody history. i almost drop my cigarette, because he says it was located on zenithgatan (”zenith street”), and where the gallows used to be there is now a kindergarten. so im on our street, just outside our kitchen windows, looking right at that specific kindergarten. just across the main road. i will provide a screenshot of a map and a street view of what i was looking at to let you know i am not making this up:

so the street we lived on is called döbelnsgatan (”döbeln street”, döbeln is apparently a city in germany, i just googled that), at the very end of the street, our citys main old cemetary is juuust beyond our line of sight to the right from the kitchen windows and where i was standing. however, across from us: zenithgatan, with all of its bloody history. i couldnt help but to wonder how far the blood could had flown from there and where the bodies had been thrown, if this entire part of town is built on bloody ground etc. it really gave me massive creeps.

a few years later (which would be a few months ago, when i moved in to the room where i live presently) i happened to land a conversation about ghosts with my new flatmate. turns out she also used to live in those neighbourhoods, in an apartment on the third floor literally overlooking the cemetary, but on celciusgatan, which would be the next street over from döbelnsgatan (see map). and she told me, without me having said anything at all about all of this, that that part of town including her apartment has always been haunted. she used to see a shadow of a man through frosted glass doors, moving around in rooms that were closed when both she and her son and her sister were in the kitchen. she didnt experience any malice however, and also had someone come check it out for her, but apparently she just had nice ghosts. but we agreed that yeah, these buildings are literallty inbetween a cemetary and the gallows; there are probably bound to be a lot of lost souls wandering around.

this could also be over-analyzing it, but if you draw lines from the cemetary to the site of the executions to döbelnsgatan/celciusgatan, it makes a perfect triangle. while googling the translation of ‘döbeln’ just now it says right in the wikipedia description that it is located ‘somewhat in the middle of a triangle, made up by three cities’. coincidence, perhaps. probably. but still. by now im pretty conviced of anything that could hold any significance about all of this.

the painting

later on, maybe by a few months, and C tells me when i get home from work that he had woken up that day, after i went to work, from the painting atop of his big secretaire/chiffonier/bookcase (its really a big piece of heavy furtinure, but lets call it bookcase just to be simple) coming crashing down behind it. that painting had stood there since january, at least 9-10 months, and had not fallen down ONCE. it was leaning against the wall, perched safely and steady on the bookcase, with at least a centimeter bookcase until the gap between wall and furniture. i remember thinking last time i looked it was covered in dust because no one even as much as dusted that thing off, and there had been no weird vibrations in the walls that would have shook it either. by this point we’re both very, very uncomfortable in this apartment.

the painting and the hollow in the wall

and here comes the final thing that happened before he moved out, the part that we have on film. ill have to ask my ex for the footage if anyones interested in it, which is fine.

C was doing a collaboration with some people on instagram, an educational account about depression, self-harm, anxiety and such. they gave him the assignment to film himself talking about personal experiences, i think they wanted maybe 13 videos or something like that, the theme being ‘death’ (those videos are still up, im unsure if they posted this one as it kind of strayed from the mental health stuff a bit, but i know C has it still). so at this time - maybe september or october? i really dont know exactly when this was, i could probably scroll on their instagram account but im too lazy - he was filming himself a lot. so, he brought up the painting crashing, and filmed us both while demonstrating how it physically could not have moved and crashed down behind the bookcase because of the way it stood on top of it. it would have been one thing if it fell forward, but then it would have landed on its front and fallen in front of the bookcase, probably shattered the glass. but it fell BEHIND it. on camera, you can see my hands pushing on it to demonstrate the way it went down into that snug space inbetween. you would have had to physically push on it, at least a centimeter back, from the front. so for some reason, i get the very random idea to knock on the wall behind it. which means, i stand in the corridor and knock on the corridor wall that divides the bedroom from the hallway. and i swear to god, this is ON FILM. i knock all over the wall and its all concrete - except for THE SPOT EXACTLY BEHIND THE FUCKING PAINTING. the wall is hollow. right behind the painting. where it stood leaned against on the other side. i cant explain why i all of a sudden tried knocking all over the wall, or why the actual fuck there is a hollow square in the middle of the corridor wall, but that really fucked us up. there were just too many weird coincidences, you know.

like, all of this happened, or seemed to be centered around, the corridor. as if our hallway was some nexus for supernatural activity. and with that hollow thing, it was like it was starting to make its way into the bedroom, you know? unsettling.

thankfully, C moved out of there in december and we didnt have to stay there anymore, but i sometimes pass by and think about asking the current tenant or the neighbours if they experienced anything strange. its just so eerie. the mimicking parts were the scariest to me, and i get chills thinking about them and reading it even now.

so, thats my long, long overdue creepy encounter. i am VERY aware i sound insane but, hey. what can i do. i am not one for lying and i know that so thats all that matters tbh. i have other encounters as well, but living in that apartment takes the fucking cake.

#creepy #creepypasta #creepypodden #haunting #jesus what do i even tag this with #horror story #also sorry im too tired to double check my english so there are probably some errors in there

[qscvgyum]

traditional performance

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Some people don't have that nike air max thea atomic pink mentality, but I do, I'm trying to break something on your ass. You also can use some dumbbells.. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. NO NO NO don't start this is what the law was going to force businesses to do. Like a dream come true, Aponte said. Each of the Nine Free Cities had its bank, kimono long femme grande taille and some had more than one, fighting over every coin like dogs over a bone, but the Iron Bank was richer and more powerful than all the rest combined. Composting a ton of food , so Compost Cab would need to collect and compost 330 tons of food yearly to be carbon neutral. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. John lived on the West Coast and was a real estate agent who did pretty well in the dot com bull market trading stocks until the market met its maker. He got more and more drunk, and became very maudlin, almost lachrymose. There is no doubt when you play basketball that you are getting some benefit from it. You fools are so fortunate to assemble and worship your delusional invisible master without threat of death, yet you show disrespect and disdain for your very own ancestors who sacrificed paving the way for your legal protection and rights. If so, Obara’s return to the hall must have been vinegar in the wound. I think that why tap really spoke to me the most because I felt like I could be so free. We must speak quite frankly; talk till we reach some conclusion, and I hope that this time you will thoroughly understand me. I like this type of atmosphere."Trahey liked the situation he was in after Robert Iacobelli led off the fifth with a single, Davis Feldman reached base on an error and Nick Plummer loaded the bags with a walk. "I'm just giving my muscles a break between cross country and indoor track and disco duro externo pita luckily I'll be able to still keep building up my endurance before we really get into the nitty and gritty of track," Annie Imhof said. AIR a t pense pour amliorer la vie et le rangement en mini. Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. “The maid tells it true,” declared a stocky man in white and purple, whose cloak was fastened with a pair of crossed bronze keys. Appropriate to the theater's retrospective sensibility, Guare closed the season with a play, Lake Hollywood, that is simultaneously his newest and one of his oldest.. As usual, I left my crew in the dinner hole while I made the required gas and air checks. He bowed on the same spot where Stalwart Shield had lain in death not long before. Cause I decide to work and get educated while studying. ‘My friends,’ says he, ‘if you know of anything that will make a brother’s heart glad, run quick and tell it; but if it is something that will only cause a sigh, ‘bottle it up, bottle it up!’ O, I often tell my children, ‘Bottle it up, bottle it up!’”. Aldouri Mohammed said the coalition's use of depleted uranium is to blame for the health problems of American veterans. “All day and all gioco cubo di rubik amazon night, might be even longer,” insisted one big, black-bearded archer with a Cerwyn axe sewn on his breast. Was that six years ago, or seven? Summer was a fading memory, and it had been three years since Asha last enjoyed a peach. Compared to Giro's top tier race shoe, the Factress Techlace (which gets a higher grade carbon sole) the Raes is about 40g heavier and considerably oakley m frame ice iridium less expensive (The Factress is $350 on Competitive Cyclist). The Army Academy side took to the field and showed that playing ability, physicality and flair run through all the Army sides and that a true strength in depth exists in Army Rugby League. Momentum kept building as fears grew that owners will seek radical changes in the length and value of nike sb prod x contracts next summer when the league's collective bargaining dolce gabanna adidași bărbații agreement expires. When she left work Thursday, Bogle was wearing a neon yellow shirt, blue jeans and black Air Max shoes with pink on the sides.The sheriff's office says Bogle drives a dark green 2003 Oldsmobile Alero four door. Hunt says the three of them were blessed to be put in a good spot where Gunnar was able to pick on Garver's odor. Leaving Volantis, the cog had sailed within sight of land at first, so Tyrion could gaze at passing headlands, watch clouds of seabirds rise from stony cliffs and crumbling watchtowers, count bare brown islands as they slipped past. The death and destruction at dizzying speeds makes Fast Furious 7 looks like a sedate Sunday afternoon drive.. “My lady.” Theon could not bring himself to call her Arya and dare not call her Jeyne. Haggard and Curtis Huff (55.2); 3, Steve Nord, Sam Davis, Dick Dobkins and Max Hahne (55.4). One of the Freys stepped forward, a knight long and lean of limb, clean-shaved but for a grey mustache as thin as a Myrish stiletto. You can't replicate this moment," his son told the Detroit Free Press. Took it to mean something light, refreshing. Stowe has done much to draw from him those concessions; and the putting forth of this “most invulnerable moral panoply,” that has just come into his head as a bulwark of safety for slavery, owes its impetus to her, and other like efforts.

[mauveviolet]

Plssssss write Elio and Oliver years down the road meeting up again, Elio is a student st the same university Oliver teaches at and I need a lot of angst in my life, slowwwww burn. Pretty pretty please

AN: Here it is, the prologue of a PROJECTED 10 chapters. Might be more might be less! Sorry this took so long! this has not been Beta'd, sorry for any mistakes! Please enjoy, anon! And yes, i stay consistent with a chosen last name for Oliver, haha."Concrete Trees" -Prologue"Mama. Mama, I said I’m fine.”I spin in my rolling chair idly as the cellular takes up the broad of my hand. I catch the foggy, almost mundane grey light outside of my apartment window one, two, three times before I come to a sudden halt with the skid of a sock, and I stand up dizzily. “I miss you to, Mama. But it’s only been a few days, you must at least try to last the semester. Just this one, okay?” She mumbles.I bounce on my toes over the boxes that scatter my floor. Porcelain keepsakes pile in one with paper wrapped securely around them while in the other clothes seem to reach the ceiling. The ultimate privilege to nabbing my own apartment in New York as a student was the ability to make my own messes. I’m an adult, I told mama, she has nothing to worry about in terms of keeping the place neat and tidy, and while I’m sure I will, some of the things she doesn’t know won’t kill her.“I’ll be home for Hanukkah, I’m sure I’m not the only one here who’s far from home in a place like this. Maybe you should get together with a mom from Germany who sent her son away to New York, too.” I giggle as I rip my phone from my ear abruptly to keep from her cries from hitting me to loudly. “I’m just joking. This was 100% my choice and you know that. We’ve been through this hundreds of times. Everything will be alright, I’ll find another 22 year old who’s too far from home somewhere around here. Maybe they’ll be from Italy.”I pad over to my large window that poses as a portal to what seems like an alternate reality, one with cars in every free centimeter of the hot pavement and people of every race and religion wandering the street aimlessly. If i looked a little too far to my right, I’d be peering straight into someone else's apartment, which doesn’t sit in my stomach well, so I opt to keep my right curtain closed, both for my privacy and the mystery person both feet from me yet, in the grand scheme of things, so far away. I’ve never been so far in the air in my life, minus that dreadful plane ride, if you can even call it that. It’s a huge death tube, I think, but the others around me treated it as if it was normal. The conversation lasts for what seems like hours. Some “highlights” being my grocery list, how much money I’llnspend on tourism in the next year, all those fun things. But at least by the time our talk has ended, my apartment is less of an apartment and moreso a home. The ambiance is red and orange to match the lamp in the corner, there’s a little couch and TV set by a rug all my own, and shelves upon shelves of books I couldn’t emotionally bare to leave in Italy stand at the walls, along with pictures of my family at every corner.“Oliver went to Columbia,” my mama says, finally. Lastly.I swallow. I know Oliver went to Columbia. I pretend I haven’t thought about that so many times it’s burnt a hole through my skull.“Yeah, I know. Last time I spoke to him he said he said he, uh,” I pull on my shirt collar.“Went to work at another school. In another state. Illinois, I think.”“When was the last time you spoke to Oliver, Elio?” I feel the heaviness of the curious pity within her voice like one feels lead pass through their bloodstream. Unfavorable… in the least. “I’m going out, mama. I need to eat in the next week, I should get started on those groceries.”The pause, that evidently only lasts a moment, drags on until she finally responds.“I love you, Elio. Stay safe.”“Always, mama. I love you too.”After deciding it was to humid to shove a jacket over my shoulders and trudging outside in just a black shirt and jeans, I ask myself as I sit on a damp park bench with paper grocery bags sat politely next to me, if I am forcing myself to think about Oliver rather than if it is worth it to think about him. The past was the past when I was in Italy and the past remains the same in Manhattan, but I feel his energy in everything that moves; I feel something coercing me into the thought of him. Life here is chaotic and beautiful. I learned that from Oliver, and because at 17 his worlds mended to me as words do at that age, he lives in the bleeding red light fractured through the water on my eyelashes. He lifts the cruelty from honks and yells of frustrated and busy people. I’m unsure if it’s comforting or not.I decide that due to the increasing rain (and my sheer stupidity in not correlating humidity with storms) that it’s time to aquate myself with the New York subway system, as reluctant as I am. Hands full and swerving around people left and right, I realize how crowded and cluttered it is, but it’s also so exciting to see such a staple in culture unlike mine. Oliver must have rode these everyday before he received a car. I’m riding a mile or two in his shoes.I wait for the subway, now. I shuffle my ticket between my fingers, pressed to the wall furthest from the track ledge. I had taken one glimpse of that sickening fall and had eagerly conjoined myself the furthest thing from it, as if nowhere was far enough to keep myself from falling in.There's a boy a foot away from me, but he stands in front of the ledge. No fear consumes him as it does to me. His leg jitters in a pair of huge sneakers and off white jeans (maybe coveralls?), shrouded in a soft flannel and a green bookbag covered in mini pins and keychains, one that looks like a row of hanging dice on rainbow beads that spell “Percy.” One says Columbia on it- in fact, multiple do. A returning student.How much older is he than me? From behind he looks no different than me; curly brown hair but cut short, a little taller but just as thin. His head swivels left and right eagerly, as if the Eastbound train will emerge from the Eastern terminal. He’s not afraid of the ledge because, like a seasoned New Yorker, the ledge has gotten to know him.I find it peculiar that I think so hard about strangers, but sometimes you can tell so little about a person by how they look and you’re forced to sit and wonder. I knew all about Oliver and even yet, I still sit and wonder so strongly about him.Where was this boy from? Was he American? European? Or maybe Canadian? I’d never met a Canadian, but I hear the land is a conglomerate of Ireland's fields and New York’s buildings. Some canadians speak a french many would say is “botched” though I’ve never really heard it, and some of the more interesting ones speak english like I’ve never heard before. It’d be cool to meet a Canadian.When the train pulls up, the station comes alive again as people scramble to catch a seat and they squeeze through the doors. He’s the first one in, but I let the mass push through; I don’t mind standing. I hobble through to one of the only handles left, near the back of the subway car. To my disdain there is a couple here displaying affection I wouldn’t call publically appropriate, and an older man already passed out asleep. If i stretch on my tip-toes, I can hear a saxophone playing on the other side of the train but only barely see the player. However, my eye catches the boy again. I notice now how freckles fleck the entire surface area of his face and glasses frame his cheeks. He plays a gameboy with concentration I’ve only seen in my father, which is a feat. At the first stop, that concentration fades, and he notices my staring. Instead of being weirded out (as, admittedly, I would be) he hesitantly motions for me to sit in the spot next to him now unoccupied. I accept, placing my bags on my lap and crossing my legs, making a point not to stare at him more than I already have. But curiosity gets the best of me. “You… you go to Columbia?”He looks at me, almost surprised that I had actually opened my mouth.“Yeah… why?”“I’m a first year.”“A freshman?”I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, that.” He boots his Gameboy up again. “I’m assuming you aren’t American. You look like a deer caught in headlights.” He’s extremely casual for someone I wouldn’t have met had I not stared at him so indecently. “Italian. But my father is American. I’ve never been here though, so, yeah… Italian.” “What brings you to Columbia then? No good Italian schools? What’s your major?”I didn’t know what to expect when I sat next to this boy, but I can’t say I’m surprised. “Double major in Anthropology and Philosophy, and a minor in Music.” He still doesn’t raise his head from his game. “That’s a real boatload. I’m just doing Integrated Technologies and a minor in education.”“Education? You want to be a professor? My father is a professor, he did the same things I’m doing actually.”“I’d love to be a highschool teacher.”I visibly gulp at the sound of that. I can’t imagine having to stay any longer than I did in a school full of sweaty teenagers. Hell, I was one once, I don’t think I’d want to go back.“Oh, uh,” he interjects.“I actually know what professor you’re likely to have if you’re completing an anthropology major.”“Hm?”“Yeah, he’s quite strict in how things are taught according to my buddies, but it’s the sign of a good teacher. He loves when people interact with him in class; he hates a boring class. He won’t have it. But don’t goof off…I don’t know much- anything, about you, so I don’t know how you’ll fare with that. I wouldn’t be quiet if you were in his class but don’t be slack.”He sounds like an okay guy. I’ll be with people like me, it seems. “What’s his name?”“Professor Bishop. You’ll know him when you see him. Tall, blonde, and stubbly. Younger than most of the professors. You’ll know him when you see him.” My face goes Appalachians snow white and a stack of apples are moments away from hitting the subway floor. “What’s his first name?”“Uh, I’m not sure. Ollie? Owen? Oliver- Yeah, that’s it. Oliver… You okay dude?”

[fordarkisthesuede]

JOURNAL 3 BLACKLIGHT EDITION REVEALED! (Part 2)

Time to come back where we left off last - GHOSTS! I know you ain’t afraid!

Ghosts!:  [All the ghosts in this section glow. Nice touch!] Underneath a photo of a stereotypical ghost it says “Written on a tombstone:  Man once thought that death’s release offered a permanent peace. But these ghouls, bold and hearty, prove that there’s an after-party.” I don’t know whose tombstone that was, but damn, I want that as my epithet too.

Category 1:  “Ugh! I thought I ditched this guy at Dan’s cabin, but he has followed me home! Just go away, YOU ANNOYING LITTLE CREEP!!!!! No, I don’t want to bake brownies and have a tickle fight! How does that even make sense?! You have no body to tickle!!”

Category 1 adjacent page: “Discovery! Apparently, shining a black light on ghosts results in crypto-translucence, revealing the secret horrors within! Never invite a ghost to a rave. This one is scarier than I realized!” I dunno, Ford, I still think it’s cute! He’s like a little skeleton baby! Aww!

Category 10: “PRAY FOR MERCY!” [There is a drawing of a thin man in glasses over the cloaked spectre. It’s very underwhelming.] “I saw this category 10 once more, but this time I had my black light handy! Not so scary without his cloak! This guy should spend less time reaping and more time at the gym!” Ford…do you go to the gym? (I kinda assumed Ford didn’t start getting buff until he hopped dimensions…) Still I’m pretty sure that his ghost-powers could kill you, you know…

Edit: Forgot to add - the “What Does it MEAN?” page has all the creatures + the question mark glow!

Edit:  I missed a page here previously (they stuck together):

Right page of Truth Teeth: “NEW DISCOVERY! That abnormally hairy mailman doesn’t deliver mail on the full moon! And unlike most mailmen, he seems to get no harassment from barking dogs. Does this mean what I think it means? I may need to load up on silver bullets just in case.” 

Guess Soos was right after all!

THE LAPTOP’S PASSWORD WAS STANFORD. I CAN’T BELIEVE MY FLIPPIN’ EYES.

“These secret messages written using my black light technique are hidden so well that even my most determined enemy won’t be able to find them! (Except for maybe the bumblebeast, a honey-hunting mutant bee with eyes that can see every kind of light on the spectrum.)” [The bumblebeast resembles a scowling mutant bi-pedal bee with tiny wings and one pair of big beefy arms (and a smaller insect pair beneath them)] “STAY AWAY FROM MY HONEY!” Don’t bogart your honey, Ford.

There’s also something unusual that I have to point out – on that same page, there seems to be a sort of…maze like drawing. If you turn it sideways, it looks like a factory. I THINK LETTERS ARE HIDDEN IN IT? I’ll into it later on.

The Codes page:  It actually tells you the cryptogram and meaning of each kind! Cool!!!

But then, of course, there’s something secret on the bottom of the page. A vinegere cipher with the key TRICKY. “The most impossible thing to decode is human social behavior.” [my picture of this was poor and I could not make one better. I’m sorry.]

The Plaidypus! “How to catch a plaidypus:

Dig a hole, fill it with sawdust and/or ham.

Make a plaidypus mating call. It sounds exactly like a bearded man’s deep hearty laugh. You may need to wait until after puberty for this step.

When the plaidypus falls intot he hole, throw pine needles at his face. This will make him sneeze hard enough to shed his pelt.

He will be frightened at this point. Hug him tenderly for an hour to get him to calm down. Kiss his forehead if necessary.

Release! You now have a plaidypus pelt! Perfect for warm jackets, warm socks, or warm tea cosies, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Ok first off FORD, it’s spelt “cozies”. Secondly, what do you have against them??? They keep tea hot and drinkable! Mine has kitties on it. It keeps my Bill Teapot all nice and toasty, even in the winter.

Island Head Beast page:  “Head of household? I don’t think so…” [Shows a masculine island head with a pipe and newspaper and a frustrated scowl; a feminine head with old-fashioned hair-curlers and an androgynous younger head are seeming to yell harshly at him.] 

Island Head adjacent page:  “F’s x-rays of the lake revealed this family of horrifying heads dwelling underneath the surface. Although their words are indecipherable, their unhappy marriage is clear in any language.” Pointing at the glowing heads is the caption “More refugees from the weirdness dimension.”

So, question – is this Ford’s interpretation of what they look like based off the x-rays? Or is it an accurate reproduction? We may never really know…

The Hide Behind page:  has “LOOK BEHIND YOU” spread all across the page, with glowing footprints leading to the drawn pair. :)

Cow Circles page: “I’VE DONE IT! I’VE CRACKED THE CODE! By arranging the cows together, I discovered that their interlocking symbols created a message! According to my knowledge of alien hieroglyphics, the message reads “Come to Glarbo’s Intergalactic House of Pancakes & Weapons! Come for the breakfast, stay for the dark matter hypercannons!” So, that’s it. An alien pancake house. The thought that Earth is being used for extraterrestrial advertisement depresses me deeply.”

Radioactive barrel/The Memory Gun pages: “He used It on me! I’m certain! Memories are returning of my assistant using the ray on himself, then zapping me to cover up his actions!” 

[There’s a glowing doodle of Ford’s head being zapped by the gun.] “I’ve had dreams of F wearing a red hood, watching me from the shadows. What if those weren’t dreams?! I believe he hired construction workers to help him build the portal, then erased their memories to keep the job secret! And erased mine, too, so that I wouldn’t chide him for taking the risk! This is all my fault! I should have DESTROYED this GUN WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!”

The Palm Reader:  “The fortune teller was right about everything. I should have looked at the cards more closely when I had the chance! These were the ones I remembered. Something was so strange about them… As thought they were showing me something I wasn’t yet ready to see….”

[I hope you can see this page, because it’s AWESOME. Four people are drawn over the cards shown – Waddles, Mabel, Dipper, and Wendy. Above that, there are two cards, one of Mayor Tyler, and another mysterious one that I can’t make out. Below all this is five cards – Gideon, Robbie, Soos, Pacifica, and Gompers. It’s an amazing sight:

Waddles – Time & Space

Mabel – The Sun

Dipper – The Moon

Wendy – Death

Soos - Justice

Gideon – The Magician

Robbie – The Fool

Pacifica – The Empress

Gompers – Judgement

Mayor Tyler – [UNKNOWN]

The “mysterious card” seems to be Old Man McGucket, as evidenced by his bandaged foot. It’s literally all we can see of it, though.]

See you in Part 3!

[Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3]

#gravity falls #journal 3 #spoilers #journal 3 blacklight #long post #J3 Blacklight Reveal #J3 Blacklight Reveal Part 2

[marshallawake]

41 Days

Day 1:

I notice an aching dryness in my leg. I scratch at it all day without giving it much thought.

  I had strange dreams that my left foot kept breaking through the ground like a finger through a dead leaf. I woke up sweating and scratching my leg, which was prickling with a feeling that made me think of pepper flakes or ants—though it was not in any real pain. I turned on the light to look at it. There was a small square-shaped area of raised flesh, slightly red around the edges. I traced it with my finger and studied it. The area itself didn't hurt and was in fact was quite numb, but the aching "dry" feeling persisted. I went back to sleep and thought to check on it in the morning.

      Day 2:

I snap out of sleep from some kind of dream and sit up quickly to check my leg, which is pretty much the same as the night before.

  The wind today gave me chills and was particularly irritating.

  A co-worker passed by me at work and said that I didn't seem to hear. I may have nodded or mumbled something at him.

  When I get out of the shower my left leg feels odd and off-balance. I figure that maybe the hot water had irritated it, so I examine it again on my bed. It looks to have darkened around the edge and the whole thing has become more pronounced. The small square area within the redness seems shinier and more pale than before, but there's no real change in how it feels.

After I dry off, though off my whole leg itches slightly. I'm very conscious not to scratch it, though I do catch myself starting to do so several times and have to stop myself.

  Weird dreams, but no specific recollection of any of them.

      Day 3:

My leg feels really strange; off-balance. I notice a few more vague lines of redness and the dry ache has mellowed out but spread further throughout my leg. I am going to have to go to the doctor on Monday. My left arm is also itching. I realize that I haven't said a word all day.

  Sleep has been weird but uneventful.

      Day 4:

I had a dream this morning that I vaguely remember. In it I was trying to clean a room (mine?) and my hands were covered with a slick, fine dust. I looked up and there was a large moth flying in circles around the upper perimeter of the room and the dust from its wings was falling and getting on my hands, making them too slick to pick anything up. At times it would disappear into the air vent and I could hear it slamming around and I rushed around trying to get as much work done as I could before it came back. My friend (who's stuff I was moving?) appeared briefly and I asked him about the moth, to which he replied "Him? He belongs here."

  I didn't do much today. My leg was feeling odd and I just kind of sat around. I don't remember much other than the fact that it was windy outside which it made it hard for me to concentrate.

      Day 5:

The wind kept me up last night. I felt mildly feverish and I kept drifting in and out of sleep with the word "kindling" stuck in my head.

Sometime after I woke up I pulled up my pant leg and looked at my leg. The whole thing now looked like a grid of soft red lines. I decided that even though I feel fine I should really make sure to call the doctor on Monday just to be on the safe side.

I realized today that I haven't taken a shower for three days, and I have been wearing the same clothes since then. I have also noticed that I have had little to no appetite and also, as I was reflecting upon this, I realized that I can't even remember myself so much as drinking a glass of water for at least the past couple of days. This was startling but I figured that I have felt fine aside from my leg being slightly uncomfortable and my memory over the past few days has been a little foggy, so something as normal as eating or drinking could easily be glossed over and it would probably be harder to recall something so routine in great detail if nothing about it was particularly unusual about it. I'll make sure to be very deliberate about monitoring how I feel over the next few days just to make sure nothing is slipping under the radar until I can get myself to the doctor.

      Day 6:

I don't remember when I woke up. My knee feels stiff and the 'unbalanced' feeling seems to have intensified some, but I feel okay. I feel as if I have been moving faster and more clumsily. Not much to report today other than the red lines having darkened on my leg and more seem to be forming on my arm, which is still itching slightly and feels odd as well; not unlike my leg. Some of the little areas within the grid on my leg have become hard and slightly raised (like bumps) but they feel fine. I've been trying not to mess with it too much. I slept and stared and stayed inside.

      Day 7:

I wake from sleep and lay in bed for a long period of time with no desire to look at my body.

      Day 8:

I had a dream of a small cave in which the walls were covered with all kinds of holes like the surface of a sponge or Swiss cheese. They were all different sizes; some were wide and round and some were too small to fit your fist through and some went so far back that I couldn't see the end of them. I was carrying an apple core and couldn't find a place to put it. I rolled around a lot and kept waking up.

      Day 9:

I noticed a series of soft bumps on my arm today. Much like the ones on my leg, the spots between the red lines have been raised and hardened almost like scales. I looked at my leg and it seems that some of the hardened areas of the grid have begun to separate along the lower edges of the lines, forming tiny slits. Surprisingly there is no blood and they are not yet wide enough to see beyond the skin, but I have a certain sense of calm inside me that tells me not to mess with or touch my leg, so I decided to leave it at that.

I can feel little ridges on my chest but did not look.

      Day 10:

Things are becoming more pronounced. The 'grid' is spreading, I can feel the lines on different parts of my body.

      Day 11:

The grid spreads

      Day 12:

The grid spreads

      Day 13:

The grid has reached many parts of my body now. I felt a hollow in my chest today (where the dry ache is currently residing) that caught my attention. It left both my leg and my arm some time ago and seems now to be more prominent and nagging than before.

      Day 14:

No dreams, but thoughts of wind have become typical. They are non-specific but their presence is known. Regular sleep has given way to a persistent, continuing light-sleep that has no discernible beginning or end.

      Day 15:

....

      Day 16:

The feeling in my chest is fading and has moved to other areas of my body where I'm assuming more lines have formed. The ache is softer now and almost comforting.

      Day 17:

A light continuing sleep...

      Day 18:

....

      Day 19:

....

      Day 20:

Itching increases on all parts of the body. I scratch constantly and my skin flakes heavily.

    Day 21:

....

      Day 22:

I found myself with my eyes open in bed for I don't know how long. The scratching on my leg was constant and suddenly a shock of sensation shoots through me as my fingernail catches the lip of a slit in a section of grid just to the left of my shin, causing it to bend upward like a flap.

My heart raced as I looked down at the flap of dried, rigid skin sticking out from my leg. I paused for a long time and watched the angle at which it protruded subside slowly as it bent back down again and rested flush against my leg. Strange feelings stirred within me. I leaned forward and pried the flap up again very slowly with my finger, causing another startling sensation. I sat frozen for a moment, reeling. I leaned back and strange thoughts coursed through me.

  That night I had thoughts of broken cisterns filled with dust and dry, sand-rotted framework.

      Day 23:

....

      Day 24:

....

      Day 25:

More sections of the grid have lifted and separated along their outer edges, now hanging in 'shingles' from my body.

    Day 26:

....

      Day 27:

Examining...I stuck my finger into the opening underneath a flap in my chest and moved it around. I hooked the finger in and pressed it out through the opening of the flap next to it. I repeated this on several other parts of my body. Inside each was hollow and connected to the next. It's something I must have already known.

      Day 28:

....

      Day 29:

My skin now hangs almost completely in small, jutting slats and any contact with fabric or textured surfaces becomes strange and unbearable. I am unable to lie down for fear of the sensation of the surface pressing and scraping against the edges of the hanging scales. I try to reduce movement.

Sleep-state is a slow, continuous leak and awareness is muddled and constant.

      Day 30:

....

      Day 31:

I run my hands lightly over my skin in slow, downward motions. This causes the edges of the skin to become thicker, and for the rigid flaps to rest against them hinged slightly open. This is repeated continuously.

      Day 32:

....

      Day 33:

....

      Day 34:

Sensitivity has increased. The slightest breeze in my present space and I can feel it move throughout my body, whispering against its dry inner walls.

Thoughts of wind.

      Day 35:

Premonitions of wind whistling through the hollow of my body. A dream of being outdoors.

My breathing is reed-thin and wooden and my throat opens and closes like a soft, powdered sock. Waiting.

      Day 36:

....

      Day 37:

Outside, a sudden gust of wind sends all flaps bending back like shingles on a rooftop and the wind comes roaring in, sending dust swirling and stinging through my framework. The beams creak and stretch and the whole structure groans, moaning...

      Day 38:

....

      Day 39:

....

      Day 40:

....

      Day 41:

....

[slyni-sparklyeyeshadow-blog]

*Sparkly Eyeshadow*

So, my day started a few hours later than everyone providing a service to the world. Right now, I am in grad school and it has taken its toll on me. Always tired, always stressed, and always (sometimes) studying. My anxiety has been off the charts since starting grad school. It's so not my personality.. so serious. At least during my one-year in the real working world without having mom and dad rescue me at rent-time, I was always around people talking, laughing, and throwing coworker frenemies under the bus when the boss got mad. Now, I am around classmates a few hours a dayor 30 ten-year-olds 40 hours a week. It's really hard to find a happy medium. Emphasis on the happy.

This morning, I hit snooze for an hour per usual and end up waking up at 8:30 instead of 7:30 to finish my paper that I was supposed to start last night. But my gosh, have you seen the Instagram Explore page? Sign me up for a perfect bod, unlimited cash flow, and a travel agent with a keen eye for exotic places.

 My point exactly. Already off track. I wake up and do my ten minutes of quiet time before anything else. *Alright, Ashlee.* I think. *You can do this.*

I get started and am amazed at how I rip through my first paragraph and how bomb my thesis is. Then I zip through the second paragraph and only ten minutes has passed by. I've realized I'm starving and my head is hurting because I have no coffee at the apartment. *Nope, not moving until you get this paper turned in.* So I'm typing and text my boyfriend good morning. Then I check to see if I have any Facebook and Insta notifications. And OH MY WORD I look terrible this morning! Need to wipe the coconut oil off before I Snap anyone. I wonder what filters there are today...

*Focus, Focus, Focus*

Back to the paper. It's fairly easy. At around 10:15 I get stuck because I am so hungry and am so mad at myself because I only have two paragraphs left. I talk myself into going to the Shell Station right around the Corner where I am pretty sure they think I live in the dumpsters with the cats. I look TERRIBLE when I go in there. Usually no make-up, hair pulled back, and my white vans that have more brown on them. I go. Today, I choose Java Monster because the Dunkin' Donuts Coffee I am obsessed with is 90 more calories than my 200 calorie Java Monster and Regina George and I really wanna lose 3 lbs. Like it really matters once I get a Peanut Butter Crunch Cliff bar... which is gone before I return to my apartment within walking distance.

So then I think to myself... it's almost 11. You have an appointment at 1. Why don't you just hop in the shower and fix up today? You look terrible. It'll do yourself some good. Maybe your head will even quit hurting. So I hop in and am already feeling like a productive person that will one day contribute to society. I get out and start my eye make up. *Remember this is the doctor, Ashlee. No silver metallic. Just white sparkles.*

 I line them and paint them and cannot find my eyeliner sharpener. Pretty sure I threw it away after sharpening a pencil and convincing myself that I would get lead poisoning if I sharpened my eyeliner in there, too. So the eye liner could be better today. *Just remember thin lining on top.* 30 minutes has passed by and I realize I need to get with it and this is the doctor's office on a Wednesday at 1:00 pm. Not New Year's Eve in Time Square. So I try to do my foundation "natural" and this means mixing a Mac foundation with Estee Lauder's DoubleWear Foundation. That's easy. Ain't no brown spots seen through that stuff. I blow dry my unruly hair made better with It's a 10 Keratin treatment and BOOM! Lightening strikes my car. Swear. My car alarm is going off. For some odd reason I hide in my closet a second and realize it is lightening. Not a tornado. Either way,  I think my reasoning was because I was far away from windows. Then the weekly panic phone call to mom goes through.

*Mother*

Yes, Ashlee.

*I think lightening struck my car.*

What?

*Like lightening just struck over the apartment and now my car alarm is going off. I think it hit my car.*

Oh, well it could have been the sound from the thunder was so loud, Ashlee. That happens. I don't think lightening would hit your car it's grounded with rubber tires.

*I'll check after the storm. If I touch my car will it shock me?*

No, Ashlee. It won't.

*K, bye. Love you.*

Love you.

 I show up to the doctor's office in white linen pants even though we may have multiple tornadoes today and got there 30 minutes early because my doctor has moved offices and I know finding this office will be like the blind leading the blind. If I know me, I'll find the nicest, youngest looking millennial receptionist that shares my over-reliance of Google Maps and even though she works there every day, she will STILL lead me to a Parking Deck across the clinic and not my doctor's office. 34 minutes later, it is now 1:04, I find my doctor's new office. Another patient and I apparently didn't get a memo or preferred automated message to let us know the office was closed that day. Really? There is an unfinished paper icon sitting on my desktop. That's another phone call crying to mom today. Bless his heart, it would have called my boyfriend but he has heard me cry over the phone every day this week and I am trying to let him think I am having the best, most productive sunshine filled day as possible.

How unprofessional of my doctor! This girl with no current profession makes sure to leave her med school graduated physician a message deeming her unprofessional. I would have threatened to find a new doctor but she has 4 stars online and I decide to keep her. I'm sure she would be so relieved...

*Well half of your day is gone but you can still turn it around. Go to Barnes and Nobles so you can finish your paper around people and not by yourself in your dark room. I go to Barnes and Nobles... finish my paper and knock out two other assigned readings. YES. Just time to get distracted again.

My sister calls. The people in Barnes and Nobles now know my nephew had staph infection on his foot two weeks ago and that my doctor is a dill hole and I could "literally be dying. OMG." I get a lot of looks. Some sympathizing. Some dirty. And decide to go print out the 383874298 pieces of paper my professor e-mailed us. Who needs trees? Not like they give us oxygen or anything.. I drive to Fed-Ex because I broke my printer while Youtubing a video about how to insert the cartridge. Did I mention it starts hailing on my drive? No where to pull over.. whatever. Just drive through it... SLOWLY of course.

At Fed-Ex, one lady is annoyed I e-mailed them with so many attachments to print. Yes, she should be furious with me. They are providing a service and I am PAYING them for it. Thankfully this guy that always gives me free printouts is there. (Okay, that happened one time). I smile at the lady when he offers to help me to let her know that I'm a good paying customer and have built better relationships with her team than she has. APPARENTLY. She literally could care less even though I feel I have really socked it to her.

- That'll be $4.39, Miss *Insert My Last Name*

-thinking to myself * Wow, so glad he can read my gmail account name*

- ALOUD * How is that only four dollars? I printed like a million pages.*

- Well, I guess it could be less. * HE SMILES *

- thinking to myself * EWW. this is why you don't need to wear sparkly eye shadow. You totally send off the wrong message about your future aspirations. *

- I actually respond "Oh! Thank YOU!" He asks how my day goes and I immediately spill the beans about my car getting struck by both lightening and hail and he ensures me I can stay at FedEx as long as I need to.

- thinking to myself *GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!*

- I actually LAUGH and pretend I didn't hear him. "Thank you so much. Stay safe."

So I return to Barnes and Nobles in the hailstorm and continue to read while occasionally looking at the window. A security car has gone by a few times and the driver keeps making eye contact with me. *Really? Is this eye shadow so shiny he can see it through the window?* He keeps staring and I am actually mortified now even though he is supposed to keep all of us Summit Shoppers safe. Naturally, fearfully, I smile. Not a big one. You know, one of those smiles where they are supposed to understand they have no chance - a smile where you show no teeth and you squint your eyes weird. NOT FREAKING TODAY, BUDDY. YES, I SEE YOU AND THIS IS WEIRD. STOP. This is what I call TACT. COOTHE, as my mother has always called it. She says I need more of it. Boy, would I have made her proud today. Would've made up for one of my two panic phone calls...

A minute later, the security truck, not car, quickly comes to a halt in a nearby parking spot. He runs out.

*Oh my gosh. I hope no one has shoplifted a book. Some of the hard covered books are tempting because I want to read them but don't want to spend 30 dollars. I wonder what's going on? Is there a fire in the Starbucks? No, stupid. You are right here. There's no fire at the Starbucks. (Then I sniff the air) REALLY, there is no fire.*

"EXCUSE ME, MISS."

*OH SH*t* I think. Did I do something? Is he going to say he sees me leave the gas station around the corner with a brown bag in my hand way too much in front of all of these people?!?! I always wait until I get home. I would NEVER drink and drive!*

"I was just going to ask if you would like to KICK IT sometime."

*Relieved* Kick what? Oh HANG!

"Yeah, you know, hang out? Get coffee or something."

* thinks to myself, idiot we are IN a coffee shop. "Oh! Ha, I would but I've had a boyfriend going on 4 years now.* (I would NEVER. I have so much coothe...)

"Oh, dang. Well... I hope y'all break up."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I hope y'all break up! Can I still get your number?"

"No!"

"What about your name so I can look ya up on Facebook?"

* thinks to myself WELL MY pictures ARE CUTE..." "Yeah! It's Ashlee. a-s-h-l-E-E." *I put major emphasis on the last two letters of my name. ESPECIALLY THE LAST ONE. Just so he doesn't think there should be a Y there. Then, I give him my last name with major emphasis on the phonics so he gets it right.*

"Can I write on this?" Points to bottom of my homework.

"Oh yeah! There's nothing at the bottom." *He still writes my name wrong. Really? Even after that Alex Trebek phonics lesson? Maybe he won't find me now.*

"Okay and I'll leave you my number."

"I don't want-"

"Different area code."

"K, thanks." *I give the tactful smile with no teeth again to send the vibe that he needs to get gone.*

"I saw you through that window and thought THATS A BAD MAMA JAMA!" Apparently he didn’t catch my vibe. Why I hate coothe.

"HAHA... ohhh that's me!" *seriously, please leave before I cry.*

"Have a good day, Ashlee. Call me when you and your boy break up." I then realized he ripped exercise 4 off of my homework.

Umm, what just happened. He runs out to this Security Truck with Green lights on top still flashing. I see him out the window open his Facebook page. I just smile out the window at the events of my day and I start dying out laughing. People in Barnes and Nobles now think I wear too much sparkle eye shadow and cheat on my boyfriend. Good Lord. I quit laughing when I see the looks I'm getting. I wish I could give them all a tactful smile but am too embarrassed. Still can be petty in my head though. *Maybe yall should try sparkly eyeshadow, HATerS!*

[hotcocosharing]

Glory Days Part 13 (IM RP AU- Shun & Midi)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

Eriko’s POV

The hysterical yelling and venting ends quickly, leaving me and two new helpful strangers in dead silence hanging in the air, awkward, thick as glue. I tense up and try to rip my own face away from the shame with my hands rubbing my cheeks.

The smell of food ready in the auburn hair gentleman’s hand while the other in glasses helps to set the table, making themselves at home more than I do. Without thinking; I slide off the jacket and return it to one of them, announcing that I need a quick shower to feel human again.

A shower- that’s always a solution. A long, hot shower takes anything off my mind and whatever forgotten mess Midori and I had caused. If showering could make things go away, could undo our regrets or simply make a guy who thinks of me as a slut even to like me a tiny little bit,  I would not mind taking shower multiple times a day till my skin peels off.

Once in the flow of water, I am in no state to tell the difference between the tears streaming down my face and the pellets of water hitting from the shower head. I crouch down, palms to my face, letting the stream consume my still hungover and shameful form. This is pathetic- standing naked in the shower wondering whether or not I am nothing but a complete failure.

Downing the delicious food in one go so unladylike in front of the two boys whose names remain unknown to me is far from my concern since again, a handsome fella spoiling and cooking for me seem just too good to be true. My heart flutter as I remember his strong arms around my waist and sitting across me, another just as good looking with black framed glasses over his ashy gray eyes.

Am I getting lucky or is more trouble waiting round the corner?

After a short introduction and names exchange, Rikiya Mononobe- the one who scoops me up bridal style suggests to take me elsewhere for a change of scenery while Shinichi Kagari- pulls out a cigarette and kindly reminds me to change into some jeans or pants instead.

Feeling curious and impatient, I slip into a pair of hot shorts from the couch, tossing my dress out of the way, not caring if it offends the two hotties or not and spins around just as the white see through shirt covers my waist. “Good to go! Oh can we make a quick stop after whenever you’re taking me?”

Rikiya’s POV

Shinichi and I share perhaps the fifth grin since we have met the drunken girl that screams nothing but trouble, yet we love troubles. It wouldn’t be a wild guess to think that Eri must be crying her heart out in the shower after her friend exploding at her along with whatever crazy they’re into the previous night.

The girl deserves at least a decent meal and blows some steam of. With the three of us, I have no chance to show off my bike and arrive the place in a taxi within twenty minutes. Eri seems cheery and fearless- totally different from earlier, guess you really can’t just someone by its cover.

“Oh my gosh, batting cages!”

Watching comically as the petite brunette rolls her sleeves and I put an arm around her, resting her head against my shoulder then point to a sign up front when two confusing gazes stare at me.

“Couples Discount”

Shinichi gives me a screw you asshole look then pays at the cashier. We’re escorted to an open cage and got set up. Shinichi beats me first and gives her a general idea of what to do. He is always better with theories and explanation anyway, only if she isn’t bored to death.

When it is her turn, her legs are stiff and too close together with her hands in the wrong place. He steps in and corrects her, standing behind her with her back on his chest. I watch with my arms crossed, imagining the warmth of his body heat pressing against her thin shirt. Aiming my phone at them and snap a quick photo, I grin at the sly fox while his hands are placed on hers, instructing her before the first call comes flying to her face.

“Hey!” I distract them and propose Shinichi a challenge, “Wanna see who’s a better couch? Whoever wins get a date with Eri? If she’s interested, of course.”

Eriko’s POV

I haven’t had that much fun in a long time, one that requires no booze nor sex, the kind of pure joy that comes from doing something I enjoy, laughing over little things.

Watching the two seemingly close friends, I smile at how blessed I’m to have someone like Midori and decide to make the quick stop I’ve mentioned earlier. Back to the crime scene from last night send chills and weigh on my shoulders at the piercing glare of Mrs. Katayani, ex Mrs. Katayani. “I’m so sorry mam, it’s entirely my fault. Midori was only trying to cheer me up, she’s more than sorry for what happened. Please don’t be mad at her for what I did…”

“I’ll stop you right there, dear.” The woman I look up to cut me off with her hand in the air, “I appreciate your sincerity and apology but you are not the only one at fault, more over, you should think of the influence you have on Midi and re consider your living situation.”

Stumbling out of the boutique, I’m greeted by the two gentlemen again while one asks if we should go on our date now and leaves the other one behind.

Rikiya’s POV A lingerie shop? How interesting! Eriko hasn’t  responded to the question Shinichi’s asked after she’s stepped out so I figure as that to be my green light. Scooping her up into my arms again like I had only a few hours ago, it’s a quick ‘catch ya’ which his exchanged by expression rather than words as I continue to carry the girl down the street. ‘Fine - have it your way Mononobe; but tomorrow she’s mine and I plan on showing her everything she’ll be missing out on.’ We’re still in earshot when Shinichi manages to yell that out but there’s a hidden undertone of playfulness to his voice which I can’t help but laugh at. Eventually dropping the girl back down to her feet, I take her hand in my own and intertwine our fingers keeping her close to my side as our pace of walking slows down - as if there isn’t a rush or care in the world. “I’ve got no idea about anything that was going on before with the whole quick stop to the lingerie store but - really - I hope whatever’s bothering you.. you manage to sort out soon.” It’s a small smile which cracks on Eri’s face that I can’t help but chuckle at yet the smile quickly turns into a confused look of questioning as we stop in a back alley a 10 minute walk from where we are earlier; and I’m pulling open a hole in a fence asking her to step through. “You can’t be serious”, she tries to shake off my with a laugh, yet my hand does nothing more than gesture across my chest to point at the hole - the direction we’re taking. “Dead serious. Why… don’t you trust me?” The smirk on my face is quickly mimicked by hers and I take the liberty of checking out her ass as she crawls through; the perfect view as I follow on, taking her hand after fixing the fence and guiding us through the overgrown foliage out the back of an abandoned school. Although it’s mid-daylight outside, the building of the door I kick in with a swift knock just beneath the knob is dark, pitch black - this quickly changes though after reaching out for a light switch I’ve turned on under these conditions a few too many times and watch the lights flicker on along the roof beams of the old, run down gymnasium. “I figured you’d fancy a little time away from the rest of the world”, I point out, assisting Eri to step over some broken chairs and text books which have been abandoned for god knows how long until we get to the large, oversized pool I’ve been wanting to visit for a while. Riddle me crazy - I’m not sure how the water in a pool in a place that is seemingly abandoned manages to look so good, so calm, so inviting; but out of sight, out of mind and with no company at all - this place is perfect for letting off steam. Shoes kicked off along with socks, jeans dropped and shirt pulled over my head; in just my boxers without saying another word I drive straight under. It’s a few seconds that past before I emerge up to the surface and tread the tepid water. It’s a come hither motion I make which brings Eri by a few steps towards the edge. “What’s taking you so long? Jump in.” Midori’s POV A half hour after my slightly dramatic exit from the dorm, I return to find the door shut. Shit - just fucking great - I have no god damn key to open it. Slamming my body against the door a few times in the hopes of it flying open seems to have no effect apart from hurting my side and I start thinking of my other options. I could go back to my mothers store but that would involve her seeing her daughter as she had not that long ago - unshowered, makeup streaming down her face, in a shirt that I still don’t know who it belongs to… hmmm, no; I cross that option off my list immediately. There are girls who live next door to us but after knocking there, it seems like no one else is in and I can feel my stomach grumbling - I haven’t had anything in it apart from the alcohol from last night which is taking it’s toll on me. Now I have even less options - over processed lunch meat from the cafeteria or… …it’s a few minutes longer than expected to creep across the campus unnoticed to find myself standing in front of the boys dorm. Marvellous - not! Knocking at the door, I bite my bottom lip and beneath my breath pray that someone will let me in. “Hey….”, I hear from behind me, “What are you doing here?”

#who's behind her #Midori Katayani #Eriko Sato #Rikiya Mononobe #asa rikiya #asa fanfic #asa rp #asa role play #Shinichi Kagari #asa shinichi #Voltage oc x shinichi #voltage oc x rikiya #voltage oc x canon #voltage oc #voltage rp #voltage role lay #voltage inc rp #multi oc #multi oc rp

[dang-charlie-blog]

My breast reconstruction story

For many years on end ive wanted to remove my breasts, not only am I transgender but I also was developing breasts at a young age I've been wearing a bra daily since I was 9, by time I was 12 I was a 36C, by time I was 14 I was a 36G. I always hated my body and I would bind my chest daily for a year straight, double binding, using ace bandages when I didn't have a binder on hand, avoiding pools and beaches, and staying inside and avoiding going out due to the dysphoria I had of my chest. About a year ago, around 6 months after I started binding I decided to ask my doctor about getting a breast reduction with my parents agreeing on it. Every night I would rub icy hot on my back and sleep on a heating pad. I couldn't stand for longer than a hour without unbearable back pain and shoulder pain. I had indents in my shoulders where my bra straps laid. Red marks down my chest from straps, marks along my back and under my arms, terrible rashes under my breasts down to my belly button. It was itchy, red, and when I would sweat it had a very unique smell and the skin would litteraly peel off at the end of the day. When I laid on my stomach it caused discomfort, when I took off my shirt for my partner I would hide my breasts in embarrassment. They hung low, my nipples pointing down, flat as pancakes but thick enough to fit into a G cup bra. I would hide my chest during sex and often times keep my shirt on and hold them down, when I spread my arms out on my bed they would roll into my armpits. I was so ashamed of my body that I would self harm, I would cut along the top of my breasts leaving scars that would never truly go away. My breasts were ruining my life, my self love, and my ability to be in a stable relationship that I felt like I was enough to be in. Nobody once told me that they were ugly or disgusting, my hatred for them was always my own, and it was difficult to explain why I was so ashamed of my body. My doctor wrote a recommendation letter to insurance to cover the surgery, due to battling anorexia for several years I was quite thin, so I didn't have to lose weight for the surgery. Nobody at the time knew I was anorexic, I always blamed my beautifully thin body on being vegan. I met my surgeon doctor Landon Pryor not many months later, just after taking one look at the size of my breasts he recommended a reduction and reconstruction. I pleaded to be quite small, which he happily agreed would be the best for my personal case. A second appointment was scheduled and he took photos of me from every angle, his assistant spoke about insurance and scheduled the surgery for 5 months after the second appointment, the hospital I would be going to was Swedish American. When the surgery date finally came, I woke up excited and prepared, quite hungry from not eating since the day before. I walked into my mother's room happily awaiting my ride to the hospital, she informed me very hesitantly that my surgeon had called to inform her that he would not be performing the surgery as he was too sick to operate on that day. The surgery was postponed for another month. While I was quite hungry I will admit I did not eat much that day and slept away my disappointment. Soon enough the next month came by quite quickly, at this point I wasn't completely sure if the surgery was really going to happen after waiting so many months for it to happen, I followed the instructions the nurse gave me over the phone the day before and woke up on a empty stomach and my mother drove me to the hospital in my pajamas and once we got there and checked in I waited patiently for my boyfriend, Jay to arrive. Of course, Jay got lost in the hospital and it took him a bit to catch up with us. We cuddled up in a beautiful display of public affection in the waiting room with heavy eyes and nervous faces. The nurse called me back and me, my mother, and Jay all sat in the prep room meeting all the doctors as they came in to meet me. At this point I was wearing nothing but my boxers, purple hospital socks and a giant bright purple surgery gown along with a hair net that all the doctors happily refered to as my party hat. When the surgeon came in to mark me I insisted to be as small as possible, showing him photos of trans guys who got full top surgery as a example of how small he could go, he misunderstood what I meant and decided to refuse the surgery under the thought that I didn't understand what surgery I would be getting that day. He angrily threw his own across the room as I broke down in tears as my mother started to stress out and lecture us, Jay worryingly tried to explain to the surgeon that he had misunderstood what I was trying to tell him, he left and came back 15 minutes later when I had calmed myself down enough to help him understand what I wanted him to do, we agreed on a breast reduction and reconstruction as originally planned. After being marked i laid back down as the nurse gave me a sedative to help my anxiety before surgery, she took me out of the room after I kissed jay goodbye and I was off to the operating room. Most people don't remember being in the operating room but for me that wasn't the case, they offered to move me onto the surgery bed but I insisted that I could walk, and I did so flawlessly. I crawled up onto the much firmer, white surgery bed, which was very thin and long, I positioned myself as they asked me to and rested my arms above my head as they prepared the room one last time. They told me that I should be feeling sleepy soon and 30 seconds later I drifted calmly off to sleep. During surgery it took about 3 hours, during the operation my heart rate dropped to 50bpm and they had to give me medicine to get my heart rate back to normal. I woke up in recovery in a feeling of sleep paralyze, unable to move, confused as to where I was and why I was there. After 10 minutes I noticed a male nurse whom answered all my questions, explaining I was in recovery. Immediately I looked down under my gown and realized that I indeed /did/ have the surgery, I asked for food with a polite decline, but he did offer a cherry popsicle which I ate flawlessly in my drugged up state. After about 45 minutes they allowed me to use the bathroom, strangely after surgery you can't pee. It's impossible no matter how much you have to go. I whispered sweet commands to my bladder for a few minutes until finally I was able to release a little bit, enough to say I went pee anyways. Afterwards I was brought back into my room, I was reunited with my mother and Jay, after about a half hour I was released and ready to go home. Most of my recovery for the first week was sleeping, taking meds, and laying in bed doing nothing. I had quite a few friends over the first week to help me out as I couldn't do stairs on my own very easily and got winded quite fast. At around the 2 week mark I had a air bubble in my right breast, it made noises when I poked it and sounded like a water bed with air in it, my surgeon assured me it would dissolve on its own and is of no concern. Later on in the 2 week mark I noticed a clear plastic string poking out of my left breast by my arm, naturally I trimmed it and carried on with my life. At about the 3 week mark I noticed it got longer and more and more started coming out. My surgeon again said that this was fine and to simply keep them trimmed back and the problem would solve itself. By the 4 week mark I had realized I had spitting stitches as most of my incisions had opened up and spit out knots and ties of every sort in every area, dissolvable staples also made their way out and I simply pulled them out with tweezers and applied gauze pads and the ointment my surgeon gave me. This painful experience continued until eventually I was able to pull out 6 inch long strings of the internal stitches at a time, which helped the skin heal up on its own and eased my worries. On the left breast in the incision that travels to my nipple was quite open and sore, there was a single stitch poking out and a ton of pinkish yellow fluid draining out, this got so bad I soaked through a entire roll of paper towels within 8 hours, my surgeon who was then 7 hours away told me to keep doing what I've been doing and that everything would be fine. A few days later I was able to pull out the entire stitch causing the drainage, once the hole closed I was on my way to healing once again, from that point forward most of my problems were gone and I was focused on healing my terrible open wounds that were left from the rejecting stitches. I saw my primary care doctor not long after, she ran no tests but told me there was no infection and slapped a bandaid on my breasts and sent me home with a thumbs up. They began to scab up. Started leaking less, and started healing nicely. At the 5 week mark I went off my pain meds, the next day I got sick, flu like symptoms, my right breast swelled up over the course of 4 days, the incisions got swollen and rock hard, I started my period around then so I blamed medication withdrawals and my period on my complications, I was cold all the time, shaking, sweating in my sleep until my bed was soaked, sore throat, but no runny nose or other common sickness symthoms, my stomach was upset but not enough to vomit. My appitite was gone and I could only eat fruit without losing any chance of eating, I had meals prepared for me as I was unable to walk to the kitchen and stand longer than 2 minutes before passing out or fainting, I had terrible migraines the entire time and honestly felt like I was dying. After I started to feel slightly better on the last day of the sickness I noticed that my incision close to the middle of my chest on the right side was rock hard, soft in the middle and black and blue. I went to bed hoping it would get better on its own. I woke up the next morning and cleaned my incisions as usual, I took off my surgical bra and wiped down the skin and wounds, carefully rubbing ointment on them. I felt something warm run down my body, I looked down where my chest was once black and blue and noticed a 2 inch area of my incision had ripped open somehow, I pulled the breast up to have a closer look and it ripped even further, I saw a hole going inches inside my breast, pulsing as the breast tissue ripped apart in front of my own eyes. My father rushed me to the emergancy room where they performed a CAT scan and found 3 fluid pockets in my right breast, they swabbed the wound and it tested positive for infection. The fluid pockets were huge and filled with infection. 30 minutes later the pink and yellow fluid stopped dripping out and I felt a pop as brown chunky pus started to flow out of the hole like a waterfall, covering myself and several nurses with pus. Eventually a surgeon looked at me and told me they would need to transfer me to a different hospital for emergancy surgery as I had a life threatening infection, possibly mrsa. The ambulance got me to the other hospital quickly and ran me to my room on a stretcher, I had several doctors and nurses come in to see what was going on, my father arrived alone by car with a phone charger and a worried look on his face. They took care of me all night as my body was soaking through bandages every half hour to a hour, another hole started leaking as well and squirted out with extrodinary pressure and had to be held down by three nurses. After a long night of antibiotics, fluids, and pain medication the plastic surgeon finally arrived the next morning, said he would need to operate immediately. He unbandaged me to discover another part of my incision had ruptured as pus covered my body as I shivered in disgust, I had three gaping holes in my chest that were oozing everywhere. Finally by 2pm I had two nice sassy ladies change me into a gown, gather me in a bed and rush me down to surgery. When I got there I gave a urine sample and got a shot of valium 4 minutes before they wheeled me into the surgery room, as usual I remember it clearly. I walked up onto the table and laid down, wearing my party hat and drugged up for the second time. By time I was out I was awake again as the surgery took only a half hour. I woke up less dazed and confused as before, the surgeon didn't use internal stitches as my body previously rejected them. He was able to drain my entire pus bubble and I went from a D cup to a 34B just from removing the pus from my breast and I was once again the same size as before the infection started. I had a drain installed in me to drain the fluids in a less disruptive way and was finally discharged on the third day at the hospital, two days later and a ton of pain meds and antibiotics and I'm finally healing more than I ever have in the entire recovery time after my surgery. Even though I'm post op for the second time, this time will be the last time I get the same surgery twice. Finally stable and moving forward, this boy would do it all over again if I had to.

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