#I have the kind of asthma where I can't walk up the stairs if I don't take Xolair + my inhalers. Like it's Bad

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Ya Titan is strong! Powerful!! Brave!! Enough so to realize when he needs to get help and assistance!! :)

I am physically disabled. The pain I feel in my legs and have felt all day every day awake and asleep since I was 11 years old, is finally becoming too much for me. I can still "walk" (read: limp). I can still stand. I can't do either very well or for very long, just a few minutes at a time, a few times a day. I can barely use stairs, and it's only gotten worse over the years.

So, I've decided to get an electric wheelchair. And that is great.

There are days where I can do workouts, walk 4 miles, and be completely fine. Then, there are days like today, where I have to call out of work because I'm in so much pain that I can't get out of bed, let alone move anything at all, without wanting to cry.

Just because I have good days, doesn't mean I can't have bad ones, too, and that those bad days can't be made easier. And a wheelchair is going to make things FAR better and easier for myself, and my poorly body.

I don't remember what it's like to walk, only what it's like to limp. I've never been pain free, but I manage the pain by sitting down. I haven't run since I was 9 years old, and now, I'm in my mid 20s.

When I was born, my parents were told I'd have a 1/100 chance to survive my heart and organ conditions, and that if I did, I'd be disabled and likely pass on early in life. For a brief few years, I could run, I could walk. Things were normal. I don't remember those days much, but there was one day where I ran, and began coughing profusely. I choked. That was... strange. Maybe I was sick? I got bronchitis frequently (3-4x a year), so maybe it was that?

In gym class, I continued trying to run. Every time, I'd start coughing uncontrollably, and struggle to breathe. I chose to stop running, and that didn't sit well with my teachers. At all.

Shortly thereafter, I began to get cramps in my legs. Kind of like growing pains, but not exactly... And then, months later, I hadn't grown one bit. But the pain stayed. Everyone around me was growing! But I stayed the same height, 4ft11in tall. Others reached well past 6ft. Their pains went away, but I knew this was something more, especially when, after 2 years, I was stuck at that height, and still in pain.

I resorted to limping everywhere, my legs aching constantly in random places, never consistent or in any pattern. My parents continued to tell me, for another 3 years, I was just growing. I'd grow out of the pain.

By 14, even my mom knew something was wrong because the pain was still there, and I still hadn't grown, and I still couldn't run without coughing. She went ahead, called a specialist, and brought me to him. I got blood work done, and when he looked over it, he said I was too young for lupus or arthritis, so he passed it off as an unknown illness, and sent me on my way without anything else.

My mom was livid. For another 2 years, she sought doctors to help me, with no success. By a miracle, my grandfather went to the hospital for pneumonia, and his nurse was a doctor who helped tremendously. Somehow, my mom convinced this doctor to take me on, despite the fact that I was 2 years too young for her practice, and when the doctor heard about my problems, she immediately sent me for more blood testing, called me in the moment results came, and diagnosed me with arthritis and lupus. She sent me to an asthma specialist, who diagnosed me with athletically induced asthma, and allergy asthma after several tests. I got an inhaler, and finally, I could work out without coughing!

But I still couldn't run without severe pain. I was still limping. And I was told, that pain will never go away. It will never get better, only worse. And I have no choice but to live with it forever.

And ever since, I've gone on, suffering, limping, never going very far. I can't go shopping without leaning on a cart, or cane. I can't go up a single flight of 5 stairs. And so, I acknowledged at long last that I need a wheelchair, and it's ok. This isn't a failure. This isn't giving up. Just like I have to get therapy and meds for my PTSD, and other mental illnesses, I have to get a mobility aid for my physical well-being.

I learned, when I was diagnosed with my mental illnesses, and reached my breaking point, I had to get help, and that there is nothing wrong with that, and there's no shame in it. It shows how strong I am because it proves I know when I need to rely on others since I've done all I can alone, and that has inherent strength in and of itself because accepting help is a step toward being more powerful by yourself.

And getting a mobility aid, I realized, is no different. It's accepting help so I can be more powerful on my own.

My father made me believe for years that accepting any help is a sign of weakness, and shows you're broken. He taught me that wheelchairs are exclusively for those who cannot walk at all, who are paralyzed or deformed or don't have legs.

But I've met a few specific people who, they've shown me otherwise. They're like me: they can walk, but it's hard and it hurts. And they taught me, I don't have to suffer by pretending to be able bodied. I don't have to mask as abled just to please my father, or society, or whoever. Just as I stopped masking my autism, I'm going to stop masking my physical disabilities.

And my old teacher, who supported me in every way throughout high school when almost everyone else made fun of me, said I'd amount to nothing, and wouldn't make it as a creative, she messaged me last night saying she has a wheelchair she's looking to get rid of, that it takes up room, and she'd love to help me out by selling it to me for whatever I think it's worth.

So, happy holidays to me. :) I'm buying a wheelchair, and I'm regaining my freedom. The pain may never get better, but my life as a whole can. And damn. My 2024 is looking great. Concerts, LARPs, 2 or more Renaissance festivals, a trip to Disney with my friends, another trip to the Poconos with the same people just weeks later, and finishing off the year with the Texas Viking Festival. I've quit college to work full time and save up for my own place. And I know, finally, it's going to be ok. For the first time in my life, I'm going to be ok. :)

#long post #mun is a titan #not destiny #disability #disabled pride

[florenceofalabia]

Why I was going to retire/ why I didn't retire

I really was going to retire. It wasn't one of those "Oh, maybe if I say I'm retiring, people will be extra nice to me and more people will show up to my 'final' show" kind of things. I really did plan this show to be my last burlesque show. It was on the same stage where I did my first show, it was my burlesque daughter's first show, it was all about cheese, and it was something I made. I put it all together and made it good so I could go out on a high note. But then, last night changed everything for me.

Why I Was Going to Retire

I was 24 when I realized I was trans, and that scared me, so I decided to shove all those feelings in a locked box in my head, and finally figure out how to be a girl, dammit. I had made friends with burlesque people and done a little work with them before, and I was being given another opportunity to get onstage and take on this super femme performance. I learned to be a girl, but it was in the context of burlesque, and it was last year that I realized it never stopped being a performance for me. I would straight up dissociate while doing some of these performances, drifting outside my body while my body relied on muscle memory. Realizing that other people were girls off and onstage, and I was just pretending to be a girl, an even then, half of my performances were very genderqueer, and the other half were more drag queen than woman. Finally getting to the point where I stopped denying being trans, my relationship with femininity and my performance of it changed. No longer practicing being a woman in my daily life, I lost touch with how to do it onstage. Going through transition, which means second puberty at 36, my body is changing, and it feels extra vulnerable going through that with an audience.

I am also increasingly disabled. In the week leading up to the show, I saw three different doctors (4 if you count the radiologist NP), had 15 blood draws, 30 x-rays, internal hemorrhaging for some unknown reason, and a hip that threatened to stop working. When I was starting out 10+ years ago, younger and stronger, working out was for increasing my strength and flexibility. Now, I spend twice as much time training my body just to be able to touch my toes. I have asthma that makes me wheeze just from walking up stairs sometimes. I need mobility aids to get around during flare ups. There were entire categories of food I couldn't eat for a week going into this show. Burlesque is so physical. When I was young, I could dance every night for three hours straight while living on a bus and eating gas station food and drinking so much whiskey. I look back on those days in absolute awe. I can't do most of that anymore. I did a show in Chicago a month ago and my back locked up in the middle of my act and I just kinda froze, wishing I could just abandon things in the middle of the song and go lay down. Forever.

And folks, I've also got baggage with burlesque. I always tried not to let the audience know about backstage drama, but there was a lot of it. Super Happy Funtime was toxic in a lot of ways, and run like an actual cult. The leader of the show was very charismatic onstage, and quite horrible offstage. I met some of my best lifelong friends in this show, but we're all still recovering from the experiences years later. Even outside of that troupe, I encountered a lot of other shitty people who were often in positions of power in the community, producers and primadonnas. People have strong feuds with each other. Known abusers get booking because they're popular with audiences, and the performers just have to rely on whisper networks to keep each other safe. "Don't be alone with that guy in the dressing room. He's a known creep." Why is this guy here at all??? And most shows never paid near enough to put up with all of this.

So basically, baggage and body issues put me through the ringer, and I thought it might be time to move onto other things. I still wanted to perform, but it would have to be something else. This is what I thought, leading up to last night's show.

Why I didn't retire

Last night's show went so well, that I truly am still coming to terms with the fact that it actually happened and I'm still processing it all, but I know for a fact that I'm going to continue to do this.

First of all, everything just went right. Okay, one thing went wrong, and that was the curtain getting stuck shut, but aside from technical difficulties, everything was perfect. I haven't seen the official numbers yet, but I'm pretty sure we sold more than twice the tickets we needed to break even. This is a big theatre, so if only a few people showed up, the crowd would seem even smaller, but at least 2/3 of the seats were full and we sold out of cheese before the show started. People drove for hours to come see this show. They were extremely generous with their applause and their tips. They laughed at my awful cheese puns. They participated in the cheese eating contest and the winner went home with a full wheel of real cheese and the runner-up went home with a full wheel of fake cheese.

The backstage vibe was warm and supportive and sweet. Everyone got along. They found out if was my burlesque daughter's first ever show and they all made sure she was feeling taken care of and welcome, helping with makeup and shaking off the jitters. Everyone had their props organized, and our kitten was seriously the hardest working kitten in the biz, having to clear up so so so much cheese off that historical stage floor. The theatre was so easy to work with, and they told me that they loved that the whole place smelled like cheese.

So, I was feeling like a good producer for sure. I could put a show together, fill the seats, and pay people well and also treat them well. I treated everyone how I always wanted to be treated. Producing a good show on the same stage where I got my start, with some performers who had also worked with my old troupe, was especially rewarding, knowing I could make it happen without having to treat people like garbage who were lucky to be onstage and who certainly didn't deserve money for it. I was feeling like a good host, entertaining the crowd between sets while never forgetting that I'm up there to warm up the crowd for the performers, the talent who I booked who everyone came out to see. I connected, I made the audience laugh and the performers felt good. Now, could I still perform?

Y'all, so much of the success of this act came from two things: glasses and flat shoes. My eyesight is terrible, and not being able to see makes me panic. Not a great thing for a performance. I also cannot point my toes without setting off a chain reaction in my body that locks my muscles up, so high heels are just not a thing I can do anymore. I kept my glasses on and I performed my act in sneakers, because I planned an act where sneakers made sense. It turns out that acknowledging your disabilities and working within the boundaries of what you can do makes a huge difference. WHO WOULDA THOUGHT? Being steady on my feet and not worrying about falling offstage or being unable to find a prop freed up so much more of my brain for remembering moves and connecting with the audience.

I was also in my body for this in a way I very often wasn't before. While HRT can bring about awkward puberty gangly pimply sweaty teenage feelings, it also has made my brain line up with my body more than it ever has. Being able to speak in a lower voice, my boobs shrinking down to half the size they were pre-T, and not caring about being hairy felt so good. I performed a character that didn't need to be a girl. (The whole original act was inspired by Richard Simmons.) I felt like I was off the hook for being obligated to perform femininity. Which doesn't mean there wasn't plenty of femininity in it, but I also didn't spend any time worrying about getting rid of the masculine parts of myself while doing it, which was another thing that distracted me in a lot of past performances. I could put more of my authentic self onstage than I ever have before, and rather than feeling vulnerable about it, it made me feel powerful. The audience wasn't cheering for my mask, but for me this time. Whoa did that feel different, and good.

By realizing that I haven't lost my strength as a performer, that I just have different strengths now, I can work with what I do have going on, rather than the past framework I always worked in before. In some ways, it is like I retired, but more in a way that a caterpillar retires from being a caterpillar when it becomes a butterfly. I feel free in a way I haven't in awhile, to experiment in new ways and create new things.

So yeah, I'm gonna keep doing this. I'm going to keep creating what I want to see in the world. I'm going to do just one or two really big shows a year rather than worrying about lots of little ones, because I can spend more time making sure they're exactly what they should be, a special occasion, a spectacle, a reason for an audience to put on pants and spend money when they could watch porn at home for free, a reason for a performer to spend time rehearsing and money putting together a costume. I'm going to create acts that let me be myself, in the body I have. I'm going to nurture a creative scene and try to be the ideals that I hold.

I hope to catch y'all in the audience sometime, or backstage. My heart is so full, and I am so warm.

#burlesque

[midearthwritings]

Could I please get an Lotr and The Hobbit Matchup, of you're still doing them? Thanks so much!

🌱 18 year old Woman // Bisexual // Autistic and Disabled with a bonus Anxiety Disorder

🌱 I have a litany of Chronic Illnesses including Autism, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Dyscalculia (Dyslexia for Math), Scoliosis, Sleep Apnea, Asthma, a Growth Hormone Deficiency, Insomnia, and a very bad Overbite. I also have a condition where my right leg is physically longer than my left, which causes pain in my hip and right leg, as well as trouble walking. My usual symptoms include Fatigue, Back Pain, Executive Dysfunction (struggle to get tasks done), Difficulty breathing and talking, Very short stature, and difficulties with my balance. I also stim by pacing around in circles and talking to myself.

🌱 I have a serious fear of heights, partially because of my balance issues. It's so bad that I can't even use stairs without holding onto the railing.

🌱 I know a lot of Home Remedies and Superstitions for like no reason. For instance, did you know that Raspberry Tea helps with Menstrual Pain, or that knocking on wood invokes the protection of the tree spirit and that’s why it’s said to give you luck? I don’t know why I know that, but I do.

🌱 Winning a fight is on my bucket list, but it has to be for a good reason. I’m not one to just pick fights for the sake of fighting, and I’m actually pretty conflict-averse due to trauma, so I need to actually have a solid reason for throwing hands. But I’ve always wanted to do it for some reason.

🌱 I really like studying Witchcraft for some reason. The first spell I ever performed was a Healing Spell to help my friend who was sick with Crohn's Disease. Thirty minutes after performing the ritual, I got a text saying he felt a lot better and he was released from the hospital a couple days later, so I guess it must’ve worked. 😁

🌱 My love language is definitely gift giving. I’m pretty cheap, but I’m also an artist, so when push comes to shove I’ll just make something for someone when I like them. I pay very close attention to what people like because it gives me more ideas on how to interact with them. I’m essentially a large, flightless Crow. You were nice, so you get something shiny. But though I like giving gifts to others, I’m not very materialistic at all. I prefer to be practical when it comes to things, and I get very nervous when spending money on myself.

🌱 I’m an avid writer and am actually planning on publishing a book this summer!

🌱 I LOVE going outside and getting messy. Playing in the mud, getting soaked in the rain, I’m the type to go outside and come back home covered in dirt and twigs. It’s just really fun to me.

🌱 I've been told that I'm a very good cook, and I can bake pretty well too.

🌱 I’ve always wanted to be a really good gardener. My dream house is just covered in flowers and plants and such. I want to live in a Greenhouse, basically.

🌱 I have a habit of giggling to myself just by remembering something funny that happened, even if it was a couple years ago. I also laugh when I do something stupid, because I find my flaws and shortcomings funny for the most part. I love to laugh with people, but never at them.

🌱 I know way too much about Spirits and Fae. My favorite book is called ‘The Encyclopedia of Spirits’ and it shows you how to contact and interact with a ton of different deities and spirits, and I’m addicted to reading it. It’s the best.

🌱 I’m basically like a tiny, less-impressive Aragorn. I love travelling on foot, getting messy outside, I was kind of a Horse Girl as a kid ngl, I’ve always wanted to be a knight or king of some sort, chances are that I haven’t bathed in awhile, and I too would pine for a hot elf girl for literal years on end.

🌱 My closest friends say I give off “Dwobbit” vibes. That’s a ½ Dwarf and ½ Hobbit btw. I’m around 4’ 10” tall, I don’t shave, I love crafting and art, I live in the Mountains, I’m tomboyish but I also love gardening and can be a bit of a homebody, I love going barefoot, etc.

🌱 I really love History, Folklore, Mythology and Fairy Tales. My favorite is the Irish myth of Oisín in Tir Na Nog. Look it up if you don’t know it, it’s a fantastic story. But I also appreciate myths from all sorts of different cultures, like the myth of Annapurna in India or the tale of Princess Kaguya in Japan.

🌱 I’m an Aquarius, INFP and 4w5 if that means anything. For reference, characters who are also 4w5 INFPs include Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice), Wirt (Otgw), Frankenstein’s Monster, Luna Lovegood (HP), Napstablook (Undertale), Erik The Phantom of the Opera, and Celeste from Animal Crossing. That kinda tells you a lot about me, doesn’t it?

🌱 I am naturally very shy and take awhile to open up to people. I also get flustered very easily and tend to avoid social interaction a lot. I’m a huge introvert, but I also really do love meeting interesting people, so I try to talk to them when I have the energy to.

🌱 I have very long Disheveled brown hair, that actually used to be blonde when I was little, so there’s a few lighter patches in there. It's essentially a fluffy mane at this point, but because of my poor hand-eye coordination I never learned how to braid it. I have really pale skin, with lots of moles, freckles and scabs. It’s also warmer out, so I almost certainly have a farmer’s tan. I have very light blue eyes and glasses.

🌱 I have a habit of seeing shadows move out of the corners of my eyes, frequently mistaking them for people or animals, but when I turn to look there’s nothing there. I’ve gotten my eyesight checked multiple times, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary, so it’s either a lack of sleep, or the Fae are getting antsy with me. Probably the former of course, but part of me would like to believe the latter too.

Sorry the description is so long, I can't wait to see my results! Thanks so much, wishing you the best!!

Hey darling! First, wow that was really long! Sorry for taking so long to make it, as I mentioned before, I'm a fucking procrastinator.

Aragorn

For LOTR, I'm pairing you up with Aragorn.

Aragorn had probably loved you for a really really long time.

But he's extremely patient and careful with you, so it took him a while to confess his love.

When he did, it was kind of overwhelming for you, and you were really doubting the whole thing. But again, he was really patient with you.

Aragorn doesn't cover you in gifts to show his love. He shows it by remembering all those little things that make you you.

The two of you can spend hours telling stories and tales to the other. It's your favorite thing to do together.

He loves that you write and always ask to read your work. Although, he never pushes you and respects you when you refuse.

He knows about every single one of your illnesses and makes sure that you always have what you need.

Bilbo Baggins

For the Hobbit, I picked Bilbo.

Bilbo loves you deeply and truly. He thinks all the things that are annoying to others are what make you the most unique being he has ever met.

He thinks listening to you tell tales is more fascinating than reading.

Most of all, he loves when you read to him the stories that you have created.

Sometimes, your illnesses are a bit complicated for him to understand, but he does his best and listens to your needs.

His favorite thing to do with you is cooking. Sometimes, you will even compete over who is the best cook. Although he admitted more than once that you were.

When you are out gardening, he sits outside with you and watches you. He thinks it's beautiful how hard you work to make his garden look so gorgeous.

He is often insecure about losing you. He is scared that he won't be able to provide you with what you need, or won't be able to show you how much he loves you.

As for you, you fear that one day he might grow tired of you.

But the communication in your relationship is great and your insecurities are even washed away by promises of eternal love.

Again, sorry for the wait! I hope you liked it!

#max matchmaker #aragorn #bilbo baggins

[gay-danny-phantom]

Since I've gained weight during the pandemic Ive gained a perspective on just how annoying and tone deaf our culture is on weight loss and viewing fatness as a loss of self control.

A ton of simple things became more complicated. Staying hydrated? I have to drink so much more water because my weight has increased. Bitch, I didn't even drink enough water when I was skinny! Picking outfits? None of my cute stuff fits anymore, and the stuff that does I immediately take off because it's too hot, always. Sleeping? So much harder when your body temperature is higher and you can't get cool.

Just lose weight! Sure bud. How do you want me to do that?

Well, your diet is probably crap. It's not actually. I eat mostly Japanese and Mediterranean style food because of my IBS already, and these are both incredibly healthy.

Well, it's probably the carbs! Cut down on those. Where! I cut bagels. I barely eat any bread. Pasta is a rare treat for me. Most of the time I eat rice as my carb of choice, and not that much of it.

Aha! But what about your LIQUID calories! You shouldn't drink soda! I literally never drink soda. I maybe drink 1 can of cider every 2 weeks. I have to drink almond milk for the calcium content since I can't have dairy, so I can't cut that. Otherwise I only drink tea and water.

It's just frustrating because I'm doing my diet right, and that's what everyone points to. Yet no results have happened. Because it just isn't that easy.

The other thing is exercise. The thing about exercising when chubby/fat is any amount of physical exertion makes you So. Damn. Hot. I walk up the stairs and suddenly it's like I was outside in Texas.

When you get hot, you sweat. Which means you're ALWAYS damp because you're ALWAYS hot. And you can't ignore the dampness because it gets itchy, or could turn into a rash, and also it stinks.

So you're constantly devoting part of your brain power to temperature and sweat management, which in itself is exhausting. You change your clothes a lot. Sometimes you sit under a vent with no clothes on after a walk for an hour and still feel hot.

"Just exercise more!" Is an annoying piece of advice because, frankly, everything feels like exercise. And exercising is harder when you're heavier. It's physically more difficult for me to do a sit up because there's mass in the way, making it hard to breathe, so I get frustrated. Doing jumping jacks kind of hurts for obvious jiggling reasons. I tried running but immediately got injured (my calves were just in a ton of pain) so I had to stop.

Not to mention, if I do the amount of exercise that is required, it would take hours, which is so daunting. If I break it up throughout the day, I have to take multiple showers, eating up even more time.

Plus it's not like I can go to the gym, theres a damn pandemic! With breakthrough events! My partner has asthma and would most likely die if he happened to be one of those cases. I have to do home exercise.

The standard advice is just tone deaf, because it doesn't offer any actual help with these logistical problems. People assume that they are skinny or fit because of a correct choice they are making and not because they've got good genetics, or were taught healthier behaviors from a much younger age so it comes second nature, or they work an active job so they're already burning a ton of calories. I know skinny people like eat like shit and I know fat people with a ton of self control. Your skinniness is not a virtue.

Sorry i don't know how to add breaks on mobile.

#long post #weight #weight tw #weight loss #fatphobia #rant

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Death Takes a Holiday- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,695

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Approaching the house, you walked right through the front door before heading up the stairs. A woman’s voice could be heard from inside what you assumed to be Cole’s room, and she sounded in so much pain. A soccer ball was thrown against the door as she escaped, going right through the three of you.

As soon as Cole saw you, he began throwing different kinds of sports balls, and you raised your hand to stop him, but your magic didn’t work over here.

“Who are you?” Cole asked once he had no more balls to throw.

“It’s okay, Cole,” you started to say.

“How do you know my name?”

“Look, this isn't gonna be easy to hear, but... you're—dead. You're a spirit. Us too,” Sam spoke slowly.

“Yeah, thanks, Haley Joel. I know I'm dead. What do you want?”

“We just want to talk,” you said gently.

“About what?”

“Was that your mom?” you tried a different tactic which seemed to work. The child sighed before nodding soulfully. He didn’t say a word as he walked past you, apparently to go see her wherever she was. Following his lead, you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where she was clearly in pain. Cole didn’t seem to see that.

“I was outside all morning,” Cole started speaking about how he died even though you didn’t ask him to. “They tell you to be careful when it's cold.”

“Cold air can cause an asthma attack?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, but then I was in my room. It happened so fast. I called out for my mom, but nothing came out. Everything started spinning, and then I was just standing there, looking down at my body.”

“And that's when you saw the man?” you asked.

“Creepy old guy in a black suit. He wanted me to go with him, but,” he looked back at his mom, “I didn't want to go.”

“How did you get rid of him?” Sam asked.

“I didn't. The black smoke did.”

“Black smoke?”

“It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out, it was gone, and so was he.”

“Do you know where it went?” you asked.

“No. But I know where it is,” he said just as the lights started flickering. Cole jumped in surprise before that turned to fear.

“They’re back,” he said as he flickered away.

“Wait, who?” you called out before getting up. A blast of wind hit you in your face just as something white and human-shaped rushed past you and up the stairs.

“Wait! Hey! Wait! We need to talk to you!” you yelled after the reaper. They were here for Cole. When you reached the stairs, you didn’t see the white thing, but a woman with shoulder-length black hair.

“Dean,” she said with a small smile.

“Do I know you?”

“We go way back,” she said as she walked down the stairs and past you three, into the kitchen. Following in her footsteps, you needed to know how Dean knew her. “You don't remember me?”

“Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a girl say that... You're gonna have to freshen my memory,” he said, and she walked forward before placing her fingers on his forehead. He gasped as he got all the memories of her from when he got into the car accident that almost broke you, when he was in a coma. When she pulled away, he stared with her with wide eyes.

“Tessa.”

“So, you do know her?” you asked.

“From the hospital after the accident.”

“The accident with Dad?” Dean nodded in confirmation. “So, this is the reaper that came after you.”

“Well, this was fun,” she said. “Now, if you'll excuse me—”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, you can't—you can't take the kid,” you told her.

“Why?”

“Demons are in town, that's why. They've already snatched your reaper pal. The kid knows where,” Dean answered for you.

“So?”

“So, you should shag ass. For all we know, they could try and snatch you, too.”

“Except that this town is off the rails, and someone has to set it straight.”

“Yeah, we understand that, but these are special circumstances.”

“What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off? I could care less. I just want to do my job.”

“Right, yeah, and, look, we want to help you do your job. So, if you would just bail town—”

“No,” she interrupted Sam.

“Listen,” you bit out as you walked closer to her, “you wanna reap, then reap. Could you hold off until then? We’re asking you nicely.”

“Alright,” she sighed deeply, “but just so we're clear, when I start reaping again, I'm starting with the kid.”

“Understood. I'll find him,” you sighed before heading to the stairs.

“Wait, what are you gonna say to him?” Dean asked.

“Whatever I have to,” you left the group to go to Cole’s room. It was empty, but the closet door was slightly open, and you knew where Cole was. Walking over to the door, you slid down the wall and stretched your feet in front of you.

“This all must be pretty overwhelming, huh? Pretty scary, too.”

“The worst is my mom,” he sighed.

“Must be hard seeing her like this.”

“She's always coming in here, talking to me, telling me how sad she is. I knock some stuff over to let her know I'm here, but... she only gets sadder.”

“Why do you think that is?” you asked as you peeked over at him. He sighed before moving more into the light so you could see his eyes.

“I'm not telling you where the smoke is.”

“Even if I told you that when this is all over, you can stay here? Forever?”

“What about the one downstairs?”

“Tessa? Oh, she wouldn't bother you. No reaper would. You could just stay here with your family for as long as you wanted.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do a lot of things, but yes, I can do that.”

“You swear?”

“Pinky promise,” you held out your right pinky.

“I saw the black smoke at my funeral,” he confessed. “The funeral home. It was everywhere.”

“Can you come downstairs with me? Tessa won’t touch you, you have my word on that.”

“Okay,” he said and got out of the closet. Getting up, you walked with him downstairs to see the brothers and the reaper talking. Once down, you cleared your throat to let them know he was ready.

“Hey, Cole. I'm Tessa. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“It's okay, Cole. Just tell them what you told me.”

“I saw the black smoke at my funeral.”

“At the cemetery?” Dean asked.

“At the funeral home. It was everywhere,” he said just as the lights started to flicker. Looking around, you wondered who was doing that until you looked at Tessa.

“You doing that?”

“No,” she said. The front door opened and a rush of black smoke entered the place, covering every inch. Ducking down, you closed your eyes in hopes they didn’t take you, but once it was gone, so was Tessa.

“Tessa!”

“Cole, you okay?” you asked and he nodded.

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to fight that?”

“I don't know. Learn some ghost moves?”

“By tonight? Yeah, sure. I'll meet you back at Mr. Miyagi's.”

“Who's Mr. Miyagi?” Cole asked, making you look at him.

“Don’t make me feel old,” you groaned before shaking your head. “Cole, you have to teach us how to move things.”

“Follow me,” he smiled before walking outside. Following him, he pointed to a miniature windmill.

“You have to concentrate on making it move. Will it to move, picture it moving, and it will.”

“I’ll try,” Dean said as he stepped up to bat. He stared at the thing, but nothing happened which made Cole smirk.

“It's not gonna move if you don't concentrate.”

“I am concentrating,” he pouted. Smirking, you watched as Dean got ready to go again until it moved a couple of inches.

“Ah, here we go, baby,” Dean laughed but it died when it stopped moving.

“You pull a muscle?” Cole chuckled.

“Who’s next?” Dean sighed.

“I’ll go,” you smiled before taking Dean’s place. Staring at the windmill, it started moving easily, making Dean gasp.

“How the hell are you doing that?”

“I’m a witch, I concentrate all the time. Brain power, baby,” you laughed, but noticed the windmill had stopped turning, making you frown.

“Okay, let me show you how it’s done,” Cole said before taking over. Not only did he make it move, he also made the swing porch rock and the wind chimes ding.

“Dude! You are so Amityville,” Dean laughed.

“This isn't even the good stuff,” Cole grinned. Before you could move onto the next part, you three practiced moving things by concentrating until you had all gotten pretty good at it. Moving onto the next, Cole took you inside where he was showing you how to touch things, like other ghosts and stuff. Almost immediately, he punched Sam in the stomach who doubled over.

“See? If you want to hit something, you just got to get mad.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Sam coughed as he stood up. Cole then turned to Dean before nodding.

“Now you try. Hit me.”

“Uh, I think I'll stick to just picking on somebody my own size,” he motioned to you and Sam. Cole then backhanded Dean in the cheek which made you and Sam bust out laughing. Cole walked over to you and Sam before looking at the younger brother.

“Hit me as hard as you can.”

“Dude, I'm not gonna do Fight Club with a twelve-year-old,” Sam chuckled just as the young boy whacked Sam in the face. Cole turned to you, but he didn’t have to say anything.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said just as you reared your fist back before going to hit Cole, but he flickered away and reappeared by the door. Looking at him, you chuckled at his move.

“You have got to teach us that,” Dean smiled.

“I’ll teach you everything I know.”

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