#i'll stay alive year after year coming up with goals and then not going for them.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series

The Way You Miss Me  Explicit | COMPLETE SERIES | F!Reader  Joel is your daddy’s best friend. One evening, when your dad has to work late and you’ve been babysitting Sarah, tequila emboldens you to tell Joel what you’ve always wanted to tell him.

Ghost of You  Explicit | On-Going Series | Widow F!Reader  Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Trial & Error Explicit | COMPLETED SERIES | Joel x F!Reader x Tommy Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come Away With Me - Trial & Error Season Two Explicit | COMPLETED SERIES | Joel x F!Reader x Tommy Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

In The Woods Somewhere Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x F!Reader Joel Miller, exasperated by his estrangement from Ellie, volunteers to scout out a new patrol route for Tommy. Weeks into his solitude, he stumbles upon a cabin, not abandoned, but filled with children, and you. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, Joel’s arrival into your bubble sets off a catastrophic chain of events. You’re reliant on him now, having to trust him like no-one else to get you back to the safety of Jackson. You’ve done terrible things to stay alive, things that would disgust most people, so much so that you truly don’t believe you deserve the kindness of this rugged stranger. After everything you’ve been through, you and the children, why does he deem you worthy of his love?

The Checklist Explicit | COMPLETE SERIES | Joel Miller x F!Reader Your new boyfriend Joel finds your hidden stash of porn, full of pages with their corners folded over, marking the things you like the most. Expecting him to feel bad about finding things you’re into, things you haven’t asked for from him, you’re surprised when he offers to help you tick them off.

Delicate - Co-Authored with @hellishjoel Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x Single Parent F!Reader Sarah decides, with a year until she leaves home for good, that it's time for her dad to start dating again. Joel doesn't understand the fuss, he's more than happy with how life is for him right now, but decides if it's for Sarah, he'll give it a go. After wading through the dating apps, he comes across someone new, someone who might just be able to be the company he's needed all along.

One Day I'll Fly Away Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x F!Princess Reader A disgraced Princess, wrapped up in a scandal that no-one saw coming. A scandal and a messy, public divorce that has shaken the British Royal Family to its core and caused a media frenzy. Running away seemed the only option, get away from the eye of the storm, but no matter how far you run, the people who want to find you, will always find you. You were meant to lay low, keep your nose out of trouble, but when the handsome and rugged town rancher is as mysterious as he is, it was always going to be a disaster waiting to happen.

One-Shots

In His Healing Hands Explicit | One-Shot | F!Reader You come back from patrol with a broken body - knees and feet aching with age and the physical toll of the world. Joel knows exactly how to help you, putting his hands (and mouth) to good use.

Where You Want Your Gift, Girl? Explicit | One-Shot | F!Reader It’s your birthday and Joel, knowing it’s not your favourite celebration, is keen to show you that it‘s not always going to be a bad day, not if he can help it.

She A Bad Lil Bitch, She A Rebel Explicit | One-Shot | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Got My Mind On Your Body Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader He's the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes on, even as he grows older, and you're determined to show him just that.

Ask Nice For It Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader You know this dance with Joel like the back of your hand - when he needs you, you do exactly as you're told.

Light In The Darkness  Explicit | One-Shot | Original Female Character Amy O'Leary has a grudge with Joel after he failed her before, but a forced scouting party and a rainstorm later and they are brought together closer than Amy ever could have imagined.

Drabbles 

We Have To Make This Quick - 585 words of smut 

Come Back To Bed - 969 words of smut 

I’m Going To Ruin You - 1.4K words of smut 

Suck It and See - 1.9k words of smut

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal

[chaoticneutralgood2627]

Advice to College Students (From someone who's trying to apply for a master's program)

Note that these are in no particular order and from my own particular experience. I will add if I think of more.

TAKE NOTES ON EVERYTHING, ESPECIALLY IF YOU FIND IT COOL: your brain will tell you 'I'll remember that fact, it's so neat!' Your brain is a BITCH. You will not remember SHIT. Take ALL the notes. If you can record your classes, even better!

Write down who your professors are for each class. Make a big document. All the years. Write them. Write down their vibes and if you like them. Write down what sort of assignments they gave. Because I'm over here trying desperately to remember which professors I had multiple classes with so I can beg them for recommendations.

Save your assignments. Even if they're horribly cringey. You can use this to gauge how far you've come. I know it hurts your soul. I have fanfic from when I was 12. Do it anyway.

When they tell you the grad school shit, pay attention. Even if you don't plan to go back to school. Because I didn't listen and now I have changed my mind and I have no recollection of that section of school.

Networking. Gather contacts from your classmates. If for no other reason than because you think they're intimidating and you don't want your LinkedIn to look depressing. They're probably just as intimidated by you. And if not, you can pretend they are.

College is not high school. Next to no one has friends at first. Everyone is a disaster. Talk to people. You might not find Your People in your first friend group. That's fine. There are people there somewhere that can make life less awful. The worst they can say is no, you can't be friends with us (and most people aren't that bitchy). The universe is big and no one is judging you harder than you are.

It's not that friends Can't Live Together, it's that people have different organization styles and needs for survival and sometimes those Do Not Mesh. If you're going to live with someone, make sure that you have talked about things.

Everything can go on a resume if you word it right. Editing a friend's paper? Congrats, you have editing and tutoring experience. Playing DND on weekends? Cooperation and teambuilding to work towards a common goal, sometimes in the face of creative differences (your friends want to Fight Everything and you want to Stay Alive (or reversed)). EVERYTHING CAN GO ON A RESUME.

There are so many resources on campus. Use them, for the love of god because then you're going to be an adultier adult and realize that there is not a med center right across the campus.

Find what motivates you. Mine is spite, I am applying to grad school to get out of retail and to spite 2 specific supervisors. Cling to that when you want to drop out and quit.

There is not a specific route to take in college. Or out of college. Listen to yourself rather than everyone's advice (I am aware that this is ironic to be on an advice post).

If you think you can wake up at 9 after like 4 hours of sleep, that is the devil talking to you. Go to bed.

On the same note. I am aware that you woke up at like 5 for high school. You will not want to exist before noon. 8 am classes are not illegal, but they should be.

Take care of yourself. You're paying a shit ton of money to be there, you can take an hour to eat the food. Plus, if you take care of yourself, then you will work better.

There will be weird shit happening all over. Just roll with it. Unless it's hurting someone or has the potential to hurt someone (my one friend got stalked).

You are not required to stay somewhere social if it's creeping you the fuck out or if you aren't comfy. I think I went to a single party in my entire college life and I hid in the corner with their illegal kitten the whole time.

Speaking of illegal kittens. If you know someone has an illegal kitten, no the fuck you do not. There probably will be at least one. And you do not know about it.

#college life #college campus #college students #advice #college advice #college #student #help

[stargazerbibi]

🐣🫐🌼 3RD YEAR, 2ND SEMESTER: GOALS & PLANS 🌼🫐🐣

hello there!! fancy seeing you here again hahaha,,

if you know me, you probably guessed it, the new semester is starting soon and so far this thing has worked 2/2 times so.. i'm not about to jinx it by not doing the challenge. whatever works, works, yk?

this time around, i'm only taking 4 classes :( it makes me feel so lazy and wasteful, but i'll need to stay another full year anyways so it's not like it affects anything really (and i'll have way more time to study a subject i, for once, kinda enjoy). either way, i'm sure the classes are going to be absolutely brutal and i won't even notice after the 1st week haha

the term is going to have a maximum of 143 days (ending on the 5th of july), including both exam seasons (which, hopefully, i won't need!!!!), but i think i'm going to start 2 days earlier. yes.. because 145 is a round number.. but also cause i have to clean up my room and prepare everything :P

🌬️💿🪐 GOALS 🪐💿🌬️

-> pass all my classes: 2/4

-> keep my duolingo streak alive

-> read 12 books: 3/12 (last read: Klara and the Sun, by Kazuo Ishiguro)

-> move furniture + organize shelves ☑️

-> organize email

-> transfer photos to computer ☑️

-> visit dad ☑️

🗞️🌕🗡️ FUN PLANS 🗡️🌕🗞️

-> re-read jjk: 3/20

-> watch 10 movies: 4/10 (last watched: Lady Bird)

-> watch 10 series: 1/10 (last watched: Mushishi)

-> build legos: 5/5 ☑️😭

-> buy cute mugs to put my pens in ☑️

-> finish 1 game ☑️ (100% Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion)

-> complete my acnh island

🌆🔮👒 COUNTERS 👒🔮🌆

-> late nights: 10 too many to count (goal: 0) ✖️

-> hangout with friends: 8 (goal: 10)

-> things i created: 2 (goal: 10)

-> primogems: 6,372/28,000 ✖️

i'll add more things as they come up, but for now this is the plan ;)

#stargazerbibi #study #studyblr #100 dop #100 days of productivity #studygram #stem #uniblr #stemblr #university #student #studyspo #studyspiration #studystudystudy #aesthetic #productivity #student life #studying #studies #study blog #study motivation #stem studyblr #stem girls #college life #college #uni life #uni #goals

[theminecraftbox]

c!clingyduo and c!stagedduo: killing your best friend

/dsmp rp

These duos are close, close friends. These duos would and have killed and died for each other. Punz and Tubbo kept Dream and Tommy alive. And they also killed them. They're parallel, and they're unbearably tragic.

After prison, Punz tells Dream, we can fix this. We can bring the server back to normal. Dream admits the torture to him. Punz responds, let’s go after Quackity. He’ll pay. I’ll help. You stay here, stay safe, and I will kick things off. No matter what, I'll be at your side.

Tubbo tells Tommy, you need to kill Dream? This doesn't seem healthy. But I'll come with you. I'll help you. No matter what, I'll be at your side.

Punz tells Dream, let this comfort you: we can still win.

But here is the thing: WINNING MEANS DREAM'S DEATH. The Plan has always, always meant Dream's destruction, in every conceivable sense. The Plan means a moral death, doing horrific things for a far-off goal. The Plan means literal death, with the reveal that both Dream and Punz have killed themselves and killed each other over and over in its service. The Plan means a symbolic death: Dream is swallowed up by Pandora, never to reemerge, and Punz signed off on that violence. And the Plan means a narrative death: it was always impossible for Dream to win without completely losing himself.

And just as explicitly, for Tommy and Tubbo, WINNING MEANS TOMMY'S DEATH. Tommy goes to Tubbo with a plan of his own, one he's been obsessing over for months and months: let's kill Dream. But even before nukes are involved, it's obvious to anyone with eyes how self-destructive this plan is. Tubbo points out over and over how unhealthy this obsession is! Killing Dream means Tommy dying too: a moral death, killing someone in their own home who hasn't done a thing to provoke you in a year. A symbolic death, because Tommy is wholly unable to move on while he is still so preoccupied with Dream. And a literal death, when Tommy becomes the lure to be targeted by Tubbo's nuke, and Tubbo signed off on that violence.

There’s a REASON Tommy was alone when he faced Dream in the final stream. There's a reason that Tubbo was with him when he made his disastrous decision to kill Dream, and Tommy was only able to hold out his hand to Dream when Tubbo wasn't there, and when he'd told Punz to shut up and let Dream talk.

Dream wasn't the only one who stepped off the ledge at the eleventh hour: Tommy stepped off too! Tommy and Dream were both in the act of self-annihilation, and both of their best friends had signed on to the whole thing!!

Tubbo was Tommy's death, and Punz was Dream's. That doesn't make their loyalty, their love, their dedication, less true: but it does make it so, so, so damn tragic.

Tommy and Dream had their friends telling them yes, when what they needed was for their enemies to tell them no.

To come off the ledge, to let go, Tommy needed to see Dream: he needed to understand the terrible lie that Dream had been telling him and understand that the violence could end. To come off the ledge, to let go, Dream needed to be seen by Tommy: he needed to understand the truth of the hurt he's caused and the hurt he's felt and understand that what he wanted was actually something so unbearably simple.

#dreblr #c!dream #c!punz #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!discduo #c!stagedduo #genuine finale #c!tommy and c!tubbo

[razor-tits]

A very long and over due life update.

So, to start this off I guess I need to back up. Let's start in October. It feels like yesterday but also a lifetime ago. Things were...ok I'd say. Boring, routine, the only shake up was my hormones ran out and my job was changing our insurance, so I had to cancel my follow up appointment for bloodwork and a refill. But then I got some bad news from my parents.

My dad had a heart attack and was in the hospital. He was ok, but he needed surgery. First they thought just a stent, but then decided he needed a triple bypass. I have a pretty good relationship with my parents, but we're kind of distant. I live a few hours away and only see them around the holidays but we talk on the phone weekly. My dad can lean a little on the conservative side but both of them are the absolute salt of the earth. They're done so much to help me and I felt powerless to be able to help. I couldn't leave work and felt like there was nothing I could do.

The next couple weeks were rough, my dad was staying in the hospital, my mom was going back and forth staying with him and taking care of my grandma, who is in her late 80's and has a litany of health issues. On a Friday I finally managed to make the drive home and spend the weekend there. Seeing my dad laid up in a hospital gown tied to machines is something i'll never forget. He could get up and move and acted like he was ok. But he's one of those guys you meet and you think he's invincible. The kind of guy that put a new roof on our house with a broken finger and can't turn away a stray animal at the door. Some family members I hadn't seen in a long time came and went over the weekend. Thoughts of our own mortality set in and I realize this could be the last time I see any of them.

I've lost people before. Some of them suddenly and unexpectedly. Others who's death was almost a sigh of relief after fighting for so long. I never got to say goodbye when my friend died and I hope he knows how much he meant to me. I don't want to feel that again, ever.

The day of surgery came. He was in the OR for 3 hours but it felt like an eternity and a second at the same time. A few hours after that my mom and I were able to see him. He was extubated already, which was a good sign. But he was on heavy medication, incoherent, coming in and out of sleep. But he knew I was there and that's all that mattered.

I had to leave and make my way back to my parents to get my dog, and then make the 2 hour drive back to Ohio and go back to work in the morning. At this point I knew my dad would be ok, he just had to get through recovery. But now thoughts of my own health were worrying me. I'm not in the best shape, I don't exercise or work out. I've already had surgery to fix stomach problems. Everyone on my dad's side has heart problems, and everyone on my mom's side has cancer and diabetes. There's not much I do to prevent any of that. I'm in my 30's and I feel it, maybe more than I should.

Over the next couple months my mental health continues to fall. I had a birthday and spent it sick, as I always seem to do. It's always a rough time of year for me. Seasonal depression kicks in, I get older, and another year passes. My dog, my best friend, the reason I kept myself alive, is getting old. I see it more and more every day and it breaks my heart.

The holidays came and went. I saw my grandma for the first time in a few years. Always wondering if it will be the last. Despite that, this year I never felt less in the holiday spirit. I used to love this time of year, now I desperately try to enjoy it, but part of me just wants it to be over. The best part seems to be a few days off work.

At this point it should be noted I have not restarted hormones. My identity has always been more in flux than i've let on, and maybe that needs to be it's own post, but I don't know if I want to start again or not. I don't know what I want, I don't know what my goals are. I don't know who i am. Beyond basic hygiene, I really don't even feel like taking care of myself most days. I pretty much always feel melancholic. I'm not angry, I don't get excited, I don't have much joy. My sex drive is non existent and I have no desire to do...well, anything.

New year's comes and I honestly couldn't care. It feels like another day. My gf and I go out and have an Ok time. I'm just so tired all the time it's hard for me to go out and enjoy myself like I used to.

And then, a couple days ago my landlord calls. We have to move out. Not sure when, but probably soon. I'm heartbroken and panicking over it. We absolutely love our house. We've only been here about a year and a half but it's been wonderful. It has plenty of room, privacy, it's quiet. We can leave our doors unlocked and packages aren't stolen off our porch. We're allowed both of our dogs and all 3 of our cats with no issues. We've invested so much time and money here. My gf is close with the owners and their children, who were the previous tenants. We even thought about trying to buy this house off of them when their other kid moves out of the downstairs apartment. And it's affordable. Anything else like what we have now will cost double and we can't afford that.

Our last apartment was tiny, cramped, dark and ran by an awful property investment company. And now we have to deal with that again. If we can even find a place where we can take 5 animals. We can hide 2 of the cats, but not all of them. We're in no position to buy nor do we have the time to go through the process. My gf said we may have to find 2 different apartments and live separately for a while. Just the thought of that brings me to tears. I can't live without her, I can't live without our pets. We're a family. I don't know what to do.

Since I got the phone call I've done nothing but panic, contact rental agencies and weigh my options. None of them are good. Best case scenario is we move in a smaller, worse place, paying more rent.

Nothing is going right for me. I know this isn't insurmountable and nothing that people haven't gone through before. But...god damn I need a break and I can't get one.

#i just needed to vent #dont reblog

[nikonyash]

Voice Message || Gojo, Nanami, Fushiguro M., Okkotsu, Itadori

Fluff. JJK men sending you voice message while they're away for days

GOJO SATORU

The message will only come whenever he remembers

So in average, once per 3 days....

The duration is about 2-3 mins long. He will only talk about food he tries, bragging about his strength, and amount of cursed spirit he has defeated

Sometimes, you will hear either explosion or Yuuji & Nobara bickering in the background

"Did you sleep with my shirt and hugging my pillow? Poor angel~"

"I wonder why Nanami never appreciate my message? Pretty sure I said 'penis' repeteadly!"

You need to hold back the urge to smash your phone every time you listen to his message

End the recording with a teasing tone, and you wish you can teleport to his place to punch then squeeze him in a hug (no need to be in order)

"Don't be shy to reply to my message and say you miss me. I won't laugh."

"Oh, and don't touch yourself. Don't touch what's mine. Okay?"

NANAMI KENTO

The message comes every morning and night in a short duration, 2 mins is the maximum

Will summarize things he will do and had done for the day. Pretty much like a report, but it gives you the idea of what he does, plus make you less worry

And that's actually his goal. He understands you tend to overthink when he's not clear about something

He also sent some pics of him because you ask him to. You just love this man and his effort so much 🥰

"Stop staying up late. And don't spend your money on junk food."

"I will try to come home soon."

There will be a short pause in his message, sign of him considering next words he's gonna say.

"If you would, I'd like to hear back from you. Even better, a video message."

"Only to make sure you're also still, uhm, alive."

A big smile would never leave your face after his message. You end up doing your makeup before recording a video for him

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Another one that sends short message

Complaining why he should send you voice message every day. But will still do it anyway

His message always comes in the morning

Just like Nanami, he will share his plan for that day

"I just woke up, and going to the city in 15 mins. Looking at the progress, I think it won't take long until I come home."

Somehow, his raspy voice sends fog to your brain, and you have to pause the message, take a deep breath, then play it again without thinking to touch yourself

"I find it odd how you only reply with photos and text. I want you to send me voice message too, in the morning, lunch time, and night."

"You're not the only one that miss their partner, you know."

You land pecks on your phone screen and curl up on your bed. Smirking, to the thought of him flustered as he's saying that line.

You will reply promptly, teasing him along the duration for his effort to stay flat

The guy will listen to it in his burning cheek and swear to punish you when he's home

OKKOTSU YUUTA

Every night, you can assure one of your phone notifications comes from him

He sends a long message, sharing every thing he has done that day 😭 ♥

It's about 7 mins in average but you don't mind listening to it

He's excited to talk about pretty sceneries, foods, cursed-spirits, interesting people he encounters

Every thing he saw always remind him to his friends and you

"Panda would be happy to play with zebra and elephant here! Oh, do you think Maki will be happy to get a traditional weapon? I also found a triple face sculpted mask and I remember Inumaki!"

"I want to go here with you. Not for missions, I guess. I'll take you to this cafe I found!"

"If you're not busy, maybe we can call? I think I haven't heard your voice for years."

"Please don't get bored hearing this, but I miss you."

You will replay the message before sleeping as it's the best lullaby in the world

ITADORI YUUJI

King of short message

But will send A LOT in a day.

Some of the message will just calling out to you. While some of them only random talks with some details of his activity that he casually mentions

"Baaaabe I miss you."

"I'm in the city right now. Didn't expect it to be this crowded! Kugisaki forced Fushiguro to take pics of her in crosswalk."

"I'm eating now. Their dessert is bomb!"

"Baaabe, what you doin'?"

He's too precious and of course you will reply to every thing 🥺 ♥

"I promise I'll be home soon. Please please hug me and I want my kisses!"

The voice message has failed to treat your longing of your boyfriend. Now you yearn for him.

#jjk x y/n #jujutsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #jjk okkotsu #okkotsu imagines #okkotsu yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo imagine #gojou satoru #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami #fushiguro megumi #megumifushiguro #fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro fluff #fushiguro x you #nanami x you

[spicesweet]

tips on how to stay motivated in your fitness journey?

my first step was figuring out what "fitness journey" I truly wanted to take, which for me happened by accident. I tried lots of gyms over the years and I think the longest I've kept a membership was 9 months; I never fell in love with the process, hated going, hated the atmosphere, hated being seen all the time, hated having the trainers coming up to me and telling me what to do. I think a lot of people unfortunately go through this same issue and, when they can't get to that "honeymoon phase" with their gyms, they feel like fitness as a whole isn't for them; it was certainly that way for me, I thought I was just some fat lazy idiot doomed to never get better because I wasn't one of those girls who just looooove to get down to their neighborhood gym. but then when the pandemic came, and gyms weren't even an option, I decided to give yoga a try, and I discovered that yoga was the opposite of everything I hated about gyms: it was individual, quiet, at home, didn't require expensive equipment... and I finally fell in love with the whole thing. I was just barking up the wrong tree the whole time.

so the first tip is: don't be fooled into thinking that you need to get down to a gym and follow a personal trainer's routine to get fit. what matters is moving, so find what kind of movement makes you feel alive and delighted, what kind of movement really gets you going, and expand on that. if you insist on a method you don't like, you'll never be able to create a routine around it, to build a long-lasting relationship with it.

the second tip is to not consider it a X-months long commitment, but rather a lifestyle change. don't do fitness as a way to lose Y pounds in Z weeks because summer is coming or because you have a big party. people need to keep moving until they can't anymore, and you should consider a fitness routine as more than a means for a cosmetic change. sure, wanting to lose weight and change your shape is the champion of reasons why people get into it, but you need to move anyway regardless of whether or not you're satisfied with your body's appearance. treating movement and fitness as part of your lifestyle will make you more comprehensive and patient with the process, it'll ease anxiety, pressure and your inner saboteur, and make your goals more realistic, because rather than thinking you need to be hardcore for a couple of months to get to a certain result, you'll be aiming at a forever deal, and you'll understand that progress takes time.

another tip is: if you are in fact starting it due to being overweight and wanting to change that, don't expect change to come easy and fast, and don't expect to simply flick an internal switch that will magically make you not do any of the bad habits that turned you overweight (if your case is not genetic/pathological). if you've been a sedentary overeater for years, you won't suddenly become a salad-loving marathon-runner just because you got some nice hot yoga pants and pilates gear. it'll take a long time to re-shape your habits, your mindset, your routine, your body. I'm speaking fully from experience as someone who tried for a whole ass decade to go from sedentary overeater to little bird in a week, so trust me on that.

consistency is key, but also patience. you just have to bite the bullet on this one. if you don't get patient, you'll just burn out, give in to frustration and impulsiveness, and the results won't come.

and, I mean, this one is not really a tip because it's not as simple as choosing (which I also know from experience) but I'll say it anyway: starving doesn't work. starving is not a sustainable weight loss tool, starving is self-harm, plain and simple. there are girls reading this right now who are hurting from hunger pangs this very moment and still gaining; I follow a bunch of them and I see them struggling every single day with shame and horror as they step on a scale after 24+ hours of not eating and still see the number go up. if it was as simple as that, just shutting your mouth and not eating for days, honestly, edblr wouldn't be full of overweight and depressed girls. I'm not trying to be rude here, I'm literally just saying it how it is, from the perspective of someone who still struggles with disordered eating patterns and intrusiveness.

so to sum it up: find out what works for you ☆ be consistent but slow, steady, patient ☆ keep in mind that old habits die hard, but you can work hard too ☆ don't expect a malnourished and weak body and deeply depressed and stressed mind to be able to work hard ☆ all your efforts need to come from a place of love, because hate burns fast and ineffectively as I've written about here.

I hope this helps, and as usual, come back if you want to talk some more about it . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

#loveletters #clean girl #it girl #girlblogging #this is a girlblog #dream girl #becoming that girl #that girl energy #wonyoungism #self confidence #self care #self improvement #self development #self love #girl journal #self growth #wl journey #wellness girl #health and wellness #pink pilates princess #it girl mentality #healthy lifestyle #dream life #level up journey #becoming her #healthy girl #healthy living #personal development #wl diary

[the-blind-geisha]

Onward to 2024

I know I have a few days till the year ends but meh. I'll write it now!

This year was far more productive for me after the prior year tried to take me out several times. While my new found health issue which may or may not persist left me in a state to constantly produce stuff in worry I'd never get the chance, it was still nice to look at the WIPs I got done.

Having finished The Demon King of the Desert was my main goal. I was so happy to have it finished, and be it on AO3 or Wattpad, I am glad it was loved as it was. ♥ While I would love to go back, revise, and pimp it out to be something far more explored in some areas, I plan to wait a moment before doing so. The original ending was something a bit different and the beginning was so rushed because I only hoped it would be 10 chapters. But, well, things run away from me.

The characters are still very much alive in my heart, and who knows—maybe I'll do the in-between idea of what Demiurge and Gerdu were up to during their absences (as well as do a ref sheet of Gerdu).

I do want to work more on my Patreon. I wanted to work on one for years, and now I have reasons to work there behind the scenes.

While all my mature things will remain there, the rest will gradually become public. I do have some comics I want to work on, that'll begin there and slowly drift to public spaces in due time. ♥

The King of Boos as well as a few other scenes I'd love to turn into comics from my King Boo / Reader story will be there. Sadly, as it stands, the first one won't be released till I am done with You're the Inspiration. Just because of how the two coincide with one another a bit. But it will eventually!

Because of my desire to dive into my childhood once more, I will be working on a few things with Violetta, my new Mario OC, and maybe make a self-insert OC in general since I want to do something with Rosalina too. She's my queen, sorry. ;^;

In general, I want to get some comic-ing done. I love comics, even if they take me forever to do at times. I figure Patreon will be my go to!

I also have some monster stories (and ref sheets for some of my boys, gals, and in betweens) in the works. I just have a massive to-do list that's bigger than my backside, so stuff will come out as needed!

I will do my best to try and work on using my artist tablet more over my mouse. While I want to continue using my mouse just so a broken tablet can't stop me from ever doing digital art, I do want to try and feel comfortable using an artist tablet all the same. ♥

2023 really opened up a lot of ideas for me. I redid my reference sheets too, which I am glad I didn't get far in those, or I would have screamed at the many I'd have to redo. But I plan on redoing the old ones and moving to a better future with them.

Oreana and Ignatius' story will continue at some point as will another story I may put into comic format if I can draw creatures better again. ♥ It's an old idea inspired by a fanfic of epic craziness that I still have a fondness for that was done in my pre-net days when I was a kid.

Anywho! Hoping for a brighter, just as productive, new year! Stay safe, everyone, and thank you all for your support!

#i looked at oreo and iggy's story on AO3 #and was shocked people were subbing to it #whoops. sorry. i keep forgetting to go back! #i will return to it soon #and my demi/oc story will still be worked on #just gotta motivate myself! #much love my dears #mod talks

[tofapam]

BLOOMING LIGHT: LOUSIANA

Yandere Ethan Winters x Reader

Warning:Gore

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

(Name) was sent to Louisiana for work 3 years after Mia's going missing, she work as a quality control system.

She tried to move on from him knowing he's married now and knowing what she did is wrong.

She cut off all contact with Ethan before Mia's went missing, she never hear the news about her so she doesn't know anything about his missing wife.

'Work, money, work, money, and work' that's what in her head.

When she arrive at her new work place she feels her stomach drop.

It was a mess, blood, dead body, and falling debrises almost everywhere.

(Name) feels so horrified for what she's seeing and the worst part is the place doesn't smell like carrion so their dead body's still new.

She tried to run away before Lucas Baker caught her.

She ended up in the Baker house.

Lucas drag her to his sick room after it.

We got happy news and bad news.

The happy news is she manage to escape from him the bad news is she got many wounds cause of his sick games and traps that make it harder to move and escape from this horrifying house.

Without weapon and bandages she doesn't even know she can make it out alive or not.

she lay down in a pile of trash slowly dying from having a bloodloss.

A few minutes later she hears foot step coming her way.

"(Name)?! Oh god!"

She feels someone pick her up and put her down somewhere carefully.

When she open her eyes she saw someone busy looking for something.

When he kneels down (Name) widen her eyes.

It's Ethan, it's Ethan freaking Winters.

"Sorry this might hurt,"he tries to take care of her wounds gently and slowly.

"I never thought we would meet again in a place like this."

Ethan said that she need to stay in Zoe's van because of her wounds.

When she slightly get better she helps him and finally get a gun to defend herself.

(Name) was too tired to realize how he always stare at her.

(Name) became a really helpful partner for him.

And finally the cure they have 1 cure in their hand, but sadly Ethan use the cure to beat Lucas.

So now the cure is only on (Name)'s hand.

(Name) wants to choose Zoe but she knows how Ethan loves his wife and it is the main goal,"I'm so sorry, Zoe."

Oh how wrong is she.

Ethan's snatch the cure from (Name)'s hand, put it on the ground and step on it until it breaks.

Everyone was shock.

"Ethan! Why did you do that!?" "That was the key to save us!" "What is wrong with you?!"

He takes (Name)'s hand and pointing a gun at Zoe and Mia,"Get out off my way or i'll shoot."

"Ethan we can still sa-"

"Get on the boat, (Name)," (Name) looks at both of them with pity.

When she tried to talk,"I said get on the boat, (Name),"her words are cut.

She slowly sit on the boat with Ethan following her.

"i'll send help,"(Name) tried to convince them they can still be save knowing they feel hopeless.

Ethan silently sit.

(Name) sit with tense body, is this how Ethan feels when she killed their college friends?

"I'm sorry i talk to you that way,"that voice again, the gentle voice that makes her melt and would do anything for him just for her to hear that voice.

She hates it so much.

She doesn't even dare to open her mouth.

Ethan and (Name) get caught by Eveline after it.

Ethan's being captured by Eveline while (Name)'s still perfectly alive.

She helps Mia when she found her and work together.

(Name) says sorry every second they're together,"Look this isn't your fault, so please stop apologizing!"

It was awkward but (Name) tries to comfort her and protect her as best as she can.

Then they finally meet Ethan.

Mia start losing control of herself, rather than kill her, (Name) tell him to run away rather than kill his wife.

Ethan still try to kill Mia, and he did it.

Now, Eveline.

They're so desparate to come at her to end all of this.

At the end both of them finally get save by Chris Redfield.

She see he threw his phone away,"we made it."

"Yeah, it's finally over,"the amount of guilt she has is agonizing.

#resident evil #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #fanfic #writing #yandere

[saffronapplemanga]

Untitled Blue - アンタイトル・ブルー

DRAMA, MYSTERY

Untitled Blue by Natsume Yukiko

(2 volumes, ongoing)

JP only - English summary in this post

Links to my other manga posts here

I've started out this year strong by completely ignoring my 2023 Manga Reading Goals post, which is very on-brand for me tbh, with Momo's Medical History, Yume no Shizuku Kin no Torikago, A California Story, and probably other stuff I'm forgetting. I have my reasons so leave me be. I decided to actually consult my list this time and was debating between Untitled Blue and Tenjou Renka. Knew practically nothing about either but went with Untitled Blue after skimming the samples for each. All I DID know beforehand was it had something about art and suicide, that's it. (***Trigger warning for suicide*** because it is indeed in there.)

This one’s for you Colleen *finger guns*

Once again, since this isn't available in English, I'll summarize it like I always do for Japanese-only manga. Spoilers for volumes 1-2 will be labeled and my thoughts will be after that. Twitter reading thread here. Twitter link to this post here.

***SPOILERS FOR VOLUME ONE***

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Anyone else get labeled a “gifted/honor student” growing up? Ugh…

Ogihara Akari was called an art prodigy as a child but fizzled out when she got older. On her way home one day, she swings by the ocean to scavenge driftwood for the art prep school she works at. To her surprise, while she's there a young man emerges from the ocean in front of her eyes. Akari offers to call for help but the boy tells her not to. If she does, he'll die right here, right now. Unable to walk away, Akari brings him home where he proceeds to pass out on her couch. She tries to find an ID but instead finds an expensive watch engraved with the name of a big financial conglomerate.

It’s fine! On my second day in Japan way back when, I got in a stranger guy’s car in Ishinomaki who was fixing graves without a second thought because I got lost looking for the ferry. Sweet guy! I’m alive and didn’t get kidnapped! Don’t tell my mom... Don't do what I do guys, be safe. I speak Japanese and knew what I was doing.

The boy wakes up and wanders into a storage room in the house that's full of art supplies. When Akari realized where he went, she finds him painting and having read about her youth. While watching him paint, she sees childlike joy in him and he produces a beautiful piece of the beach where she found him. She asks him if he does Japanese painting but he says it was his first time using that kind of paint. FYI 日本画 nihonga or Japanese painting uses a specific type of paint. More info here. I met a nihonga artist who was getting ready for an exhibition at the art prep school I used to go to in Tokyo and I realized, "Wow, there's a lot about nihonga I don't know." I've seen nihonga materials at art supplies stores like Sekaido Shinjuku and PIGMENT TOKYO in Shinagawa, and I don't even know where to start tbh.

I mean, look at all this. At least there's cool stuff to look at on the long hike to the immigration office - PIGMENT TOKYO (Shinagawa)

The boy suggests that they sell his work under Akari's name because for reasons, he can't put his name out there. She insists that it won't be so simple but he goes, "You're a former prodigy. Let's just list it for like ¥800,000 or whatever."

¥800,000??? Sir??????? At first, I thought he said ¥80,000 which is like, yeah okay. But honestly? Ask for your worth artists!

Akari is envious that he was able to capture the feeling of the beach when she had drawn the same scenery over and over, but failed. Her work wasn't valued, but his painting of the beach actually sold for ¥800,000. Not only that, it was bought by Iwakura, a well-known artist in the nihonga scene. Akari thinks that the boy should come forward as the artist of the piece. Instead, he asks her how much time ¥800,000 would buy him to stay at her place and says, "Let me borrow your name and I'll give you fame and fortune." I am... screaming.

This is making me feral, both in a friendship way and a potential romance way. Porque no los dos?

While he's telling Akari that he thinks she never wanted to give up on art, her little brothers come home. She tells the kids that this stranger is... going to be living with them... Middle schooler Toma is a sweetheart who invites him to dinner, while high schooler Nagisa is also a great kid but more skeptical, pokes and prods, and is against it. We find out the boy's name is Omi and learn that Akari's parents died 8 years ago. Omi convinces Nagisa to let him stay because he'll make them ¥10,000,000. Nagisa agrees because he wants to make sure they can send Toma to college.

Later, Omi and Akari are talking and she asks him if he's somehow related to the financial conglomerate. She also expresses hesitation in letting him crash with them. This seems to hit a sore spot for Omi who feels like a burden and clearly has baggage.

Oof…

They discuss their arrangement and Omi talks about carving themselves into the world and having something to leave behind. One thing leads to another, and Akari ends up getting featured on Iwakura's TV show and a spot in an art gallery. She has a few close calls where she was at risk of getting exposed for not being the artist behind the piece. Akari's sudden success has also led to others feeling animosity toward her. However, Akari starts to show signs of coming into her own, and acknowledging her "sins." It looks like she's going to try and really get back into painting herself. Volume one ends with a “long-time fan” of Akari's coming to the gallery and confronting her, claiming that he knows she's lying.

***SPOILERS FOR VOLUME TWO***

The “fan” seems to know something is up, possibly that Omi is staying with Akari. It seems like he might be some gangster or perhaps works for the big financial group? We’re not told who he is yet.

Akari starts putting her all into art and taking it seriously. Back at the Ogihara household, Toma is showing an interest in art as well. Nagisa however, snaps at his siblings. I think it's from a place of worry for their future as well as discomfort with all the changes since Omi showed up. His outburst reminded me of parents who want their kids to pick “safe” paths that are more likely to lead to a secure future, hence why he’s so worried about sending Toma to college. They’ve all had to grow up quickly after losing their parents.

Nagisa runs off and everyone goes looking for him. During their search, Akari's mind starts spinning, feeling guilty for ever letting art come before her brothers and dropping the ball at home. Since their parents passed, she's had to step up as the eldest. She thought that as long as she could protect her family, she'd be fine, even if that meant giving up on her dreams.

While my life is not beat-for-beat like Akari’s, there are A LOT of similarities and… oh man… this hurts…

Stuck trying to balance sacrificing for the people she loves, part of Akari can't give up on her passions for her own sake. After she finds Nagisa, she tells him to watch her paint. He goes on to say that he's worried she'll get hurt again, so she tells him, "I hope you'll be there to help me so I can come out of it okay." Which, omg, yes. Allowing yourself to ask for help and not shouldering everything alone is good! All these kids are just so precious, honestly.

Meanwhile, Omi gets a letter from the Amasawa financial group which sends him into a mental spiral. We don't get to see what's in the letter exactly, but he starts to think things like, "I'm running out of time." We later find out the letter is threatening to drag the Ogihara family into things if Omi doesn't contact them.

Hello darkness my old friend~

Akari goes to check on him and takes him outside for a change of pace, where they discuss some plans to participate in an art fair. Omi seemingly out of nowhere tells Akari they should have a contest and, "If you win, I'll give you your name back." Of course, Akari is confused as to what he means and turns him down.

In the second half of chapter 7, Toma is skipping school for the first time ever. The "fan" guy, whose name is Hijiri, had run into Toma before and takes him on a ride on the back of his motorcycle. Basically, this grown-ass man is trying to build camaraderie with a literal child so he can use him to get at Omi. He manipulates Toma's insecurities and I hate it. Toma, sweetie, get away from him!!!

I’m gonna throw hands, I swear if he touches a hair on Toma's head (ง’̀-‘́)ง

It turns out Hijiri is Omi's cousin, specifically the son of Omi's younger paternal uncle. Because of this, Omi was set to be the heir of the Amasawa family, leaving Hijiri to live in his shadow. To make matters worse, Hijiri's dad was a hobby artist and started giving Omi more attention when he showed greater artistic talent than his son. To make matters even worse, Omi has everything Hijiri wants, but he doesn't want it himself. Omi tells him that if he wants to be the heir, he can have the position, then immediately threw himself off a balcony and into a lake. Good lord... Hijiri is furious that his cousin doesn't appreciate everything he's been "blessed" with, and he's going to drag him back home to get money and stop the Amasawa group from looking down on him. Get help bro, sheesh.

I'll be brief about the second half of this volume:

We get loads of emotional beats that made me absolutely lose it. So much so, I actually shot up out of my seat and pulled a muscle LOL. The ending of volume 2 just... crushed me. I'm so upset and I need to know what happens next right this instant. I won't say much more as I think it would be best to read those parts for yourself when it's available. I know I keep saying this for a lot of my reads recently, but please license this.

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***END OF SPOILERS FOR VOLUMES 1-2***

As I mentioned in my Blue Period post, I'm an art kid. It's a big passion of mine. Having a well-written, realistically portrayed struggling artist/creative is always a plus in my book. I just wanna feel seen guys... This series delivers with a side of the kind of plot that we come to shoujosei for — chef's kiss.

The Ogihara family (including honorary member Omi) are lovable, interesting characters. I adore great sibling dynamics in stories, and this has great sibling dynamics! Akari and Omi are so different, but the same — two sides of the same coin? And Akari realizes this herself. Our main duo understand each other in some respects but don't at all in others. I liked how Akari understandably asks Omi personal questions the first day they met but doesn't pry when he clearly doesn't want to share. She leaves him be for the most part, not pestering him, but not to the point of letting him wallow around too much. But when she does push, it's from a place of caring and concern, and she does it in a way that makes that clear.

"How about a change of pace?"

"... Don't wanna... sounds like a pain."

"Oh, don't be like that! We're not going anywhere far." (Then she dragged him outside lol)

I'm sure some people are thinking, "You idiot, why are you bringing home some stranger and letting him live there? You don't even know who he is." And yeah, I feel that. But when Akari met Omi the way she did, she realized he was in a bad place, he was hurting, and desperately needed a hand to reach out to him. So, she took his hand. How could she leave him there? At the same time, I think Akari needed to meet him as much as he needed to meet her. I love that for them.

And Omi never crosses any lines with her. He doesn't have ulterior motives toward her in that way. There is potential romance, but there's no anime bullshit if you know what I mean. Omi is respectful, aware of the fact he's crashing at this stranger's house, and tries to contribute in his own way, albeit awkwardly. This guy was brought into this family and it warms my heart.

Initially, I was thinking that Akari would simply continue to be the face of the art while Omi produced it. I'm delighted to see that they're actually working together to be two halves of a whole! I think Akari was afraid to put her all into art while Omi might be putting too much of himself into his art. He's escaped a suffocating environment and could be going too hard pursuing the only thing he truly wants to do with his newfound freedom.

The art in Untitled Blue is lovely and does an amazing job of conveying how characters feel and nailing the mood in a scene. I enjoy the pacing as well.

Love it when you can feel a page!

This page feels like a visual representation of a panic attack but after the overwhelming thoughts, instead of the mental clarity she reaches here, your brain goes blank for a whole day. Glad you got the mental clarity route Akari.

These pages are sick, actual chills.

Speaking of art, there are some cool things that come up in the story. There's commentary on what makes art compelling, as well as scenes about art that's more realistic/photorealistic versus more stylized art.

"If you're getting this close to the real thing, why not just take a picture?"

"Is he serious? That's better than my drawing? It looks like something that took 5 seconds to draw." Isn't this basically what people say about Picasso's stuff? There was a line in Blue Period about this too.

I'm not saying photorealistic art is bad or less than. There are various opinions regarding this topic. A lot artists learn a foundation of what things are supposed to look like (still life, figure drawing, etc.) to learn the "rules" so they can break them. Some argue that "art normies" find realistic works more appealing than those with a more decerning eye. And this does come up in the manga.

There's also lots of talk about the value of art in various senses, and where they discuss the monetary value of art that I found interesting.

Yes, art is more than just the money, but artists are professionals that deserve to get paid well for their craft.

Loving the exploration of various ideas!

I'm not sure if this series is going to have romance or not, and whether it'll be more of a sub-genre or a big part of the manga. There are some incredibly tender scenes that could be taken as romantic, but could also be vulnerability and platonic love as well imo. MAL says it's drama/mystery/romance, but Renta! just has it listed under mystery/suspense, no romance, so idk. I'm cool with things being platonic or romantic as long as it's done well. Although, I kind of want more platonic relationships.

I'm reading this on Renta! and romance series like うるわしの宵の月/In the Clear Moonlit Dusk are tagged with 恋愛/romance. Untitled Blue doesn't have the tag though.

I was looking around to see if there was a release date for volume 3, but it turns out that there hasn't been a volume released since September 2021.

Volume 1 was released June 2021, and volume 2 was released September 2021.

But the mangaka tweeted this in November 2022:

"Untitled Blue volumes 1-2 are available 🎶 Volume 3 will release in the near future, so now's a great time to catch up 🎶”

Haven't seen any release dates, but it looks like we can look forward to volume 3 soon! I enjoyed Untitled Blue WAY more than I was expecting to and I can't wait to read more!!! After the end of volume 2, I need to know what happens... It actually made me tear up. I mean, aren't the best reading experiences the ones that make you bounce off the walls and scream at the page?

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If there's any Japanese-only manga you want me to check out, let me know! No promises, I'll only read what I'm interested in, but I'll take suggestions into consideration. Preferably, shorter manga or newer manga with a few volumes out since I like to take breaks from longer series I'm reading :)

#untitled blue #アンタイトル・ブルー #manga recs #manga recommendation #manga discussion #漫画 #おすすめ #shoujosei #josei #josei manga

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Someone anyone pls. My boyfriend has unfortunately had his phone broken so I haven't been talking with him, and I feel so lonely 😞 Also ALL OF MY FRIENDS LIVES ARE CRUMBLING APART?? My friend just broke up with her boyfriend, because of her mental health, but I suspect that it might be because of the boy she's been flirting with on the side. My other friends sibling is breaking up with their douche of a man, thank goodness. Two OTHER friends, who are literally bestfriend and have been for years, have been fighting eith eachother amd separating from our little group?? Also my dads been talking about death and I find myself looking at baby pictures of me and him with my grandma and great grandma, crying about thinkinf that I'm gonna be the only one alive in that picture some day. It also dawned on me that he's like the only person that I KNOW I'll have until we perish. We were watching mamma mia, and the whole time I kept thinking that I wished my mom loved me like Donna loved her daughter, and mentioned how I'd like to move into a little island or something. I guess my dad saw me holding back tears during the "slipping through my fingers" song, because he told me we could move to Alaska just he and I. (That's his dream place) PLEASE IM SOBBING THINKING ABT THE FACT HES NEVER BEEN.

Anyways, it made me think of my goal in life, and its to someday bring my dad to Alaska with me. Regardless if hes with me, just inside an urn. (I'm being so dead serious, I love my dad even if I went through some shit for most of my childhood. He's like the only person in my life who has stepped up, and made an actual change in his behavior for MY sake. It's admirable, and I've always been my fathers daughter. I'm just more proud to say it now after everything hes been through, and the changes hes gone through for my well being.)

I apologize about the rant, I fear that I've been holding that within me for so long. My friends don't really care about my personal life, and sometimes I'm glad that I keep it that way. ANYWAYS.

I realize that I haven't been in your asks, but I did follow through with that strike. Stayed off my phone unless it was to check about the updates for Palestine, and reposting. Didn't buy groceries, I even stopped going to classes for the time being. I'm sad to know that it's not getting any better, and I'm ashamed to say that my little town has very little businesses that DON'T support Israel. So I can't really avoid buying things from those places :(

Been keeping up with your writing though, for the most part. I'm very sad that it will come to an end, but I'm excited to see the ending. I'm ALSO EXCITED FOR INUMAKI 😻😻😻😻😻

Anyways, gonna go shower because I feel like a dirty corndog that was dropped at a fair. Wish me luck that I don't run out of warmish water, I always seem to do so because my hair is so hard to manage and I have like 10 different products that I have to put in it. (I'm being dramatic, I usually sit and let it do it's thing while I sing the weekend and deftones. 😞)

GOODNIGHT STAY WARM!!!!

Xoxo 👽

don’t wanna be mean but i’m glad ur bf broke his phone 😊 BUT JESUS WHY R ALL UR FRIENDS LIVES SIMULTANEOUSLY IN SHAMBLES ??? LIKE WHAT IS GOING ON HERE ???😭😭 that’s crazy… hopefully the two that have been friends for years figure their stuff out…

mamma mia will get u… it always will… (i’ve never seen it) BUT HE SAID U COULD MOVE TO ALASKA JUST U N HIM STOP IM SOBBING OH MY GOD??? that sounds like a very good life goal bae!! i’m sure he’d love that whether he’s actually with u or in an urn like u said!! and i’m super glad you have him and that he stepped out to make a change in himself for u i love that for u bae :( DONT APOLOGIZE FOR THE RANT ITS OKAY I DONT MIND !!

u haven’t but it’s okay!! i know you’ll pop up eventually LMFAO and yay for following through with the strike!! i really hope a lot of other people did as well.

YAY SO GLAD YOUVE BEEN KEEPING UP WITH MY WRITING N ARE EXCITED BAE🤞🤞🤞

A DIRTY CORNDOG THAT WAS DROPPED AT A FAIR HELEOEMEME LMFOAOA ENJOY UR SHOWER!! (whats ur favorite the weekend and deftones song…)

#axel answers ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ #axel answers// 👽

[no-hcpe]

God I hate being alive it's literally so fucking boring.

No friends, every friend I've ever tried to make has left me eventually. Even when I try to go do things with acquaintances I barely even enjoy it, and I can tell I'm the "backup" friend who they only hang out with when they're bored. I had a club I used to go to sometimes and I actually enjoyed that, but that has been completely fucking ruined and I literally can't show my face there anymore because my partner got falsely accused of harassing someone and everyone already had a vendetta against them, so they just took it at face value. So now everyone knows me as "the retarded bitch who never talks and got cucked by a harasser".

Family is boring as fuck, they do the same thing every single day of their lives. I care about my mom but I don't understand how she has a will to live when she works a boring job with coworkers she doesn't like? Thinking about living her Sisyphean hell actually makes me nauseous. I hate her boyfriend too.

I have a partner but the relationship is complicated and kinda makes me feel like shit sometimes. I care about them but they completely smother me and it's just not going to work out. Like I like being with them, but not enough to commit to like... being in a whole ass relationship anymore. Hanging out with them is also pretty boring, they just want to watch TV with me and that's really about it.

I'm trying to finish my master's thesis but I can't finish it because ... you guessed it ... writing it is SO FUCKING BORING. I HATE the fucking topic that I got stuck with but it's way too late to change it and I just have to force myself to power through and finish it so I can just fucking be done with it already. I am so fucking bitter that I got stuck with this topic because my fucking advisors barely gave me any help when I tried to tell them I wanted to find a different one. Now I'm the one stupid bitch in my graduating class that STILL HASN'T FINISHED IT EVEN THOUGH IT'S BEEN SIX FUCKING MONTHS SINCE EVERYONE ELSE FINISHED

But after I finish it, then what? I have literally... NOTHING that I actually want to DO in life. My singular life goal was to graduate from college, and I did it, and it wasn't even that fun. The only things I kinda sorta like are listening to music, watching funny videos/shows, playing Pokemon, and petting my cat. I can't come up with a single life goal that I actually want to stay alive for. I genuinely can't fathom being alive in 10 years, and if I am alive, I can't imagine not having gone absolutely insane from pure boredom. I'll have to become an alcoholic or drug addict or something just to have something to do. Forget 10 years, I can't even imagine what my day to day life will look like the day after I finish the stupid thesis.

Food is boring. Drinks are boring. Going for a walk is boring. Using the Internet is boring. Reading is boring. Dressing up is boring. Going to bed is boring. Waking up is boring. Pacing around the house is boring. Driving is boring. Work is boring. Everything ... is just ... so ... fucking ... boring ... and pointless.

#vent #depression #anhedonia #r slur #chronic depression #treatment resistant depression #AKA 'you're too smart to fool yourself into thinking life actually has a purpose' #sometimes i wish i was stupid. give me whatever algernon was smoking #life would be so much easier if i was just stupid and easily entertained #clarification btw i only ever use the word retarded in reference to myself. ur allowed to use slurs on yourself

[cumulohimbus]

Life Updates

This last weekend I went to a Pride fest a little over an hour away, and wild things ensued.

1. I ran into some friends I met at my local pride this last summer, and even though it took a second for us to recognize each other, it was phenomenal to see them. I ended up staying the night at their place (I'll get to why in a sec).

2. I ran into people I went to Catholic elementary/middle school with. They were running an art booth. It was cool to reconnect with people I'd shared a formative childhood experience with and not be the only one who ended up queer.

3. I ran into my now retired therapist, the one who helped me pursue an autism eval and who wrote the pivotal letter that allowed me to get top surgery. I gave him a hug. I'd only ever interacted with him virtually and he is much taller in person. He seems like he's happy and doing well.

4. I didn't see any furries about so I took it upon myself to don my mascot head, just to gauge the reaction. A lot of people came up to me and got pictures with me, including a mom and her kid who really loves furries. I don't even consider myself a furry; like, I don't participate in the community at all anymore. I just think my fursuit head turned out vvv cute, and I didn't spend around 2 years making it from scratch for it to just collect dust in a closet somewhere. It made me really happy that other people also thought it was cute. It was nice being Spark for a while.

5. I went to a drag show with my friends from the local Pride. We were in the front row. It was so cool to see professionals performing.

6. My friends and I went to an after party at a club. I'd never been to a club before and didn't know what to expect. It wasn't nearly as scary as I thought it would be until the end when the establishment closed and the cops were outside directing folks. While there I ran into someone I was in the Arts Magnet Program with in high school; they were there for their sister-in-law. They told me that whenever I'm ready, other former classmates would probably like to hear from me, and that they'd probably be more accepting of me than I realize.

I didn't achieve my goal of being kissed, but that's okay. I fell in love with my friends in more ways than I care to admit. Nothing more will come of it than friendship, and that's okay too. That's what I needed tbh. I realized the full extent of my loneliness and how badly I need friends right now. I didn't know how bad it was and now that I do, hopefully I can do something about it. I cried a lot, probably because I was more drunk than I've been in years. My friends let me stay at their apartment so I didn't have to sleep in my car.

7. The next day we went to a garden and saw lots of pretty plants and fountains, including the biggest, bluest Larkspurs I've ever seen in person before!!

8. I cried for approximately half of my drive back home. I probably should have pulled over, but I was running on less than an hour of sleep, and I had grad school homework I needed to finish before midnight, so I pushed through. I realized goodbyes have been getting harder. A couple of weekends ago when I visited college friends for the weekend, I cried for a long time on my drive home then too. It seems it didn't take long of being off T for my tear ducts to function again. Something else is wrong with me though, I shouldn't be crying so much over goodbyes; I have my suspicions. I'm sure a particular goodbye that happened more recently isn't helping, but mostly I think I just feel alienated from people like me where I live currently.

I need to get a new vehicle soon so I can travel more. I want to go on dates, both casual and serious, in the near future. I want to kiss and be kissed, if just to feel like I'm alive. I wish I wasn't a terrified kid in a 25 year old's body. I feel like I can't be taken seriously when it comes to romance because of the ways my trauma has broken me into the person I am today (tbf, being transmasc means I look like a 14 year old boy, so that doesn't help the whole maturity thing either).

I'm coming to terms with how much grief I carry with me everyday. I think that's the most alienating part of it all; I think that's where all the loneliness comes from.

Sadness aside, I really like grad school so far. It doesn't feel hard yet because it's all stuff that interests me. I also got a really nice scholarship package for my first year and that's pretty cool. I'll finally feel alright ordering the print copies of my book, Fidelity to share with friends/family. The sequel, Autonomy, is currently in the works. They're both basically zines that ended up being lengthier than initially intended, and they include a mix of poetry, prose, and photography. I know I don't really have a following here, but if it just so happens that you read all the way to this sentence, if you'd like a free pdf of Fidelity, hmu, I'd be happy to send one your way.

Be kind to yourselves, and stay curious,

-Lark

#the larkchive

[pompadourpink]

bonjour mom this might be a stupid question but i'm super interested in environmental protection and i'm trying to go vegan and buy less and all that jazz but everything is super expensive if it's local or it's okay but they have to fly it here etc and i understand your idea of only getting quality stuff but like i don't know yet what i like so i don't want to splurge (not that i could anyway) and i want to avoid amazon but it's super practical and at least it's for sure not a scam and i WILL get my package etc, and sometimes i do like a bit of dairy or i'll have birthday cake but i feel super guilty about it and i'm getting super anxious, do you have any advice??

Hello dear (and oh boy, this is going to be another wall of text),

I've been there. I went vegetarian with the hopes of becoming vegan back in 2012, went super minimalist, started to buy way less, switched to bulk and organic, got a menstrual cup, felt like I had to donate money I didn't have because others needed it more than me and felt awful every time I binned something thinking I actually didn't need that thing and that was a selfish decision, and it was so hard to see other people around me not caring about these things. It was eating me alive and making me bitter and sadder than a bag of rocks. It's a real thing called eco-anxiety and it's well-documented at this point so you can look it up.

In my case, researching capitalism and going to therapy were the key. Because little old me being vegan not only wasn't sustainable because I had personal issues with food and ADHD and it made it worse, but at the end of the day it's not going to be enough to annihilate centuries of specism and make the industry change its mind; just like little old me feeling guilty about buying ice cream because I was going to have to throw away the pot is the most insignificant thing in the world when you look at what Nestlé or cruise boats are doing to the planet.

Whatever you do, you will have to sacrifice something and it will never be enough - you've already noticed it. Change comes gradually, when people come together and stand against what's wrong, which has been harder to do these days where we routinely lose family members and friends to Facebook radicalisation. My advice is to do what I've been doing, after years of trial and error: putting myself first, staying realistic about my goals, practising empathy, remembering to be a role model rather than a preacher, and giving myself time before I make a decision.

I like you prefer to boycott Amazon but between shipping fees, delivery time, dodgy neighbours, prices, fear of scammers (...), I used it occasionally to get stuff whenever it felt like the best solution. But then, at the beginning of the pandemic, I bought face masks online from a French pharmacy, which cost quite a lot but I was trying to do the good thing. Three weeks later I received a white piece of plastic that looked like every package from Wish videos on Youtube from somewhere in China that contained the masks with a little note in broken English stating that those were only for fashion and couldn't be worn for medical reasons.

I did some research and realised that they bought the items for pennies on Aliexpress and got the suppliers to directly send me my order - it's a very scammy and common concept called drop shipping. If you're looking for anything brandless on Amazon (from sunglasses to hairbrushes to decoration and gym equipment), check out Aliexpress and your cart will go from 132,99 to 17 bucks in under five minutes. So after years of judging people who use Aliexpress or Wish, I started doing the same, because what I receive is the exact same thing, but there's no mediocre business tycoon wannabee making a profit on my behalf in between.

And ever since, I've rethought my beliefs. I no longer feel bad about wanting children even though every human being creates a lot of waste in a world where Kylie Jenner takes a private jet to avoid a 40-minute drive. I no longer feel bad about occasionally flying to go on vacation because I have only one shot at living and once in a while I deserve a break. I no longer feel bad about doing my nails even though I will have to buy and dispose of cotton buds because I'm tired of neglecting my happiness to avoid worsening problems I haven't even caused.

I still do what I can. I'm still conscious of what I do, don't waste water, buy all my clothes secondhand, donate money whenever I can and all that, but I'm at peace. I try and that's what matters in a world where succeeding is not an option.

Love,

Mum

#ask #malks

[creepypasta-archive]

Jeff the Killer: Recall

by Mikeyboi1225

Some story i found. Sorry i'm not adding my detailed descriptions as usual i've been running on fumes lately CW// Murder i guess. too long to read rn Click here for the unedited original story

Summary

After a nearly fatal car accident in the dark of night, a mysterious boy wakes up in a hospital with no memory of who he was before. His amnesia isn't the strangest about him: his face is scarred beyond recognition, wounds that didn't come from the accident. Taken in by the driver who hit him, the amnesiac settles into a daily routine. But when his memories begin to slowly return, a darkness begins to stir.

This story was inspired by two songs, one which tells the story of a monster who didn't know how to be anything else, and another where the singer looks upon his past misdeeds and seeks redemption for them. If you aren't fond of redemption stories, I recommend looking for an X Reader. There are plenty to be found. My goal in writing this tale is to take the Creepypasta characters I grew up with and tell a new story all my own. If that's the kind of thing you go for, then you've come to the right place.

If you enjoy the story, be sure to give it a kudo, and let me know what you think in the comments!

Chapter 1: The Accident

Walter Jefferson was tired.

He'd had a long, hard day at work. It was December 11th, and the Oakwood County Post Office was a busy place in the weeks leading up to Christmas. He'd gotten off at 10:30, and he was almost home. As he made the turnoff onto the road that led to his house, his cellphone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw that his wife Margaret was calling.

"Oh, I'm in for it now," he chuckled to himself. Walter answered the call, putting Margaret on speaker.

"Hi, Maggie," he answered cheerfully.

"Hey, Walter," replied Margaret. Unlike his, her voice was wide awake. "It's almost eleven at night. You haven't been abducted by aliens, have you?"

"As a matter of fact, I have, honey," he replied. "They've got big teeth and antennas, and they're pulling out all kinds of terrible devices. I think they're gonna probe me."

"Right," answered Margaret with a chuckle. "Can you tell them that if my husband isn't home in fifteen minutes, I'll have to blast their flying saucer out of the sky?"

Walter laughed with amusement.

"I'll pass on the message, honey. See you in a bit. I love you."

"I love you too, Walter," Margaret replied with a dramatic smooching noise. "Drive safely."

"I will," answered Walter, and hung up the phone.

"Always so worried about- OH MY GOD!"

Walter slammed his foot down on the breaks with all his weight. Someone was crossing the road. The pedestrian had appeared out of nowhere. Walter swerved to avoid him, but it was too late. The vehicle slammed into the figure like a rhinoceros, sending the body rag-dolling over the top of the car. Walter could hear it thumping as it rolled over the roof.

"Dear Lord," choked Walter as he tore off his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car.

He ran to the lifeless body in the road and rolled it face-up. It was a young man, around sixteen years old. He had on a white hoodie and black dress pants. The clothes were bloodied and battered, and blood oozed from the boy's skull.

Walter's stomach churned. He knelt and checked for a pulse. The boy was still alive! Walter ran to his car and grabbed his phone, frantically dialing 911. The voice on the other end responded quickly.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My name is Walter Jefferson, and I am at the intersection of Shaw and West! I just hit a guy with my car. He's alive, but he needs an ambulance!"

"Sir, please remain calm and stay on the line. Help is on the way."

"Thank you," answered Walter gratefully.

The young man's eyes fluttered open. He focused on Walter.

"Wha- what happened?" he asked weakly, his voice scarcely a whisper. "Where am I?"

"Oh, God," croaked Walter. "He's awake."

Walter dropped to his knees, taking the boy by the hand.

"I am so sorry," whispered Walter. "You're going to be alright, I promise. Help is on the way."

The young man's eyes lost focus, and he drifted out of consciousness.

Chapter 2: The Ambulance

"Look at me, buddy," said the paramedic as he gave the boy a shot of morphine. "Keep looking at my eyes, okay?"

The young man's eyes kept fluttering. He opened them and focused on the paramedic.

"Who- who are you?" he pleaded, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"My name is Mark. I'm a paramedic, and we're taking you to a hospital. I gave you some morphine to help with the pain. How are you feeling, buddy?"

The patient' s eyes closed.

"Woah, buddy," called Mark, gently slapping the patient's cheek. "Don't do that to me, alright? Just keep looking at my eyes.

"O-okay," slurred the patient.

"Good," replied Mark, smiling. "What's your name?"

The kid looked puzzled.

"I don't- I don't remember," he answered. His brow was furrowed deeply. Suddenly, his eyes grew wider than they already were.

"I can't remember my name! I can't remember anything! Why can't I remember anything?"

The patient tried to sit up, and then cried out in pain. Mark lowered him back onto the stretcher.

"You don't want to do that, buddy," Mark cautioned. "You've got some broken ribs. Just be still and stay calm. Jeffrey, hand me those sedatives. We need to calm him down."

The boy gasped twice, once from pain and once from realization.

"What is it, buddy?" asked Mark as he prepared the sedative shot. "What's the matter?"

"Jeffrey. . . my name. . . I remember. My name is Jeff."

He tried to sit up again, but Mark stopped him.

"Nice to meet you, Jeff. Can you lie still for me, Jeff?"

Jeff nodded his head obediently as Mark injected him in the shoulder with anesthesia.

"Everything's going to be okay, Jeff," said Mark with a soothing tone. "You just go to sleep."

"Uhhnn. . ." Jeff tried to speak, but before he could form the words, he had drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3: Room 114

"So, he just ran into the street?" the officer asked as he wrote Walter's account of the event down in a notepad.

"Yes," answered Walter, rubbing his hands together nervously. He sat in the waiting room of the Oakwood County Medical Center, telling his story to a policeman. "I didn't even see him until he was twenty feet away. I tried to brake, but it. . ."

Walter shook his head. The situation seemed surreal. Had he actually just struck a teenage boy with his car? It didn't seem possible.

The officer put a consoling hand on Walter' shoulder.

"You did a good job calling 911. Too many folks would have just panicked."

"Walter!"

Walter looked up to see Margaret running to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He stood up from his seat and embraced her.

"Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What happened? I was so scared, Walter!"

The officer stood, pocketing his notepad.

"I have everything I need for now, Mr. Jefferson. The department will contact you if we need anything else."

The officer turned to go, giving the couple a moment alone. Margaret buried her face in Walter's shoulder, wetting it with her tears. Walter struggled to find the words. He took a deep breath.

"Right after I hung up," he began, letting the momentum of his thoughts carry him along, "a kid - a teenager, I think - ran out in front of me."

"Oh, God," whispered Margaret.

Walter pressed his forehead against her shoulder, holding himself together despite the attempts of every one of his atoms to break down.

"I hit him, Maggie," he whispered into her ear. "I. . . I hit that kid. I don't even know if he's alive or not."

Margaret tightened her grasp on Walter, running a hand up and down his back to comfort him.

"It was an accident, Walter. He'll be okay. I'm certain of it."

Walter sobbed once into her shoulder, and clenched his teeth to keep himself composed.

"There was so much blood on him, Maggie. I-I've never seen so much. His clothes were soaked."

"Shhhhh," whispered Maggie, cradling the back of Walter' s head in her arms.

Just then, a nurse walked over to the waiting area.

"Walter Jefferson?" she asked, reading off her clipboard.

Walter pulled reluctantly away from Maggie, drying his eyes with his shirt collar.

"Yes, that's me," he replied.

"The boy is out of surgery. The doctor would like to see you. Please, follow me."

The nurse turned and walked into the hallway. Walter started after her, but stopped as he felt Maggie's hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Walter," she said reassuringly.

"Thanks, Maggie," he gratefully replied with one last look at his wife before following the nurse.

The nurse led Walter down a maze of hallways and doors. At length, she stopped in front of a door, Room 114. The metal "4" appeared to be falling off. Walter prayed that wasn't a bad omen.

"Wait here," ordered the nurse.

She walked off in the direction they had come, leaving Walter standing alone before the door of Room 114. He fidgeted nervously as he waited. Walter glanced into the room to see what he could see. He could just barely see the young man - his victim - lying in the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in gauze, but that wasn't what drew Walter' s attention.

Walter started into the room. He tried to stop himself, but he was in a trance. Step by step by step, he drew closer and closer to the sleeping patient. Soon, he was standing at the head of the hospital bed, looking down at the comatose teenager. The boy slept peacefully. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Walter stared down at the boy's face in horror.

My God, thought Walter. Did I do this to him?

The boy's face was horrifying. His eye sockets were scarred with gray patches, and his eyelids were mangled so that they appeared to be open. His cheeks were marred with deep gashes that curled upwards from his lips, twisting his face into a hideous, demonic grin.

At that moment, the boy's eyes focused on him.

"Walter Jefferson!"

Chapter 4: Good News, Bad News

"Walter Jefferson?" asked the doctor a second time.

Walter cradled hid chest in his hands. The boy's eyes darted off in another direction, then another. He was asleep. He hadn't looked at Walter at all.

"Yes," Walter replied, breathing heavily. "I'm Walter Jefferson."

"I'm sorry," the doctor apologized, looking at Walter with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Dr. Walton. I examined the patient as soon as they brought him in. There are a few things that you need to know."

Walter cleared his throat and nodded his head.

"Tell me."

"Fortunately," the doctor began, "there were no vital organs damaged in the accident. Now, he's got four broken ribs, a fractured clavicle, and a concussion, but he'll live."

Walter took a deep breath of hope and glanced over his shoulder at the boy.

"That's good. That's great!"

The doctor nodded.

"It is. Less so is my second piece of news."

"Go on," prodded Walter.

"The concussion seems to have caused some damage. According to the paramedics who brought him in and what little I could get him to say, the patient is amnesiac."

The color drained from Walter's face until he was paler than the boy.

"You mean he. . . oh God. . ."

The doctor nodded again.

"Unfortunately, he seems to have forgotten nearly everything about himself. He has no idea who he is or where he's from. We don't even know if he has any family we need to call," explained Dr. Walton. "The only thing we could get out of him was his name."

"What is it?"

"Jeff."

"Just Jeff?"

"He only remembers his first name."

Walter collapsed into a chair next to the hospital bed and put his head in his hands.

"So I took his face and his memories," Walter sobbed.

Dr. Walton cocked an eyebrow.

"What do you mean 'took his face'?"

"The wounds on his face," said Walter. "You can' t exactly miss them."

Dr. Walton cleared his throat.

"Those wounds aren't fresh. They're scars, and they certainly didn't come from the accident."

Walter looked up.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Those scars are old. He's had them for at least a few years," replied Dr. Walton.

Walter looked back at the face of the sleeping patient.

"Then where did they come from?"

Dr. Walton shrugged dramatically.

"That, along with everything else about him, is something we'd all like to know."

Chapter 5: Waking Up

His mind was blank, totally bereft of the thoughts and details that made up a person. He found himself swimming through a sea of emptiness. The dark, icy waves grasped and tossed, and he fought to keep his head above water.

Up ahead, he saw something floating, like an inner tube. He swam towards it, praying that he wouldn't sink. Three feet from the tube he lunged, but missed. The tube was thrown a little further away by the churning waves. He lunged again. This time, he caught the edge of it.

He clung to the tube for dear life, pressing his face into the side of it. As he did, he noticed a word painted on the side. It was written in rough, scratchy letters that dripped red down the side: Jeff.

His name. The only memory he had left, and the only thing keeping him above the churning sea of despair. He looked down through the hole in the tube's center. He froze.

A hideous face grinned back at him from the water. Its features were twisted into a lopsided, nightmarish smile that went beyond frightening. Its eyes were wider than seemed possible, and edged with dark circles that added a manic hunger to them.

The fiendish face spoke.

"You can't escape me," it said. "I'll find you again. Now, go to sleep- er, I mean, wake up."

Jeff blinked.

"WAKE UP!"

Jeff bolted upright in his hospital bed, breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. The window was open, letting the sunlight in. His head felt like a blacksmith had been using it for an anvil. He tried to look down at himself, but his head wouldn't move. His neck was in a brace, and his collarbone burned when he tried to move his head.

Must be broken, thought Jeff.

He moved his hand along his chest. There were thick bandages.

Ribs broken as well.

Just then, a nurse came into the room, rolling an IV drip along with her. When she saw Jeff was awake, she smiled warmly and waved.

"Good morning, Jeff," she said with pleasant sweetness. "I'm Nurse Elayna, and I'll be taking care of you."

Jeff found himself looking at Elayna for a long time. She had a headful of curly red hair and deep blue eyes. She was very pretty. Finally, he forced himself to speak.

"Hi, Elayna," he said. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Oakwood County Medical Center. Do you remember what happened?" she asked.

Jeff sighed.

"I don't remember much. My name. I remember bits and pieces of the accident. The headlights. The pain. And the angel."

Nurse Elayna looked puzzled.

"Angel?"

"He was there," assured Jeff. "He was standing behind the driver who hit me when he called 911. He was so tall. He said. . . he said. . ."

Elayna stood by the IV drip expectantly.

"What did the angel say?" she asked encouragingly.

Jeff shrugged, which led to a sigh of pain.

"I don't remember."

Nurse Elayna nodded compassionately.

"That's understandable. You have a concussion. It also seems that, as a result, you have amnesia. You've lost your memory. Well, most if it."

Nurse Elayna exchanged his IV bag and then turned to face him.

"Can I get you anything, Jeff?"

Jeff looked back at Elayna.

"There is one thing," said Jeff quietly. "Could you bring me a mirror?"

Nurse Elayna pursed her lips and looked away.

"The doctor will be in soon," she answered. "He will be able to take care of that for you."

Before Jeff could respond, Nurse Elayna hurried out of the room.

Chapter 6: Breakfast at the Jeffersons'

Margaret was having trouble getting Walter to go back to bed. It was Saturday, the day after the accident, and his Christmas vacation had begun. And he was absolutely miserable.

They had gotten home from the hospital at 3:30 AM, and they had gone straight to bed. Or, at least, Margaret had. Walter had turned on the television and plopped down on the couch. He stared blankly into space, ignoring the TV. At five in the morning, he had finally come to bed. He had slept until seven. He simply couldn't get the boy - Jeff - off his mind.

"He doesn't remember anything," Walter had told her. "He knows nothing about himself. That's on me."

"No, it isn't," Margaret had told him. "You can't blame yourself for an accident. Anyone could have hit that boy. It just happened to be you."

Now, he sat at the kitchen table, staring at the clock. Margaret walked over and sat down next to him.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

Walter shook his head.

"How about some coffee?"

Same response.

"Visiting hours start at eleven," said Walter. "I'd like visit him sometime this week."

He fixed her with a pleading look.

"Will you come with me? I want to talk to him. To Jeff."

"Of course I will," she said, taking his hands in her own. "I am just as worried about that boy as you are. I just want you to stop beating yourself up. Skipping breakfast and depriving yourself of sleep aren't going to help him. You know that, right?"

Walter turned his head to look into her eyes. His own, she saw, were filled with tears. He took a deep breath.

"I know, Maggie," he said. "I'm. . . scared, is all."

"I know you are," she told him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I am too. But it's going to work itself out. I know it is."

Walter wiped his eyes and kissed her back.

"What would I do without you?"

"Fall on your face," she answered. "Now sit tight. I'll make you some scrambled eggs and coffee. You're going to eat, understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Walter as Margaret stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Chapter 7: Reflections

Dr. Walton stood outside Room 114, looking in at his patient. The boy called Jeff was awake, staring straight up the ceiling. Not that he much choice, considering the condition of his eyelids.

Poor kid, mused Dr. Walton. Who are you? And what the hell happened to your face?

Dr. Walton pushed the door open the rest of the way and entered.

"Hello, Jeff. I'm here with your eye drops," announced the doctor. He approached Jeff's head and looked down at him with a wide, friendly grin. "How are you feeling?"

Jeff looked up at him and grinned weakly. It was strange, since the gashes in his cheeks made Jeff appear to be grinning already.

"How would you feel if you got pancaked by a station wagon, Doc? Because that's about how I feel."

Dr. Walton laughed encouragingly.

"Given the circumstances, that makes sense." Dr. Walton held up the bottle of eye drops. "How about we take care of those dry eyes, big guy?"

Jeff widened his eyes for Dr. Walton as the latter squeezed a drop of moisturizing fluid onto each eyeball. Jeff's eyelids squeezed together as best they could.

"Isn't it Elayna's job to give me the eye drops?"

"Well, yes," said the doctor. "But I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd check up on you myself."

Dr. Walton pulled a chair over to the head of the bed and took a seat.

"Jeff, what can you recall from the other night? Do you remember anything from before the accident?"

Jeff sighed.

"No. Nothing. I was. . . I was crossing the road. I remember that. I don't remember why, though. Then, I was on the ground. The driver was calling for help. And, I saw the angel."

Dr. Walton nodded his head.

"Elayna told me about that. This angel, what did he look like?"

"It's pretty fuzzy," admitted Jeff. "He was very tall, at least seven feet. He had these huge billowing wings, and glowing eyes that pierced the darkness."

Jeff paused and frowned at the doctor.

"It was a hallucination, wasn't it?"

"That's possible," answered the doctor. "You did hit your head pretty hard. But I've never been one to rule out the metaphysical."

Dr. Walton gestured to Jeff's bandages.

"After all, you survived a head-on collision at forty miles-per-hour. If that isn't divine intervention, I'll turn in my doctorate."

"Maybe," said Jeff absently. His eyes stung, and he moved his eyes around beneath what remained of his eyelids to wet them. "Hey, Doc?"

"Yes, Jeff?"

"There's something I need you to do for me," Jeff told him, "and I won't take no for an answer.

Dr. Walton cocked his head to the side.

"What would that be?"

"I want you to tell me what's wrong with my face."

Dr. Walton frowned.

"What makes you think something's wrong with your face?"

"Drop the act," said Jeff. "I know something isn't right. Elayna wouldn't give me a mirror earlier. Plus, I've been feeling it all morning. It feels wrong. It feels like leather, not skin."

Jeff pointed to his eyes.

"And judging by the lack of any scabbing, I'm assuming that this isn't road rash across my eyes."

Dr. Dalton folded his hands.

"Jeff," he replied frankly, "Legally, I can't tell you no. However, I can warn you. Your current state is fragile. If you get too worked up, you might hurt yourself."

Jeff frowned. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

"That bad, huh?"

"No, Jeff, that's not. . ." Dr. Walton's voice trailed off. He bit his lip.

"Look, Doc," began Jeff. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "I'm scared. I woke up in a strange place. I don't even know who I am. And I certainly don't remember what I look like."

Jeff sniffed. A tear ran down his cheek. He dabbed at it. His fingers ran down along the ridge of the scar there, until they reached his lips. Jeff returned his gaze to the eyes of Dr. Walton.

"I want to know what this ridge I feel beneath my finger is. I want to see why my eyes don't close. I want something. . . a face to put with my own name. Can you understand that?"

Dr. Walton was speechless. Before him on the hospital bed lay his patient, a boy with nothing. He was so vulnerable, and there was only one thing in the world he wanted. But, Dr. Walton was afraid to give it to him.

Who was he to stand in Jeff's way, though? It was his duty to abide by his patients' wishes. With a reluctant sigh, he relinquished his humanity.

"Alright, Jeff," said Dr. Walton. "If that is what you want."

Dr. Walton stepped into the bathroom for a moment. When he returned, he held a plastic hand-mirror. Jeff watched him approach. It was a slow, dutiful march, like an executioner walking to the scaffold. Jeff didn't know whether to feel nervous or excited. He determined that his beating heart was a result of both.

"Here you go," whispered the doctor as he handed Jeff the mirror.

Jeff accepted the mirror from Dr. Walton and held it up before his face.

Jeff gasped at what he saw looking back at him. He had no eyebrows. His eyelids were a tattered, blackened mess that made his eyes appear wide and hungry. The rest of the flesh was white as milk, and as rough as crocodile leather. His cheeks were marred by three-inch gashes that curled up across his face like the tendrils of an evil kraken hiding beneath the surface. The wretched, ruined face seemed to grin malevolently at him from the glass.

"Oh, God," whispered Jeff. ". . . oh God."

His fingertips traveled the length of a scar, then up the bridge of his nose to his forehead. His fingers splayed across his features, and he lowered the mirror.

"Dear God. . ."

Dr. Walton rested his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

"I'll give you a moment alone."

Jeff barely heard his words. They sounded distant, like he had spoken underwater. This had been what Jeff was afraid he would see. The face he had seen in the mirror was the same face that had stared up at through the inner tube, the one from the sea of darkness. The demonic face from his dream had been his own.

Chapter 8: The Waiting Room

"Walter Jefferson, here to visit Jeff. Room 114."

Walter stood with his hands at his sides. The nurse looked up Jeff in the computer.

"Give me just one moment please," said the nurse as she stood and went into the back.

Walter waited awkwardly, drumming his fingers against the countertop. Soon, the nurse was back.

"He's being cleaned up right now," she told him, "but he should be ready in a few minutes. Just have a seat, and someone will come and take you in."

"Thank you," said Walter.

Walter turned away and walked back to the waiting area. He plopped down in a chair next to Margaret and picked up a magazine, which he perused absently.

What will he be like? Will he hate me? Will he blame me for what happened to him?

Walter didn't know what to expect. All he could do was wait and hope for the best.

Just then, a horrible thought occurred to him.

"Maggie?"

"Yes, Walter?" asked Margaret.

"What's going to happen to Jeff?"

Margaret looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What if he has a family? He doesn't remember anything. He won't be able to contact anyone. He'll be all alone."

"Don't worry," urged Margaret, putting a hand on his shoulder. "His family is probably looking for him right now. They'll come for him."

Walter didn't look satisfied.

"But what if he has no family? What if he was already alone? He's at least sixteen or seventeen. What if they just ship him to a foster home until he's eighteen?"

"Walter," whispered Margaret soothingly, "everything is going to be okay."

Walter took a breath.

"I hope you're right."

Just then, a nurse walked over and stood in front of them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson?" she asked.

"That's us," said Walter, standing to his feet.

"Jeff is ready to see you."

Chapter 9: A Chance Meeting

Mark headed into the break room for lunch. He took his sandwich and root beer from the refrigerator and turned to go. As he did so, he nearly collided with a nurse who was coming behind him.

"Sorry!" squeaked Mark, bending over to pick up the paper bag he had knocked out of her hands.

As he handed her the bag, their eyes met. Hers were a gorgeous, vibrant shade of blue. Her locks of bright red hair were just as distracting.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the bag from him.

Mark couldn't tear his eyes off the girl. She cocked her head to the side and grinned.

"Are you in there?" she asked.

"Yes," said Mark, snapping back to reality and clearing his throat. "Sorry. You have. . . very pretty eyes."

The nurse laughed.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Mark replied. "Hey, wait a moment. Aren't you Elayna Johnson? Jeff's nurse?"

"Yes, I am," she answered. "How did you know?"

Mark's face darkened considerably

"Jeff's the talk of the hospital," answered Mark distastefully. "The amnesiac with the mysterious scars, and all that."

Elayna looked shocked.

"They aren't making fun of him, are they?"

"Not that I know," said Mark. "But I'm no lover of gossip either way. He's just a kid."

Elayna fixed Mark with a curious look.

"You talk as if you know him," she noted.

"I don't, exactly," replied Mark, scratching at his short brown hair. "I was with the team that brought him in, though."

He shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess I feel responsible for him, or something. You should have seen him. Helpless, afraid. You'd probably feel the same way."

Elayna nodded her head.

"I know what you mean. I've been taking care of him all week."

"Oh, yeah?" asked Mark. "How's he doing?"

Elayna frowned.

"Some days are good. Others, not so good. He's very quiet. I don't know if he's thinking, or if he just doesn't have anything to say."

Mark echoed her sad look.

"What does he do all day?"

"He mostly just stares at the ceiling," she said. "Sometimes he'll touch his face. Like he's trying to remember."

She looked at Mark.

"I think he's lonely."

Mark furrowed his brow.

"I might visit him," he said. "I'd like to see if I can't cheer him up."

Elayna smiled from ear to ear.

"I bet he would like that."

Chapter 10: Face to Face

He couldn't get it out of his mind. The image of his face haunted him like a vengeful phantom. His pale and leathery skin, bloodred lips, lidless eyes, and vicious smile stared back at him everywhere he looked.

He was a monster.

No, you're no monster. You're beautiful. Now turn that frown upside-down, dummy!

"Huh?" asked Jeff out loud. He looked around the room for the speaker. No one was there.

Did I imagine that? wondered Jeff. I gotta get out of this hospital bed.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. A nurse poked her inside the room.

"Jeff," she said sweetly, "you have visitors."

Jeff creased his forehead.

"Who?"

The nurse swung the door open and walked inside. Behind her, a man and a woman entered hand-in-hand. The man was in his late thirties with short hair and a clean-shaven face. The woman had long, flowing brown hair and a pleasant, but nervous, smile.

"Jeff," said the nurse, "this is Walter and Margaret Jefferson."

"It's you," said Jeff. "You're the one who hit me."

Walter froze. Margaret squeezed his hand encouragingly. He took a few steps forward. Jeff watched his steady approach unflinchingly.

"Come closer," said Jeff.

Walter knelt by Jeff's bedside, placing his hands on the edge.

"Son," he began, voice cracking, "I. . . I'm sorry. I didn't. . ."

Walter wiped his eyes.

". . . I didn't mean for this to happen. If I could go back, I-"

"Stop."

Walter cut off immediately. He didn't move a muscle. Jeff had spoken so suddenly, Walter's thoughts were scrambled.

Jeff took a deep breath, and grabbed Walter by the wrist.

"Mr. Jefferson," he began, "look at me. What do you see?"

Walter looked at Jeff, unsure of what to say.

"I see a teenage boy," he offered in reply.

Jeff nodded his head.

"And what more than that?"

Walter looked over his shoulder at Margaret. She had one hand over her mouth. Tears were welling up inside her eyes. He looked back to Jeff.

"I don't understand."

Jeff reached up with his free hand and ran a finger along his cheek.

"Yes, you do."

". . . scars," Walter managed.

"Bingo," said Jeff. "Ugly ones. And who knows how I got them? It must have been horrible."

Jeff pulled Walter a little closer.

"Could you live with yourself if you looked the way I do?"

Walter's heart was beating faster. Was Jeff angry with him? Where was he going with this?

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it's entirely possible I wanted you to hit me," answered Jeff. "What if I stepped in front of you on purpose?"

Walter was speechless.

"It was no one's fault, Mr. Jefferson," continued Jeff.

He let go of Walter's wrist and took him by the hand.

"It just happened. No amount of blubbering on either of our parts is going to change that."

Tears ran down Walters face as Jeff spoke. Jeff hadn't just forgiven him. Jeff had told him that he had dine nothing wrong. Walter couldn't find words to describe how grateful he was. All that he could was squeeze Jeff's hand and cry his tears of joy.

Margaret approached the opposite side of Jeff's bed.

"Jeff, when they release you, how would you like to come and stay with Walter and me for a little while?"

Jeff's blinkless eyes widened.

"You. . . you want me to stay with you? Like. . . at your house?"

"Of course!" replied Walter joyfully. He looked up at his wife, and their eyes met. She winked at him. He smiled back.

"But. . . why?" asked Jeff. "I'm. . . nit exactly good company."

"Nonsense!" argued Margaret. "You're a sweet boy, and we would love to have you around. Besides, it's the least we can do until your real family comes for you."

"My real family. . ." repeated Jeff.

He had thought about them a lot over the past week. He didn't know who they were, or if they even existed. But he had wondered who they might be. He wondered if they were looking for him right now.

"What do you say?" asked Walter.

"I. . . I would love to," said Jeff.

Margaret leaned over and kissed Jeff on his gauze-wrapped forehead.

"We'll come to visit you every day until then," she said.

Jeff yawned, a huge yawn that nearly sit his head in two.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm. . . very tired all of a sudden. . ."

The nurse stepped forward.

"I think we should let him rest."

"Of course," said Walter, letting go of Jeff's hand. "Go to sleep, Jeff. We'll be back tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," mumbled Jeff as he began to drift off.

Margaret and Walter turned to follow the nurse out into the hall.

"Mrs. Jefferson?"

Margaret turned to look back into the room.

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Didn't the nurse say your name was Margaret?"

"Yes," she said. "Margaret Katherine Jefferson. Why do you ask?"

A headache nagged behind Jeff's eye, and he put his hand to his temple reflexively.

"I. . . I think I knew someone named Margaret. Someone close to me."

Chapter 11: Interesting Developments

"Erika Langford, twenty-two years old. Cut up in the middle of the night."

Agent Vince Brewer stood over the body of the victim, hands tucked away in the pockets of his suit coat. He regarded the crime scene with a somber expression. He had seen hundreds like it before, but it never got any easier. Still, not everyone had what it took to do his job.

He gestured to the sheets, which had been ripped from the bed, and an overturned lamp.

"There was a struggle," he noted. "She was awake when it happened."

"We guessed that, too," replied the officer in charge of the crime scene. "The killer came in, probably startled her awake, struggled with her, then shoved a knife in her gut. Slashed her face a little bit for good measure, too."

"It sounds to me like you guys have this under control," replied Agent Brewer with some annoyance. "Why contact the Bureau?"

"There's the kicker," replied the officer. "Right this way."

The officer led Agent Brewer across the room, careful to avoid disturbing the crime scene. Agent Brewer was just as careful. The officer stopped, gesturing to the window.

"This is how our killer got in."

The window was open, and the curtains were drawn. Bloody handprints lined the fabric. A few were plastered across the windowsill, revealing that the window had served as an exit as well as an entrance.

Agent Brewer's eyes were wide with surprise. He clenched his jaw and turned and stormed out of the room, taking long and deliberate strides. The officer hurried to keep up with him.

"There's more!" he called.

Agent Brewer ignored him and continued. He marched out through the front door, down the porch steps, and around the house. He didn't stop until he could see the window from the outside. The moment it came into view, something else did. It was difficult to see in the dying sunlight, but it was there.

Agent Brewer had taken down many a serial killer in his career with the FBI. One thing he had learned was that, to some of them, it was a game. They loved to play the game, and they loved to be recognized for playing. They lived for the coverage their dark craft received, for the names the media gave them. So, to facilitate this, some killers left behind a calling card. Agent Brewer had seen this particular calling card many times over the past three years.

The officer ran up alongside Agent Brewer and stopped to catch his breath. 

"Now you know why we got ahold of the Bureau."

Agent Brewer clenched his fists as he approached the side of the house. The walls were painted white. There was no missing the message scrawled beneath the window. It was written in bright red letters. The medium had dripped, leaving long run lines beneath each letter.

"What is that written in?" asked Agent Brewer, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

"What do you think?" retorted the officer.

The message was simple. There were three words and nine letters in all, and each letter was capitalized. 

GO TO SLEEP.

Agent Brewer closed his eyes. He felt like someone had punched him right between the eyes. 

"That's it, ain't it?" asked the officer. "That's the Grin's handiwork, right?"

Agent Brewer opened his mouth to respond when something moved out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look. It had been a momentary flicker of movement.

"Did you see that?" asked Agent Brewer.

"See what?" asked the officer. "All I see is some bloody graffiti and an open window."

Agent Brewer looked down at his feet. He noticed that his shadow had lengthened considerably as the sunk sank. His hat had almost reached the top of the house.

Agent Brewer wasn't wearing a hat.

"I need a moment alone," said Agent Brewer, turning to face the officer."

The officer furrowed his brow, but nodded. He didn't feel like arguing with a Fed today.

"Suit yourself, agent," muttered the officer as he turned to go. "See you back inside when you're ready."

"Thank you," said Agent Brewer, who returned his attention to his shadow once the officer was out of sight.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

His shadow seemed to lean forward from the wall. It shrank, contorted, and lost all shape, like a two-dimensional cloud of smoke on the wall. Soon, it was no taller than the agent, and it began to take human form once more: flowing trench coat, wide-brimmed fedora, and a walking cane held in the right hand. Two miniscule spheres of red light gazed out at Agent Brewer from where the figure's eyes should have been. It was a living shadow, standing there against the wall before him.

The shadow man replied with a deep, gravelly voice that seemed to echo from every surface, even the ones in Agent Brewer's mind.

"I came to check up on you," replied the shadow. "You are busy?"

"Am now," answered Brewer, waving his hand at the bloody message.

The shadow studied the message for a moment.

"Hmmm," it mused thoughtfully. "The Grin. A dangerous killer. Certainly not someone you want running around free."

"Don't give me that," scoffed Agent Brewer. "You probably know who he is already. You've just been holding out on me for three years."

"Perhaps, and perhaps not," whispered the shadow. "I keep many secrets."

"So why are you here?" asked Agent Brewer, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I come bearing a gift."

The shadow stepped forward, away from the wall, now taking up three dimensions. The shadow man held something out towards Brewer. It was something sealed in plastic. Brewer stepped forward to get a better look.

It was a blood-spattered kitchen knife.

"The murder weapon," explained the shadow, "used to kill Erika Langford."

Agent Brewer reached out, accepting the sealed knife from the shadow man. He held it up to the dying light, studying the blade. It was covered in scraped marks, beaten, battered, and bloodied.

"Where the hell did you find this?" he asked.

"One gift at a time," replied the shadow, holding up an ebony finger and wagging it back and forth. "It should suffice to say that something has happened on my side. There's been an interesting development. I'm curious to see how it will play out."

The shadow man turned his back to Agent Brewer. He began to melt back into the agent's shadow, silently and swiftly.

"What about the Grin?" called Agent Brewer.

The figure was gone, but one final reply came whispering from within the shadows.

"Look for him."

Chapter 12: Merry Christmas, Happy New Life

Notes:

Salutations, my lovely readers! This chapter is long overdue, but now that I have finished my education I think can get on a regular schedule.

You can expect updates on Jeff the Killer: Recall every Friday evening, the good Lord willing. As for my other works, I will be updating them as time allows. I have many original projects in the works, as well as a potentially big opportunity on the way.

Eyes up. The Mysterious Realm is unforgiving!

Margaret.

He tossed and turned in the bed, eyes darting back and forth beneath his mangled eyelids. His pale, slender fingers grasped at sweat-soaked sheets. His feet kicked at some unseen foe, something watching him from the darkness.

Jeff's dreams were getting worse.

Margaret.

In a realm beyond this one, Jeff sat on a cold floor, knees drawn against his chest. His lips trembled as he whispered the word over and over.

Margaret. Who was she?

He ran his fingers through his wild hair. They came back wet with sweat. Jeff clenched his fists, searching desperately for memories that weren't there. 

Who was Margaret?

"Who cares?"

Jeff jumped to his feet. The new voice was familiar, unpleasant, and it startled him.

"H-hello?"

"Hello."

Jeff spun around, throwing up his hands to protect himself. The voice had come from behind.

"Wh-who's there?" Jeff demanded.

From the darkness, a shape began to manifest. It was horrible, a beastly silhouette. Its crimson eyes glared hungrily at Jeff from the shadows.

"We are. No one else."

Jeff trembled. The creature's eyes demanded his attention; he couldn't look away, though he tried.

"Who are you?" Jeff croaked.

The silhouette seemed to slither through the darkness, eyes never blinking, never straying. It inched forward, little by little, until those horrible eyes were just in front of Jeff's.

"How could you forget me?" the shape asked. There was almost genuine hurt in its voice, as though it was sad that Jeff didn't recognize it.

Suddenly, Jeff found himself seized in an icy, crushing grasp. Frigid tendrils of shadow wrapped around his body, pinning his arms helplessly to his sides. He struggled, but it was moot. Wicked glee glinted in the crimson eyes of the beast as the shadows of its face began to swirl and pull aside. Within, a new face peered back. Jeff gasped.

"Beautiful, aren't I?" it asked.

Jeff squeezed his eyes shut. His mangled eyelids did nothing to conceal the horror that now held him in its clutches. He screamed, a scream that went beyond the dream.

Then, he was sitting upright in bed, chilled sweat dribbling down his sides and neck. His hands trembled at his sides. He raised them before his face, flexing his fingers to make the shaking stop.

He had been having the same dream for a while now. His mind went back to Christmas Day. The Jeffersons had been there. Mark and Elayna had been there, too. Even Dr. Walton had stopped by. All of them had gotten him gifts.

"Oh, geez. . ." Jeff had muttered, sinking lower onto the hospital bed. "I wish you hadn't."

"Nonsense," Margaret had said with a wave of her hand. "Now get to opening."

Walter and Margaret had gotten Jeff a long, insulated leather jacket that went down well past the knees.

"To keep you warm when you finally go outside," said Margaret.

"And look here," said Walter, pointing to the chest. "It comes with a reflector. Now you can cross the street at night."

Jeff was silent for a moment. 

"I love it," he said at last, running his hands over the leather. He enjoyed the way it felt. "Thank you both."

"My turn," said Elayna, presenting Jeff with a box wrapped in snowmen and reindeer. Inside was a portable CD-player, complete with headphones and a few CDs ready to go.

"I know how much you like music," she told him. "Now you can listen as often as you want."

Jeff looked through the CDs. They were all groups Elayna had introduced him to, that he loved to listen to: Linkin Park, Skillet, and more.

"Thank you so much," said Jeff, hugging Elayna around the neck.

"Anything for my little work brother," she replied with a giggle, hugging him back.

"You've still got one more," said Mark. He plopped a very small box down on the bed in Jeff's lap. The box was about the size of a TV remote. It was wrapped in simple red paper, with a little green bow holding it shut.

"What is it?" asked Jeff, turning it over in his hands.

"Only one way to find out," replied Mark, smirking and crossing his arms.

Carefully, Jeff slipped a finger under the edges of the tape, pulling it away little by little.

"Oh come on, we're not saving the paper," protested Mark. "Open it up!"

Jeff caved and ripped the paper away with a flick of his wrist. His mouth fell open. His voicebox cracked in two. Words tried to form on the tip of his tongue, but something powerful kept them at bay.

The present was a little box, bound in a faux leather material and hinged in the back. With trembling fingers, Jeff opened the box. Inside, his expectations were fulfilled tenfold. There rested a pair of sunglasses, with firm black plastic temples and thick dark lenses.

"I. . . I. . ."

"Look, I'm not saying you need them," stammered Mark, "just that, you know, with the sun, and with your eyes, and with the drops-"

Jeff's arms were around Mark before he could stammer out another syllable, his face buried deep in his friend's shirt.

". . . thank you," was all Jeff could croak through the raging torrent of feelings that swept over him. Mark put an arm around Jeff's shoulder in turn.

"You're welcome, little buddy."

Jeff pulled away from his friend's embrace, turning his eyes upon the room. Within the four light blue walls of the hospital room were the only five people in the world Jeff knew. They cared for him, and he for them. Warmth. Peace. Gratitude. Companionship Belonging. They all seemed to surge within him simultaneously.

No!

Jeff jolted, arcing his back and grabbing at his temple. 

"Wh-what?" he mumbled aloud.

"You okay, buddy?" asked Mark, reaching out. Jeff's vision swirled. He saw Mark's face, Mark's stupid face, giving him that coddling look. Why, he ought to reach out and grab Mark by his skinny little neck. . .

A wave of shame and horror shot through Jeff like an electrified bullet. Those thoughts were evil, twisted and monstrous. They couldn't have been his. At least, he didn't want them to be his. 

"I. . ." Jeff struggled. He could feel his eyes shaking in his sockets. Darkness was coming.

"Easy there," said Dr. Walton, hurrying over. "He's just exhausted. Give him some space, Mark."

Jeff had felt cold hands as they took him by the wrist, and colder hands as they took him by the mind.

That had been Christmas. For the first time he could remember, Jeff had known joy. Something had taken that joy from him.

Jeff seized the pocket mirror from his nightstand, staring intently into the crystal glass. His twisted reflection looked back at him. He bit his lip timidly. He hoped, he prayed, that a dream was all it had been.

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #jtk #fanfiction #horror #story

[bitacrytic]

You never told us what you chose. Korn vs Kun pol and the KP poll. Bita spill the tea

Oh, Anon. I couldn't pick with the Korn/Kun Poll.

Shout out to the 56 brave souls who could make a decision.

It's the only poll of mine that I didn't choose. Someone mentioned that Korn may have been molesting her too, all through the years... which officially makes him the worst person to ever exist. So, maybe I should have chosen him. Let's remember that we still don't know what Kun was going to say about Nampheung when Korn shot him to shut him up.

I'll choose now. Korn. Korn is the worst. Korn!

As for the KP poll...

I picked 0.

Look, if Kinnporsche continues, I will be on the front lines defending this show because it's a motherfucking good show. Mileapo, I blame them, mostly. If their chemistry wasn't off the charts, maybe I wouldn't care as much. But they're awesome, so there they are, making me cheer for a storyline that is QUESTIONABLE beyond understanding.

I love their chemistry and the frustrating storyline is what keeps me going, honestly. I was flinging shit at my laptop for fourteen weeks because of them. They did great. As fictional characters with flaws (and wickedness) they are awesome.

But boy, is that relationship a bag of dicks???? I keep going back to ep6. When kinn asked Porsche to leave him, he could have done one thing... one thing and I might have forgiven everything else.

That moment when he thought he would lose Porsche, was the moment when he could have come clean about taking Porsche's home and making Porsche lose money so that Porsche had no choice but to work for him.

But he didn't. He kept quiet. Because he's a manipulative asshole that believed that one day, Porsche might come back. As far as I'm concerned, he didn't tell Porsche because he knew that Porsche really would leave him. If he wanted Porsche to go, he could have told him and left it up to Porsche. But he didnt. Because, just like his daddy, Kinn is a manipulative piece of shit.

At the end, after all is said and done, Porshce tells Kinn that he belongs to him. But Kinn doesn't reciprocate. Because even after 14 eps, Kinn still believes that his ultimate goal is to obtain Porsche like the object that he believes Porsche to be.

Let's also not forget that Porsche's mom is being held hostage so we're not even sure if Porsche meant what he said or if he was just playing along like a good little soldier. It wouldn't be the first time he pretended to do what kinn wanted, just to survive.

That relationship may have been murky from the start, but by the end, Kinn had all the power and Porsche was just trying to stay alive.

In my humble opinion.

#kinnporsche