#sending myself into anxious spirals if anyone mentioned death around me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sidespromptblog · 4 years

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Snowden: Part 2

One, Three

Warnings: Mentions of freezing to death, Virgil freaking out, and Remus freaking out.

Summary: Virgil was supposed to be relaxing. This vacation wasn't becoming very relaxing...

Word Count: 2700

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Virgil was supposed to be relaxing.

Sitting on the back porch with Deceit’s empty cup in his hands as he stared out to the direction of the woods, all while pondering his past mistakes and anxiously muddling over what he could have done differently. Well… it wasn’t exactly what he would call relaxing. His own words twisted around in his head, reminding him that this situation was very much his fault, and he had only made it that much worse by not immediately going after Deceit and trying to make it better. He could have… but a part of him had thought that the other side would come right on back, and that… maybe he just needed a little time to blow off some steam or think to himself.

But after so long of waiting and waiting and waiting…

The churning in his stomach only got worse and worse as the seconds ticked on by.

What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if?

The crunching of a combination of snow and leaves snagged and jerked Virgil’s mind out of the spiral it had been walking itself or rather free falling down into. Snapping his head, up Virgil couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as he went to lock eyes with Deceit. Relief sweeping through him at the very thought of the dishonest side having come back alright and unharmed, just for Virgil’s eyes widened at the sight of the other side that he had hardly ever seen. Even when he had been living with Deceit and Remus, he had hardly ever seen the side that was stalking right towards him from the entrance of the woodland area that Deceit had disappeared into.

The other side’s name was no more than a whisper, or at least what little that left him was no more than a whisper.

“Char-”

Before Virgil even saw it coming, Charon’s fist sank heavily into his stomach, leaving the anxious side wheezing and gasping as he fell to his knees. Pain radiated through his middle as he curled up into himself only able to watch as Deceit’s cup rolled helplessly away from him and down the steps of the back porch. Just to peacefully sink into an inch of freshly fallen snow, well out of his reach especially as Charon loomed ominously over him like a nightmare in the shadows.

“Now,” Charon darkly hissed rage brimming in the eyes hidden behind his cracked glasses, as he seized the anxious side up by the back of Virgil’s hoodie leaving him to hang there like a kitten being held up his scruff. “I don’t know what it is that you said, that has made Deceit fully willing to sit out in the middle of a snowstorm knowing that it could kill him. But quite frankly…” The orange side seized Virgil’s face, turning it so that they could meet eye to eye. “I don’t fucking give a damn. I don’t think that he’ll go through with it, but you better watch what you say around him you understand me? Because if we get a repeat of this…” Charon’s eyes darted over to the other side’s that were all crowded around a board game of some kind, making his threat VERY clear to someone like Virgil. “Then I already know where your heart is, spider…”

With that having been said, Charon dropped Virgil like a limp bag of potatoes, and without even having to look up Virgil already knew that Charon had gone back to the mindspace to continue his sleep-fest. He wouldn’t risk getting seen by the others, let alone Thomas had it not been for something important...

A snowstorm… Deceit…

Deceit!

Previous pain forgotten, Virgil scrambled up to his feet. He didn’t even bother to offer the others an explanation to where he was going or even to when he’d be back. Deceit had only left… not that long ago, right? He hadn’t been gone that long, and he hadn’t turned or walked off of the path from what he could recall. So it would take him no time at all to get to Deceit before the storm hit…

Right?

“Deceit?” Virgil cupped his hands around his mouth as he called out for the other side, his feet were starting to ache and by now the worry had steadily drained out of his voice only to be replaced by annoyance. “Come on Deceit! This is getting old, just come on out and we can head back inside! Deceit?” He tried again, with only the crunching of his own footsteps in snow answering him back as he called out again and again. By now, he could see his breath misting out in front of his very nose, the temperature was dropping more and more the longer he spent out here.

It was getting too cold for even him, someone who wore a jacket all year around, he could only imagine how cold it would be for Deceit… if he was still ali-

“Dee!” He called out again, terror coloring his voice as he picked up the pace at his own spiraling thoughts. “Dee come on, please!” He begged as more and more trees passed him by in a blur of reds, yellows, and browns, as he started running down the well-worn path of the trail. His breathing was coming out in quite terrified puffs, obscuring his sight for little moments as his feet darted under him propelling him forward. “Please, this isn’t funny Dee! It’s getting dark, and you know how you get with the cold! D-”

His feet skidded on a sheet of ice, and everything turned cold.

There was a feeling of something crushing his lungs, he couldn’t get enough oxygen in them despite the fact that he was surrounded by nothing but open space and plenty of air to breathe. The sound of his own breathing was even disconnected from the rise and fall of his chest, as the sharp wheezing sounds made him internally cringe. He... He couldn’t move. All of his muscles painfully seized, his knees shuddering as his body forced him to remain standing, locked in that one position unable to do a single thing.

There laying on the ground, curled up like a dead squirrel at the base of a tree stump was… Deceit.

His lips were blue. His. Lips. Were. Blue. His lips were fucking blue.

He looked almost frozen.

You should have done better. The voice in his head that sounded all too much like Charon chided vindictively, and with the sharpness of a knife. You could have stopped him before he walked off into that forest. You could have been nicer to him. You could have told him that you wanted him around. Look at him! LOOK AT HIM! He’s dead because of you! Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. YOUR. FAULT!

Like a broken and janky marionette Virgil’s limps finally moved, sending him scattering towards Deceit’s lifeless blue-lipped body that felt absolutely freezing to the touch.

“Dee?” The nickname of the dishonest side leaves Virgil in a rush of hot air as he cradles the other, “Dee please.” He openly begs as he clutches the other, desperate to feel any kind of warmth in the other’s skin or to feel… anything at this point coming from the other. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Please… Please don’t go.” The hot tears escape his eyes in a scalding waterfall down his cheeks, completely smearing and ruining the presentation of his eyeshadow, but at this point, he could really less than care about that. “I… I was wrong. I was so wrong. Please..please.. Please!” The words wheeze themselves past his lips at this point, barely more than a whisper but not quite as silent as he initially thought they were. “Please…”

Deceit’s hand falls limply from his chest, like a puppet whose strings had just been ruthlessly cut by the puppeteer.

And it’s with that one singular action that Virgil clutches Deceit’s body even tighter, practically seizing the dishonest side and placing him right on his lap as he sobs desperately into the other’s hair. It hurts… god does it hurt. It hurts so much more than he could have imagined that it would, its the kind of pain that makes every movement ten times worse and the kind of pain that strikes him through the middle. It’s… impossible to even imagine standing up and taking Deceit back to the others, just as it’s impossible to imagine the looks on Remus’ and Charon’s face when they see Deceit... when they see his body.

Everything felt frozen, like time itself could have stopped and he wouldn’t have known the difference.

He could still remember watching Deceit out of the window this morning, as the other side sipped at his warm drink just watching the new scenery after Thomas had taken all of his luggage and groceries in. Deceit who hadn’t done anything, who had just been minding his own business and not hurting anyone. He… he’d never get to see it again, just as none of the others would get to see it again either.

But he had to… that was the kicker, wasn’t it?

Looking down at Deceit’s face and feeling his heart crack open even more… he knew. “I need to take you back,” The anxious side whispered, his trembling shaking fingers so very carefully brushing aside a lock of Deceit’s hair, as if touching him any harder would cause the dishonest side to shatter to pieces in his hands. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just left you here, and… you don’t deserve that. You.. you…” Emotions clogged Virgil’s throat, and yet… he went on. “You deserve so much more, and you always did… I..” Teardrops plopped against Deceit’s near-white as snow skin, “I will always apologize for that.”

He would.

Brushing away the tears that had dripped onto Deceit’s face, Virgil carefully curled his arms under the other side’s chest and legs before easily lifting him. It took a conscious effort to not let another choked sob out as Deceit’s head lifelessly thumped against the anxious side’s chest, where it remained as he started his long and arduous walk back to the cabin as his heart weighed heavily with the guilt that he was sure to carry with him through the rest of both his and Thomas’ life.

What would happen now?

Would there be a new Deceit? If there was, Virgil didn’t know how he would be able to react around him. Would Thomas be unable to lie now? Would Deceit’s body just fade away? That thought alone filled him with an instant pain that clutched ruthlessly at his heart, despite the fact that he surely deserved such an agony for how he had treated Deceit. He didn’t want Deceit to fade away. To be gone as if he had never existed in the first place. To.. to… just be gone… He couldn’t handle the thought of that happening, he didn’t WANT to be able to handle it, let alone for it to even happen.

Before he even knew it… Virgil had walked back to the cabin.

What had once been a long trek that had left his legs and feet aching and sore… had now been way too short as he stared at all of the others through the backdoor window. They were all laughing, having a grand old time, while being completely unaware of the bombshell that he was about to drop on them. They were ignorant of how things were going to change now, they… they had no idea on how this was going to hurt. Honestly… Virgil didn’t even know if it was going to hurt them at all, sure it would hurt Remus and Charon. But Patton and the others…

Would they even care? Would they even mourn him?

Virgil would, he’d mourn enough for all of them. That was for damn sure.

It took less than a second. It took less than a second for Remus to look up from whatever game he was playing against Roman, it took less than a second for Remus gaze to meet his through the frosting window, and it took less than a second for the creative side’s face to rapidly shifting from glee, to concern, to understanding, and then finally and worst of all… to horror.

Everything that happened next, felt like it was happening disconnected from Virgil’s own reality. Like he was nothing more than a paper boat on a string, floating haplessly in the messy currents of an ocean that would soon overwhelm him.

“DECEIT!” None of them… none of them had ever heard Remus scream like he had then, and none of them had ever seen him run like he did. Throwing open the door, just for Roman’s arms to seize him around the middle, stopping his twin from practically throwing himself at Virgil and doing who knows what. “No!” Remus caterwauled, his makeup a steady stream down his face, matching Virgil’s own state. “Let me go! Let me go! LET ME GO!” He fought like a wild animal against Roman’s impressive grip, “No! Nononononono! DECEIT! DEE! NO!”

Everyone’s ears rang with Remus’ heartbreaking screams as Roman physically pulled Remus back so that Virgil could actually walk into the cabin and not get mauled to death by Remus’ bared teeth.

Static rang in Virgil’s ears as he shuffled past them all, his eyes mindlessly staring ahead as he gingerly laid Deceit on the couch.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” He scarcely whispered, as he tucked his jacket around Deceit. Everything felt as if it were suspended on a razor-thin wire, but even that didn’t stop the tears that ran down his cold shocked face as he stared back at Patton and the others. “I didn’t know what else to do other than to bring him home…”

In that instant, Patton’s expression broke and within a few seconds he had Virgil gathered in his arms. “Oh, Virg…” The moral side whispered, allowing the other side to bury his face into his shoulder. “Oh kiddo…” There weren’t any words that Patton could even say to make the situation better, he couldn’t lie and say that things would be okay, because… well… They wouldn’t be, Deceit was dead, one of their own was dead and Virgil had been the one to find him. They all had a hand to play in this, no matter how much they would have liked to pretend that they didn’t.

Because they very well did.

“Get away from him!” Remus snarled viciously, fighting even more ruthlessly to get out of Roman’s iron grip as soon as Logan had laid his hands on Deceit. He snapped and snarled like a savage beast, his feet digging into the ground in order to give him just the slightest inch forward, “He’s not just some science experiment for you to play with once he’s dead!”

“He’s not,” Logan bluntly and quite startlingly state, his own eyes widening.

“What?”

“He’s not dead…” The logical side whispered, pressing his fingers against the underside of Deceit’s jaw again just to be certain, and he was… “There.. There’s a pulse!” He blurted out before he could stop himself, it was small but it was most certainly there that was for certain. “In his panicked state, Virgil must have forgotten to check and must’ve assumed Deceit’s fate once his breathing had gotten too low. It’s likely… that Virgil’s own body heat was the only reason that Deceit even had a pulse to speak of. If he had gotten there a moment too late…” Logan snapped his mouth shut at the looks that were reflected back at him, “I uh…” He floundered for a moment, “Get me blankets! We need to gradually raise his internal temperature! Turn the heat up, Remus add some more fuel to the fireplace!”

With something to do, they all got to work.

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ionizedyeast · 4 years

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Title: 0180304 - Workplace Relationship Part 1/2 “Statement of Nelson Briar, Head of Folklore and Legend Research of the Magnus Institute, and his relationship and events surrounding Michael Shelley prior to becoming the Distortion. Statement given --.”

“That’s enough, let’s get right to it, Jon. You know, I’m the reason Elias had to start being more lax about employee relationships within the Institute. It’s not like we had been keeping anything secret, though. Gertrude knew before anyone else and then Diane did. And as far as I know, we were close to being the primary reason for gossip. But you’re not here to listen to me talk about the watercooler chatter of the Magnus Institute. You want to know what happened with me and Michael before well. . . Before I lost him.

I came here from the States back in late 2006. I had just started a Master’s program and had been working in the Usher Foundation back in DC since I was an undergrad. My area of study was well received by the Foundation and thankfully the Institute was more than willing to have me as a grad student in residence. I would have the chance to utilize any of their resources for my studies. Well, not any. It’s funny, knowing what I know now about the Institute, I’ve got to say there were loads of red flags about me coming out here. Probably starting with the fact the Lukas family funded my transfer and were going to cover my education. But I didn’t know anything about the Lukases back then. We have our own cryptic families back in Washington and as far as we were concerned, the Institute had a keen grasp on whatever the Lukases were doing, and weren’t our problem.

You had just started around that time too, hadn’t you, Jon? Wasn’t I your immediate superior for a while? I forget, I still can’t quite figure out the hierarchy here. You’re Head Archivist. I’m Head of Folklore -- are we equals in the Institute or are were on completely different levels. Ah, nevermind, we can talk about that outside of the recording. Reminiscing can wait.

I was, I think I was the third in residence student-employee the Institute had taken in. My predecessors had long since finished their studies and moved on elsewhere. South Africa and Russia, if I recall. I never had the chance to meet them, but as far as what Elias had told me in during my orientation, that’s what I had gathered about them. Wonder what they’re up to. . . But I digress. I was the third, but I was the first that was actively using the archive statements as fodder for my research. See, my focus area was in covering unifying themes throughout world cultures through the means of folklore. Obviously we’ve got the standards -- creation myths, the afterlife, explanations of nature, harvest -- the usual. But my studies were taking me elsewhere. To concepts that overlapped and had uncanny similarities, even when the cultures were worlds away. Some could be explained as just the natural need for humans to find comfort in what they didn’t understand. Death and the dark were most common. I could always figure out ways to connect these points, even if the cultures were wildly different. What was the geography like? The weather during this time period. How were their relations with nearby enemy and ally communities? I could usually pinpoint what needed to be explained and tied together. But some things I never could quite get a grasp on.

You see, Jon, in my decade plus at the Institute, I’ve probably dug too deep for just a simple scholar. I don’t study to know things for a sense of omniscience. I study to satisfy my own curiosity. While it’s always a thrill to share my academic findings with anyone who will listen, it’s always been primarily a personal gain. So I suppose that was one reason why Elias ended up granting me permission to study the archives. With limitations of course. Gertrude wasn’t the most thrilled about it. But I was not prying through with the intentions of exposing the secrets I uncovered to the world. No, it was for myself. And somewhere down the line, well, I wouldn’t call myself an expert by any means. But I did find myself very familiar with some common trends. Of course this wouldn’t all come in to play until some time after Michael, er, vanished.

Michael and I met sometime in early 2007. I had been here for a few months and I was bouncing between working as a shelver in the library and a research assistant -- we briefly were colleagues at this time, though back then we never really spoke to one another. What a shame. Imagine how close we’d be now if we had.

It wasn’t exactly what I would call a remarkable meeting. Gertrude had sent him to the library to have access to our private records for some sort of report but we didn’t have anyone to accompany him at the time so we just talked. I called him enormous or something to that extent -- I’m a small guy, Jon. I’m easily astounded at tall people -- he found my reaction funny. Somehow or another he mentioned the kind of research he was conducting for Gertrude and it was actually something I had quite a bit of experience in. I’d just had an article get published about the topic, so I talked his ear off for a bit before Diane came to take him to the back. Michael came back to the library at the end of the day and asked I’d like to get a coffee with him sometime. Didn’t realize it was a date until the third time we’d gone out for coffee and he started buying. It was casual dating, you know what I mean? The kind where you spend the first few dates just getting to know one another. Talking about what you had in common. What hobbies you had. Your friends. Family. Rather commonplace stuff just to test the waters. And while we had a few disagreements in interests, we kept coming back to the things we did have in common. You’ll have to forgive me, but when it comes to other people’s perceptions of me, I am very dense. Beyond the surface level of ‘this person likes me’, ‘this person tolerates me’ and ‘this person dislikes me’ I have an incredibly difficult time reading people. Even when Michael was holding my hand on our forth date, I still kept telling myself, “Oh Nel, he’s one of those people that uses physical contact to show he’s engaged in conversation.” And frankly it wasn’t until I started sleeping with him -- oh, christ, too much? Sorry, not really the right sort of content to be sharing. But you see my point. I didn’t realize Michael and I had been legitimately dating for nearly eight months. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I’d realized sooner, he wouldn’t have -- you know what, nevermind. There’s no use dwelling on it. Michael is dead. He gave himself up to stop the Spiral’s ritual and that’s all that matters. He did us a service but well, it put me into a bind. Kind of literally. I’ll fast forward through our relationship -- we were all but short of living together. My apartment was too small. Would you believe it was Lukas housing? And he was living too far for me to comfortably be able to commute after my longer days. He was something of a rock for me on my rough days where I’d be at the Institute well into the night. I didn’t like being there late. Always felt like someone was watching me. Heh, well, it wasn’t paranoia. And present me is glad to reassure past Nelson that no, he was not being an anxious mess. He really was being watched. Some nights Michael would stay with me until I finished what I had been working on. Other nights he’d make a point of coming back later in the evening to check on me only to have to wake me up and send me home. Sometimes I wonder if he had ever actually gone home those days. He’d become wrapped up in his own studies under Gertrude. It wasn’t my business so I never asked unless he chose to share.

That’s a lie, and you know it, don’t you? I was a snoop. I would hear Michael mentioning things some nights when I stayed at his place. Whatever it was Gertrude was having him do, it was eating at him. He talked about always being afraid he was taking the wrong door when he was going places. He’d started taking photographs of the doors he used most often. Told me to make sure it was so he wouldn’t get lost. He didn’t want to go somewhere he couldn’t leave. I suggested he put something on the doors he used most so he wouldn’t get confused. But it didn’t seem to reassure him. Some nights he didn’t sleep at all. He’d either just lay in bed with me until the sun came up. Some mornings I’d wake up to find him facing a wall, hand outstretched as if he were taking a doorknob. He would always be so relieved when I called out to him. He’d always settle into bed next to me and he wouldn’t speak. He would just hang tight on to me and just remain still and silent. Now, trust me, Michael was not mentally ill. I mean, your standard depression and anxiety like nearly everyone our age, but he wasn’t unmedicated, nor was he struggling with anything else. Or maybe he was and he just didn’t know. But I genuinely believe -- no, I know -- that how he was acting was not a sign of mental illness. Something had him. I can only say now that I know something had him, because I know what happened now. He only started acting himself again in the days before he and Gertrude left. He was excited. Talked about how thrilled he was to be needed for something so important. He loved his work and he was very dedicated to aiding Gertrude in her work as well. And he was himself again for a short while. We’d been together I think a little over two years at this point. Longest I’ve ever been with a man. Most men get turned off by me being trans so early in the relationship, but Michael didn’t mind. He just liked me and I have to say, hiccups in his health aside, I think we were very happy together. He was so optimistic that week before -- said that he thought that it was time that we moved in together properly. He said he’d seen some places for rent a bit closer to the Institute that on our combined income would be a walk in the park. He wanted to know if my parents were ever going to be visiting London again because he felt he was ready to meet them. After two years together of us being content in our stations, suddenly he was ready to make more of these commitments with me and honestly. . .I couldn’t have been happier. I was half expecting him to mention marriage at some point, but it still seemed a bit soon for that. But I wouldn’t have said no. We were happy. And when he woke me up before leaving for his flight, kissed me and told me he loved me -- I was sure I had such a bright future to look forward to. I was absolutely in love with Michael Shelley, and. . .

You know how the Spiral is the concept of the fear of lies and deception? You know how it alters your perception of reality? You know how it twists and writhes and fills you with doubt and frustration? With how it makes you question anything and everything in your life? Imagine all of that culminating at once. Imagine suddenly being stricken by the anger and betrayal of whether or not this man you absolutely adored was lying to you. Betrayal of ones feelings I think might be the absolute worst thing you could ever experience.

I had eagerly counted down the days of Michael’s return. It was all I could hope for. I had found a few places I wanted to look at with him. I’d even called my parents back in Massachusetts to tell them the good news. And when Gertrude came back alone? She pulled me aside and told me at the very least she owed me some sort of answer. I had thought Michael maybe had just gone straight home and gone to bed. He probably had some sort of jetlag and needed to rest. But all she told me was that Michael would not be coming back. And she wouldn’t say anything more.

I found out what happened on my own. Though I think Elias may have had something to do with it. Who am I kidding, I know he had something, maybe everything to do with it. My access to the archives was cut off after Michael left. I wasn’t allowed in unless Gertrude saw it absolutely necessary and I was under strict supervision. In the past she’d noticed that I’d swipe the occasional statement for a few days before returning it and she wasn’t...too fond of that. Or me in general. I think her general dislike of me is half the reason, if not all the reason I never joined the archives team, despite being a perfect fit for the position. No, it wasn’t just Elias. Michael I think left me hints too. I had gone to his apartment after a week thinking maybe he might have actually needed some space before we moved in together and that’s why Gertrude was being cryptic because she didn’t know herself. But when I got there, the apartment had been untouched since I’d left for work the morning of Michael’s departure. Everything was in its place. I spoke to his landlord, mentioned that he had disappeared and that the place needed to be cleaned out. But as it were, before he left he’d put my name on the lease somehow. It had seemed he might have actually prepared for this. I mean, I know now that he had. But back then I was so angry. But I couldn’t just express it. I felt like nothing made sense. I felt like he had abandoned me, but in such a way where he wanted me to be taken care of in his absence. I didn’t understand any of it. Rent had been paid up for the next few months and I was able to use this time to take care of my own affairs. I moved in to Michael’s apartment. I kept his name on the least just in case. I decided I’d rather have a longer nightly commute home than live in that lonely apartment of mine. I’d like some sort of company even if it was in the form of Michael’s belongings. The unfortunate side was that the apartment now had twice as much stuff and I had to do some cleaning. It was while I was cleaning, I found some of Michael’s hints. Statements that I had never laid my eyes on. Photocopies of ones that were likely still in the archive. In truth, Michael had been lying to me. More than he let on. But now I realize it had been a lie to protect me. He could only do so much for me while he was around though, ‘cause before you knew it, I was absorbing as much information as I possibly could about what he’d left behind for me to read. It was astounding. What he’d left for me perfectly summed up so many of the connections in the study I’d been finishing for my grad studies. Who would have guessed that my own boyfriends disappearance would have led to me completing my degree! I say this happily, but it’s breaking my heart to do so. I really loved Michael, you know. I couldn’t really bear the idea of being without him. Maybe that’s what pushed me to start breaking into the archives late at night. Maybe that’s how and why Elias started watching me. I don’t know if it was because he disapproved of what I was doing, or if he was just curious. I, uh, I don’t know if you’ve caught on. But Elias doesn’t watch all of us. Just those he thinks have some sort of weight. It probably had to do with how much I buried myself in what Michael left behind for me. After I obtained my degree all I could do was start researching. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have signed the proper employment contract. 20/20 as they say. I was obsessed, Jon. The moment I found out Sannikov Land wasn’t real, I lost myself. I tore apart the myths and legends I’d been studying my entire life to find some sort of hint or connections between what Michael left for me and the truth of it all. You’ll um, have to forgive me a bit if the rest sounds a little disjointed. Between Michael’s disappearance and Gertrude’s death, my grasp on reality started to. Slip? None of my memories connect smoothly. There’s patches. Blanks in time. I can only take a guess that these were from periods where I was lost in my own mania.

I wouldn’t say the Spiral had me yet. But it was definitely effecting my daily life. Like Michael, I started to see the doors. I started to find myself caught in lies and deception and doing whatever I could to find answers. I was living to deceive as long as it benefited me and my search. And like it had always been. They were selfish pursuits. It was knowledge I had to know for myself. It was knowledge I needed to obtain because I needed to find out what happened to Michael. Elias never intervened. He never tried to stop me. I have a couple memories of him pulling me aside and supplying me with some information that might help steer me on the right path. Or maybe the wrong one. I don’t know. Like I said. Those years were hazy. But he always seemed so pleased by my progress. He knew then. He had to know. This is Elias we’re talking about. He had to have known where I was headed. Jackass... I don’t have much clarify until shortly after Gertrude died. I had been in the halls. I was staring at something on the wall -- probably a door. I passed Elias. He didn’t look right. He looked like he was staring through me. Said something about how someone should lock the archives. Gertrude had passed away and he needed to make sure the room was locked up until someone new was hired. He handed me a key and sent me on my way. I think he was telling me to take what I needed if it would help me in my search for Michael. Whatever it is I had found, that was when I think I had finally succumbed to the Spiral’s influence over me.

You know the funny part about this. . .We didn’t hear that Gertrude passed away for another three days. I suppose that’s the funny thing about being touched by the Spiral. You just accept the falsehoods, even when you know they’re falsehoods. And in the end? It benefited me. Just as I always wanted.

Since I’m being honest here. Being in that labyrinth was the first time in years I actually didn’t feel like I was losing my mind. I wasn’t scared. In fact it felt like taking a walk in the park. I held a large armful of folders of statements in my arms. And all I did was walk. I passed countless doors and passages and turned through winding corners and corridors and nothing about it filled me with any dread or unease. It felt like I belonged there. I say this knowing full well that my comfort likely had something to do with being in the domain of what had been driving me those past few years. I don’t think the Distortion liked my reaction, though. At one point, I found a dead end. There was only one door, and when I opened it, I was back in my office. I didn’t imagine it, of course. That wouldn’t be the first time I ventured there. I usually went in of my own volition. I don’t know if the Distortion found me to be a nuisance or not. But whenever I saw a new door, I simply would knock first and announce I was coming in. And whenever I went in, it was just the same. An odd comfort like I belonged there. I felt like a visitor in someone’s home. It was like when I first started to spend the night at Michael’s. It was as if the halls were no harm to me, even though it was not my dwelling. I was allowed to be there. Perhaps I was even being invited. But if the Spiral disliked my presence, it never did so in such a way that caused me any fear or harm.

It was my third time within the Spiral that I started calling out.

I had done enough research by now and learned enough to know what the Spiral was. What it could do. Where it was leading me. And to know all about Michael’s connection to it. And I started to call his name, hoping I might hear him respond. I didn’t want to believe he was dead yet. I wanted to believe he was somewhere within these halls and he needed to be found. Even at the cost of myself, I wasn’t going to leave him. And then, it hit me. The more I called for him, the more welcoming the halls became. The more I began to find that I wasn’t just comfortable. I was welcome. I was able to spend more and more time in the Spiral each time. I knew quite well that I was likely losing more and more of myself with each trip. I would talk to no one, or perhaps someone, whenever I was there. I would have conversations with whatever was residing in the halls. Like I was spending my time with a friend. Like I was talking to Michael. Maybe it was something I did to keep myself grounded the deeper I ventured. When I came out, I often could not sleep. I wouldn’t show up to work for days at a time, either due to the passage of time itself in the Spiral, or just because I couldn’t find the strength. My visits only began to slow when I started to notice the door in Michael’s apartment. It had stopped appearing anywhere else. Just Michael’s place. There had been something etched into the door. The method I had given Michael about how to be sure the doors he used in his regular life were the right ones. There had been a slight carving around the doorknob. I had etched it into the door of Michael’s apartment back when he first started to show signs of concern. It was his door. But he was not here to open it. It sat across from our bed, like it was waiting for me. It wanted me to open it. But this time, I was not invited to come inside. So I did something else. I just opened it. I opened the door and I left it open wide. And I said that whatever was in there that wanted to see me so badly could come out. This was a new behavior. And I welcomed it, just as it had welcomed me. That was when I met the Distortion.

It didn’t look like Michael when I first met with it. It looked like a young woman, maybe late teens. Dark skin and hair but her shoulders were unnaturally hunched up and her hands. They were so long and spindly. She was dressed in gym wear, a loose, cut up t-shirt and yoga pants. And she sat on the bed in front of me. I left the door open. Day in, day out. I had left an invitation for the Spiral to come in to my residence and it took a week or so before it took form and visited me. I had managed to be sleeping that night, but something stirred in me and caused me to wake up. And I found it sitting cross legged on the bed. Just staring at me. I don’t think the Spiral had decided to use Michael’s form yet when it came to mingling with people yet. Maybe I was the reason it started to, but I wasn’t sure. Still not.

It asked me a question. It’s voice unnerved me and it smiled at me as it spoke and there was something so wholly unsettling about that smile. Like my head was aching from just looking at it. And it asked what was so important that I was always coming in its doors. It told me it was quite bothered by my coming in and making no means of trying to escape, or find its center. It didn’t like that I was searching for someone rather than something. I told it that I was looking for my boyfriend. He was inside there somewhere and I was going to bring him out. I’m not sure if it liked that response but it left after that. Not for good, because a few nights later the same thing happened. But this time, it sat in the form of a man. He was about forty or so, olive skin, light hair with a stern, crooked nose and a scruffy beard. It asked if this was the person I had been looking for. And I said no. And it was gone again. This went on every few nights for, god, close to a year. Each time I would give it another bit about how Michael looked. I tried to show it a photograph before but when it looked at my phone, the screen just went fuzzy and I had to restarted it in order for it to work right again.

Until one night it got it right. It spoke in the same voice, although there was a different, almost feedback like twang to the way it spoke to me. And when I awoke, the Spiral had gotten it right. I saw my Michael sitting on the bed in front of me and the sight of him was enough to get me to throw off my covers and kneel in front of him, hands upon his face. I must have been crying or maybe it was looking straight at the Spiral, but I couldn’t get a clear look at him. I told it that it was right and this was the person I was looking for. And I needed him back.

And you know what it said?

‘No, I don’t think so.’

I don’t think I had ever been so scared to see Michael’s smile. It just smiled at me and it ran the tip of one of those long, spindly fingers under my chin and I hadn’t even registered that it had made me bleed. And it just said ‘No, I think I shall keep this one a little more. See how far you’re willing to go to get him back.’

And it went into the door again. This time it smiled the whole way. And when the door closed. I was immediately on my feet to run at it to chase it down. But the door was gone.

I took something equivalent to a sabbatical a few weeks later, Jon -- it was around the time you started as archivist. Tim had been working beneath me before my sabbatical and I think that’s part of what drove him to join your team. I was going to be gone for a few months and I wouldn’t have the chance to give him any work to do. Elias was more than happy to give me the time off, but he did something to me. I think as assurance I wouldn’t go running away forever. I think I had started to become a threat to him in some way. Not sure how. Still not. Part of me is somewhat convinced that Elias was planning on using me to get the Spiral to touch you, but I don’t things went exactly as he expected. Especially considering the Spiral had plans of its own.

I was on leave for about three months. I took a few weeks to fly back to the States to visit my parents and check in with the Foundation. I checked in with the archive staff there to see if I could scour some of their resources for what I had been experiencing. But we were never as well equipped with statements as the Magnus Institute. I found a lot of my efforts there weren’t really worth my time. Although I did learn a little about a few groups in North America that had their eye -- Jon, keep an eye out on the Codley family of New York. They’re a cult family, but I wasn’t able to pinpoint of what exactly. If I find out more, I’ll let you know. I only met one person back at the Usher Foundation that knew anything that might help me. In fact, it was their own archivist, man by the name of Warren Chase. I’m actually still in touch with him, if you ever want to meet him. He seems to be following your accounts pretty intensely. Said that he’s been having duplicates of your statements and recordings sent to him. We know who’s to blame for that, obviously. Truth be told, he’d asked me to come back to the Foundation. He wanted me to join his team, but I had to decline. Work here is far too time consuming. But, you see, Warren hadn’t been touched by the Spiral, but he’d been touched by the Stranger. Stranger apparently is very tied in with the Foundation. Something to do with the number of secret organization and secret government activities happening back in the States that there are people within our own organizations that are not what they seem to be. Now, Warren seemed to be far more optimistic about my situation than I was. Told me that if one can keep their head when dealing with these entities, you can retrieve someone lost to them. I mean...you were able to bring back Daisy. I’ve had no such luck.

Jon, I know Michael’s gone now. The Spiral swaps its forms whenever it so chooses and I know it discarded Michael’s form when I. . .When I took too long. I’ve met it as it is now. Helen is the name of the woman it appears as. It’s told me that I knows me, but it has no attachment for me now like it had when it was Michael. It knows Michael had loved me.

But it was the time that the Distortion was Michael that was what ultimately brought me to where I am. I’m just one foray or so away from becoming its next avatar at this point and I mean it when I say that I am absolutely fine with that. I spent the time of my leave looking for those doors. Looking for how to get into the Spiral from other entrance ways and other methods to get myself lost in those halls again. This time from a new vantage point, from a new perspective. I was going to find Michael and I was going to bring him home! And I like to think that I nearly succeeded. It might sound absurd to you but, I think I had become something like friends with the Spiral by the time I had figured some things out. It probably started when I had encountered it behind a bar during my last few days in the States before returning to London. It was preying on this young woman who was trying to tell her friends about this store she’d kept passing each day on her home from work, and each time she would try to take someone there it was always an old butcher’s shop, long since closed down. I had noticed the Spiral lurking around and when I found myself in the men’s room looking at what appeared to be a door to the outside, I stepped out of the room and found the actual entrance to the back of the bar. The Spiral had been waiting for me, wearing Michael’s face as it had grown fond of doing. And I told it that I had figured one thing out. I knew that just because it looked like Michael, it was not Michael. And I think that curried my favor with it a bit. It liked that I was playing its game and calling its bluff. And it became just that with me and the Distortion. A game between the two of us. The Spiral in its own way was entertained by my dedication. And somewhere down the line, I think we became, well, I like to think we had become friends. Or as close to friends as you can be wit the entity of Deceit.” And Nelson stops, and he stands up and smiles at Jon. “I think this is where you say ‘Statement ends’ isn’t it?” The recording does not stop, but Jon looks up at the researcher who has now raised to his feet and offered a smirk to the archivist. “You’d be surprised how many of us can be touched by our host without losing our wits. Maybe I’ll indulge you with the rest sometime. Take care, Jon.”

#tma #the magnus archives #OC fanfition #evan talks his ocs #nelsoncore

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jawnjendes · 5 years

Text

dive into the dark | shawn mendes

chapter 11/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: sry for the delay summertime depression has come with a vengeance lulz have some angsty comfort

***let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist

“There once was a boy named Shawnie, destined to be a star.”

Why was that the last straw? Why was a photo of Stella, Shawn, and Camila dressed as Hogwarts students at a Halloween party the thing to send Annalise spiraling? What about that measly little Instagram post possessed Annalise to text her former shrink at four in the morning?

It’s not like she wanted to go to any of the stupid parties on campus. In the past, she and Patrick would hang out in a cemetery and be with the dead. Yes, she gave in to those goth stereotypes sometimes too. Annalise justified it by claiming she was celebrating Dia de los Muertos. This year, however, she just stayed in the dorm by herself, her own Hogwarts outfit sitting in her closet, making no noise and pretending it doesn’t exist. She was alone long enough for everything to come down on her, and the photo of her friends and not-boyfriend all but broke her to pieces.

So on November first, Annalise found herself in Callie’s office. It wasn’t hard getting herself to go there; Therapy had been a constant in her life for a year, and she missed it. She knew she had things to get off her chest, but it stalled when she was actually sat in front of Callie, who was quite happy to see her.

“It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?” she said, smiling warmly. “Where were we the last time you were here?”

Annalise shrugged. “I had exams going on, and I was picking out classes and a dorm for the next semester.”

“Right. And you’re in between classes now if I remember from your text. So all that went well, I assume?”

“Yeah. Still in school. Still working.”

Callie nodded. She hadn’t written anything on her clipboard yet. “I don’t mean to pry, but I also heard you were in the hospital for a bit?”

“Did Shawn tell you that?” Annalise’s polite tone changed. “He’s always telling everyone my business.”

Surprisingly, Callie wasn’t bothered by the sudden mood change. “I believe you told me over text. We had to pause our sessions because you were in recovery.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all snappy.” She went red.

“It’s alright. So, would you like to talk about what happened in the hospital?”

That was all the first session was: hospital talk. Annalise knew this story like the back of her hand, but it was less annoying telling it again because Callie already knew the stuff about the pre-existing health problems. It’s on reason why Annalise started therapy in the first place.

“Now, whenever my mom or dad call me, a majority of the conversation is about what I’m eating,” she explained. “Or what I should be eating. And Shawn constantly reminds me not to skip meals. I know I’m sick, but it gets so annoying sometimes. I know my body, and I know what I’m feeling.”

“Okay, hang on,” Callie said, holding up a hand to stop her. “You refer to yourself as sick?”

Annalise had to think about it. It came out of her mouth, but she never really processed that she was saying it. “Yeah. That’s how my parents always put it since it all started, I guess I picked it up from them.”

“Well, I - and I’m sure plenty of other people - don’t see you as sick. You were in the hospital, you had surgery, and now you’re fine. Ann, if you keep referring to yourself as a sick person, it will have an impact on your mental wellbeing. You are not sick, you have a chronic sickness.”

For some reason, that hit in the very center of Annalise’s chest. If she was cracked from the Instagram photos, then this practically burst the dam. She nodded, processing Callie’s words, but one part stuck out to her.

“I am fine now. It wasn’t a life threatening case, anyway.”

“Well, you did bleed internally after the first surgery,” Callie corrected. “And you had an infection on the incisions after. That’s not nothing. That’s very dangerous, and life threatening.”

“But it wasn’t that bad. They caught it in time, and I don’t even remember what it felt like. Besides, it’s not like I have cancer or anything.” Annalise paused and looked down. “Everything went fine, despite the infections and near death. I’m back to doing what I did before, but I feel… I didn’t die, but it feels like a part of me did.”

Callie now wrote on her clipboard, her pen scribbling being the only sound in the room. Then, she trailed her green eyes over to Annalise. “And it’s okay to feel that way. Putting your life in the hands of anyone, including medical professionals, makes you very vulnerable as it is. Adding surgery to that only adds to the vulnerability, not to mention it is invasive and can be quite traumatizing.”

“Helpless and dependent too,” Annalise added, picking at her nails. “Practically useless.”

“Let’s not say useless, okay? You needed help. You were recovering for surgery, it was for your own wellbeing.”

She shrugged, not exactly agreeing with that statement despite the truth in it. “I just don’t like depending on people.The nurses always pushed me to move on my own without disturbing the incisions, but I could never bring myself to do it. I knew I had to so I could properly heal, but I felt so lazy and weak. I felt like a sack of potatoes, having to be physically moved everywhere.”

There were times Callie would react to things her clients said. This was one of those times. She chuckled and raised her eyebrows. “A sack of potatoes?”

Annalise smiled timidly. “Yeah…”

That settled the homework Annalise was left with. She had to cut the harmful words out of her vocabulary. She was not useless. She was not lazy. She was most certainly not a sack of potatoes.

She felt okay during the session, but as soon as she was back in her car, Annalise felt the weight slam on her chest. As she drove back to campus, she started to remember things that she didn’t even know were in her head. She noticed the difference in a nurse who worked in the day versus the night. One was much perkier than the other. She never saw the same nurse twice during the entire stay. She couldn’t even count the amount of people who lifted up her gown to examine the incisions, much less the people who actually asked if they could expose her like that.

Heart pounding, Annalise moved a shaking hand towards the radio, turning up the volume and letting the sounds of 5SOS soothe her anxious state.

Today wasn’t supposed to be spent alone in the apartment, serenading a cat. Shawn loved Henry to bits and pieces, but this wasn’t the lady he was supposed to be spending time with. He appreciated that she didn’t run when he sang. Or shit all over his romantic gesture. She did shit right next to her litter box, though, and that was annoying to deal with.

“I can’t see one thing wrong between the both of us…” he trailed off, strumming his guitar. Then he sighed; That line didn’t age well.

Henry tilted her round head at the sound of the guitar. It was entertaining to watch, but not enough to make Shawn laugh or even smile. She jumped down from the top of the couch cushion and down to the carpet, stretching her limbs before scurrying over to the condo. Shawn watched her and then let his head fall back to the arm of the couch. He strummed an entirely different song.

“Beggin’ to hear your voice… tell me you love me too…”

He nearly fell off the couch when his phone went off, going from zero to one hundred in less than a second. He was still on the waiting game with both work and the live lounge, and the possibility of either of these places calling him back was enough to make him chuck his guitar across the room. He didn’t, though, he just hastily set it down as he answered the phone call without even looking at the ID.

He really should have. Let’s just say, Shawn was George O’Malley, and the voice on the other line was a fucking bus.

“Shawn?”

“Ann?”

A small pause. Then, she spoke very fast, before Shawn could even process what the fuck was happening. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting or not talking to each other, I know I’m supposed to be mad at you - and I still am - but, uh… I… I’m - can we call a truce? Just for an hour or two?”

He almost said yes in a heartbeat, but he caught himself. “What do you mean by truce? What’ll happen during those hours?”

Ann’s hesitation meant that she knew he was talking about the previous check ins. “It’s not like that. I promise. It’s just… something’s kind of happening, and I don’t think I can deal with it by myself.”

“You need to be more specific. What’s going on?”

“I’m in pain. Physical pain.”

Now it was Shawn’s turn to stay quiet. “Oh…”

Needless to say, Ann came over. For once, she was in sweatpants instead of her pajama bottoms. She also had on a black hoodie with the words “Positive Mental Attitude” on the sleeves. Her long, dark hair was down but very unkempt, and her olive skin was looking paler than normal.

The first thing Shawn did was feel her forehead for a fever. Ann made a small noise at the gesture, her brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” he said, taking his hands away. “I was just checking.”

She sighed as she let herself into the living room. “You remind me of my mother more and more every day. Not even a hello, just straight with the touching and worrying.”

Shawn resisted rolling his eyes. Didn’t she understand he did that because he cares? “How come you didn’t just go straight to the doctor?”

“It’s not excruciating,” she replied. “It’s bothersome, and it’s definitely there. But it’s not keeping me from doing anything.”

“Is it the same pain as before? In your abdomen?”

Ann shook her head, growing a little timid. “It’s around my ovaries. Pelvic pain.”

“You period?”

“Already passed. I’ve been feeling this for two days.”

Shawn tried very hard not to flip out. He resisted the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She’s been in pain for a whole forty eight hours and she hasn’t done anything about it? This is exactly how it happened last time.

“So again,” he said, attempting to sound calm, “why don’t you just go to the doctor? Why are you here of all places?”

Ann had been looking at her hands the entire time. But when she locked her tired eyes with Shawn’s, he knew just how serious and important her next statement was.

“I can’t face the doctor alone.”

“You want me to go with you.” It wasn’t a question. Shawn was just able to pull the words out of her.

“Please?” she asked. “I know things are off right now but you’re the only one I can count on. You’re the only one who’s seen this side of me.”

Shawn would be lying if he said that didn’t tug on his heartstrings. Ann needs him, and she is admitting to that. But one thing stuck out in his mind; She had been asking a lot of him. She asked him for the separation, to be patient with her, and now this.

But it seems like Ann knows how to pull things out of him too. “You said you would make it up to me. This would help.”

Then again, when did she ever ask Shawn for help?

Ann insisted on driving, but Shawn dragged her into his Jeep. She navigated the way to her gyno, bouncing her legs on the way. That was when Shawn noticed that the serious faced, composed-by-nature girl was long gone. When did she lose that part of herself? That fundamental part of who she is seemed to fade away over the last few months, and Shawn was only now catching onto that? No wonder she was so angry at him all the time. It was a cry for help.

“What do you think it is?” he asked her. “The pain?”

“I don’t know. That’s what’s got me kinda worried,” she replied. “I’ve never felt this before. Google said they might be cysts that have to be surgically removed, so I stopped looking.”

Kinda worried? She was scared, scared to the point where she needed someone with her. Meaning, Shawn had to remain calm and collected, despite being worried himself.

“It’s probably nothing major,” he said, still managing to follow the voice from the Maps app on Ann’s phone. “They’ll prescribe you something, and you’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Shawn took a quick glance at her. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Nothing more was said until Shawn had pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. He shut off the engine and took off his seatbelt, properly turning to face Ann.

“Hey, look at me.”

Slowly, her head turned towards him, like she was hesitating. Shawn wanted to hold her hand or cup her cheek, but it was hard to tell what was allowed her.

“No matter what happens,” he told her, “you will be okay. You will come out of this.”

He stood by her as she spoke to the receptionist. He sat with her in the waiting room as she filled out three different forms on a clipboard. Shawn wondered how she wasn’t confused by any of the questions; He always needed his mom or dad with him at any appointment to help him.

The wait wasn’t long once Ann turned in the paperwork. A nurse called her back, and Ann gestured for Shawn to follow.

“How are you, Ms. Flores?” the nurse asked as she led them down a blank, white corridor.

“Swell,” she replied in a way that did not sound swell.

“Right in here.” She turned the corner and gestured to a small room. “We’re just going to take a little bit of blood. The physician will be right with you.”

Ann silently went and sat in the big chair next to the counter with all the blood taking tools. She sat back like it was second nature. Shawn merely stood against the back wall, unsure of what to do with himself. This room was clearly made for two people, and he wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

Finally, a woman in a white lab coat entered the room, putting on a pair of latex gloves. She smiled warmly. “Let’s get this show on the road! Now which one of you is Annalise Marie Flores?”

“I don’t have a middle name,” Ann told her, very much not on the same level as the perky medic.

She pointed at her. “That was a test to verify your name, and you passed! Now I just need you to verify your date of birth!”

“Twelve. Twenty seven. Ninety seven.” Still not amused, but Shawn was. The two different energies was almost comical.

The physician approached the counter as she got her tubes and needle ready as she continued speaking. “A fellow Capricorn. That’s the best sign. Except I was born on Christmas Eve so my birthday was always overlooked.”

Ann only nodded, visibly disinterested.

“So, which arm are you gonna let me poke?” the physician asked.

“Whichever has the best vein,” she simply replied.

It was like a script Ann had memorized. How many times had she done this in the past?

Shawn looked at the floor as soon as Ann was stuck with the needle. It was a good minute of listening to the physician hum to herself before she finally acknowledged Shawn.

“Here for moral support?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his boots. “She asked me to come, I couldn’t say no.”

“Friendship goals, right there.”

He smiled, despite the pang of annoyance that struck his chest. Was the rift between them that obvious?

“Alright, let’s get a look at your battle wound.” She wrapped up Ann’s arm in cotton and gauze. “So, your results will be ready in a few minutes, and I’ll be back to go over them and see where to go from there!”

“Okay,” was all Ann had to say.

“Thank you,” Shawn told the lady before she left.

Ann let her head fall back against the chair as soon as they were alone. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “I liked that lady, she was cool.”

Shawn chuckled. “Yeah, you guys acted like such best friends.”

“Well, at least she knows Capricorns are superior.”

“You act like you’ve never met a Leo.”

For the first time today, Ann cracked a smile. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I know your act of having your shit together is exactly that.”

Maybe astrology wasn’t all bullshit. Shawn wanted to say something to prove her wrong, but then he would be proving her point at the same time.

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, making Ann grin even wider.

It was good to see that, so he let it slide.

Another few minutes went by and a different woman in a lab coat entered the room. It was a lady in her 30s, blonde hair, kind but professional face. Her presence made Ann visibly perk up.

“Hello, Ms. Flores,” the doctor said with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

"Dr. Pacini," Ann greeted. "I didn't think you would be here, I kind of came at the last minute."

"Well, I heard you were here, and I had a look at your blood test results." She stopped herself and placed her hands on her hips, acknowledging Shawn. "Is this the boyfriend you told me about?"

Ann nodded silently.

"Hi," Shawn greeted, holding his hand out. He couldn't ignore the tiny jump his heart did hearing that Ann talked about him.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Pacini said, shaking his hand. Then she turned back to Ann. "So it's okay that he's in here while we discuss your results?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

The blood test showed that Ann's hormones were completely unbalanced, and apparently that wasn’t anything new. She was very high in testosterone, and that was when Shawn learned that women could actually produce that hormone. What was news to Ann was that she was also anemic and low in potassium. Then they discussed her irregular menstrual cycle (another thing Shawn didn’t know about), and more personal information was taken in. Ann really wanted Shawn here to witness this? She could barely talk about her day without thinking she was oversharing.

"Were there any changes with your birth control?" Dr. Pacini asked.

"I missed some doses when I was in the hospital," Ann replied, suddenly timid. “And a few doses after I was discharged.”

“How many exactly?”

She looked down and mumbled. “Three months…”

"And that is plenty of time for new cysts to form on your ovaries. So if it's alright with you, I'd like to do a pelvic exam and a vaginal ultrasound."

Shawn knew Ann so well that the split second pause meant that this is what she had been afraid of. He finally stepped towards the chair she was sitting in, silently letting her know he was there.

"It's entirely up to you," Dr. Pacini said, "but I strongly suggest it. It would give us the chance to rule out anything serious."

Ann nodded. "Um… do I have to make another appointment and come back another time?"

"No, we can get it all done today."

"Oh-kay, then."

Dr. Pacini led them out of the room and down the hallway. Ann looked at Shawn as they went, anything but masking composure. He placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked into a different observation room.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how intense is the pain?” Dr. Pacini asked.

“About a six,” Ann replied. “I can function, but I can’t ignore it.”

“Got it. So just strip from the waist down, lie down on the chair, and we’ll get started.”

Ann wanted Shawn to sit closer as she was examined, so he did. The only reason why this was weird was because Ann did not like being this vulnerable in front of anyone, even Shawn. That, and she was still apparently fuming from their last fight, yet something about all of this made her reach out to him in need. He played with her hair as he tried yet again to understand the way her mind works.

Dr. Pacini noticed the tiny gesture. “How long have you two been together?”

Not surprisingly, Ann didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t be the one to say they were together at a time like this, pelvic exam aside.

“One year today,” Shawn answered anyway.

“Well, congratulations.” Dr. Pacini smiled.

Ann looked at him, now distracted from what was going on downstairs. “One year?”

“Yeah. November seventh. Took you on a date to the coffee shop.”

“Didn’t think we’d spend our anniversary like this.”

He knew she meant that in more ways than one. Shawn didn’t think he would be here either, hanging onto the tiny thread Ann had provided. And to think he really thought about the idea of considering ending things permanently… He was a sucker for her.

“Okay, my dear,” Dr. Pacini said, sitting up straight. “Onto the ultrasound.”

“Anything weird down there?” Ann asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I did detect some bumps on your ovaries, so I need to get a better look at what exactly those are.” She held up a long, thin… thing. “Just like the pelvic exam, it’ll be uncomfortable but not painful.”

Shawn chose not to look directly at it for more than a second. He kept his eyes on Ann’s anxious face as the ultrasound began. He had so many questions: Was this her first vaginal ultrasound? How many times has she come to see Dr. Pacini in the past? How long was she on birth control? What reproductive disorder did she have that required her to take birth control? Why did they ever use condoms if she was already on birth control?

It took a bit longer to get the results for the ultrasound, making Ann stay hauntingly quiet as she got dressed again. Shawn really didn’t know what to say that wasn’t any of the questions circling his head. When Dr. Pacini came back with the results, she deemed that there were in fact, new cysts forming. However, it wasn’t severe or particularly harmful, so Ann was prescribed a new birth control along with progesterone.

“That’s it?” Ann asked in disbelief. “That’s all I need?”

“That’s it,” Dr. Pacini confirmed. “If the pain persists, or gets worse, then by all means come right back. But it’s quite unlikely given where your pain level is at now. Just give it a few days and remember to breathe.”

Ann took a deep breath. It wavered as she exhaled, making Shawn rub her back.

“See? You’re gonna be fine,” he told her reassuringly.

“As long as you take your pills,” Dr. Pacini said firmly. “These are what will keep your pain from coming back. The birth control will manage the PCOS and the progesterone will help shrink the cysts. You’re usually on top of this, Annalise, can I ask what happened in the last few months?”

She shrugged, clearing her throat. Shawn knew what that meant, and he debated answering for her.

“Being in the hospital didn’t do anything for my mental health, I think,” Ann spoke softly.

Dr. Pacini looked between her and Shawn. He nodded in confirmation, trying not to externally show how much his heart was aching. Of course, the doctor asked to elaborate, so Shawn explained the surgery, the almost-death, and the second surgery. It helped her understand, and it made Ann cry in the observation room.

“I see,” Dr. Pacini said as she nodded. “Post surgical depression is very common. Clinical depression on its own can cause you to not care for yourself the way I know you can. I can’t prescribe you anything because it’s not my area of expertise, but Annalise. Look at me.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed, her puffy, reddened eyes meeting the doctor’s.

“You will come out of this.”

The silence was loud as Shawn and Ann left the clinic. Ann read the papers Dr. Pacini had given her over and over, brows scrunched in concentration. She only stopped to get back in the car and put on her seatbelt, clearly eager to get the hell out of here.

“You made it out okay,” Shawn gently told her.

“I still have to wait and see if the pain will go away,” she grumbled as she shoved the pages into her purse. “Just like last time.”

Shawn looked at her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Last time was different. I know you’re worried, but it doesn’t mean everything is going to repeat itself. Did you book an appointment with Callie?”

Ann was rubbing her hands together. “Yeah. I saw her last week and I’m going again tomorrow. That reminds me, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.” Heart: racing.

Shifting in her seat, Ann sighed deeply. “Okay. I don’t expect you to remember, and it’s okay if you don’t, but do you know what antibiotics they gave me for the infection on my incisions?”

That wasn’t at all what Shawn was expecting. Then again, he had no idea what was happening with this girl lately. When did he ever?

He thought for a moment before answering. “I don’t know the name of it. I remember that it was so strong it made you nauseous. The nurses told you not to puke because then you’d be puking up the medicine. Then, they took you off your Prozac and birth control so you weren’t taking in so much at once. The priority was to control the infection.”

The memory was still heartbreaking. Ann, with her sunken eyes screwed shut, frequently wiggling her fingers and toes in an attempt to keep everything down. She didn’t want to be touched or even talked to. When that side effect wore off, it was time for another dose. It was probably torture for her. Shawn remembered telling her he was going to the cafeteria when in reality he just went to cry to his mom or dad over the phone in the bathroom.

Ann tilted her head in thought. “You remember all that?”

“You don’t?” Shawn asked. “You were like that for a good few days.”

The hand rubbing continued. “I guess it’s blocked out of my head because it was so traumatic. Anyway, I just wanted to know…” She inhaled shortly. “Because uh, Callie wanted to pinpoint um, when I stopped taking the Prozac…” She inhaled again, like she was out of breath.

Shawn noticed the sporadic movements and grew concerned. “You okay?”

Ann rapidly nodded her head, despite her short breathing. “Yeah, just… hospital talk. I, I don’t really like it but I have to talk about it. She, uh, she warned me. I’d get really - fuck - uh, the dam burst, basically.”

“It’s apart of the process.” Shawn nodded, remembering his own flood of tears when he did the work of therapy. “Hey, look at me.”

She shook her head, shoulders tense. Her voice came out low and shaky. “I can’t feel my hands.”

“Can I see?”

Her hand was trembling wildly as she shyly held it out to Shawn. He ran his thumb over her fingers, noticing her stubby chewed up nails and the tiniest speck of black polish on the index. Then, he squeezed the pressure point between her thumb and index.

Ann gasped and looked up at him.

“Felt that?” Shawn asked, and she nodded. “See, you’re okay. You’re a strong lady.”

“I’m a strong lady…”

He affectionately rubbed her hand in both of his, offering a smile. He figured it was best to distract from the scary feelings. “Remember what was happening a year ago? I took you out to that coffee shop.”

“I was nervous,” she mumbled.

“Me too. When I picked you up at your dorm, the first thing I noticed was your red eyeshadow and I thought… red is my new favorite color. I also noticed you didn’t wear the black lipstick, and I really hoped it meant that you were going to kiss me.”

Ann was already blushing from the anxiety attack, but she breathed out a tiny laugh. “I really wasn’t. The nude lip was because we were going to eat…”

“Well, I like to think that you wanted to kiss me. And you did in the end, even after you said you don’t kiss on the first date.” Shawn was tickling the palm of her hand now, running his fingers over every line.

“It was a ‘fuck it’ moment…” Ann was watching his fingers move, like it was helping her focus.

“It’s probably one of my favorite moments with you. Because then I got to know the most amazing, strongest, badass lady I’ve ever seen, and I got to call her mine.”

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @someoneunimportantxx @ruinhoney @shawnvvmendes @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @shawmndes @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea @softmendesss @mutuallynotmutual

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #ngl i cried way too much at this shit #mainly bc im dealing with my own physical health #n tryin not to let my mental health deteriorate bc of it #this SUCKS man #im so tired n sad i want it to be over #just diagnose me or imma hackout my stomach #anyways thx for reading :))))

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save-the-spiral · 6 years

Text

Day Eleven- Cruel

Welcome to day eleven of Inktober 2018!! Decided to go with a bit of a self induglent theme, AKA whY do people keep sending kids off to be traumatized. Warnings for death mention, arguing, murder mention.

(link to prompt list) (link to inktober tag)

The staff meeting room for Ravenwood School of the Magical Arts was full of teachers, all in chairs accommodating for their size. The staff members all looked at each other awkwardly, a meeting like this unexpected after they already met a week ago for the first quarter discussion.

Arthur Wethersfield sat nervously in his plain wooden chair, his top hat in his lap and his cane and briefcase leaning against the chair’s legs. He worried the brim of the old hat, his carefully maintained claws almost piercing the fabric until he retracted them, anxious of anyone noticing.

Ambrose had sent a student as a messenger, calling them here, and now they just stewed in the silence, worried or annoyed or just bored.

“Welcome, Professors.” Headmaster Ambrose said, sitting in a cushioned red chair behind his desk, overflowing with papers and books.

Malorn Ashthorn, the representative for the Death school, squirmed in his seat, reminded that he was just barely an adult, let alone a professor. Arthur would’ve comforted him, but it would lack the professionalism needed for the situation.

Ambrose leaned back in his chair, his long beard shifting, magical eye glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. “I must inform you all of my plan to save the Spiral.” He finally said, voice grim.

Professor Falmea lifted on eyebrow, her fiery hair flashing. “Would this plan of yours have anything to do with my suddenly absent student, Giovanni?”

Silence reigned again as Ambrose shifted uncomfortably, answering the question without words.

“Y-Yeah.” Malorn said, his voice cracking with nerves, but he soldiered on. “Cindy hasn’t check in for almost a week.”

Arthur looked around the room, at the confused faces, the angry ones. He finally spoke up.

“Gloria and José have been absent as well.” He murmured. It might as well have been a shout in the silent room.

Ambrose stood, wobbling and leaning on his staff for support. “It would be best if you all could listen, so I can explain myself.” He said before settling down again.

“You better.” Professor Greyrose hissed into her tea, calming only when Professor Wu placed a gentle hoof on her shoulder.

The headmaster pinched his nose with his fingers, sighing. “I made a hard decision. Malistaire has been missing since midsummer, and the world has begun falling apart mysteriously, especially after the death school fell. He must be stopped, by any means possible.”

At the mention of his brother, Cyrus stiffened in his seat, his grip on his wand unyielding, faint creaking heard as he was on the verge of snapping it in two.

Ambrose continued. “I had to do something, and I heard rumor that he had moved onto Krokotopia, searching for an ancient artifact, so I had to act.”

“Headmaster, exactly where are the four missing students right now?” Halston Balestrom spoke up, his usual jovial tone gone, replaced with sharp edges and his angry hands clutching the arms of his small chair.

“They assisted me by saving the streets that were overrun, and they all defeated Foulgaze, as well as other evil creatures that tried to stop them. I saw they were capable, with good intentions and morals, so I gave them the key to Krokotopia, and-”

“Giovanni is only thirteen-” Falmea started, her hair now truly ablaze.

“Cindy’s fourteen-” Malorn said, eyes wide.

“Gloria is twelve, and José’s eleven.” Arthur stated flatly, before standing with the assistance of his cane, his hat falling to the floor. “Ambrose, just what the HELL are you playing at!” Arthur growled, hair on end as he realized the extent of what his employer had done.

“Listen-” Ambrose started, his hands raised defensively.

The others stared at Arthur. The new professor, the kind and gentle and caring dog, the one who never got angry or frustrated, who never raised his voice or barked at others. The one who spent years asking for just a classroom, a dorm at least, just so his students wouldn’t have to sleep in fucking tents.

"You most definitely have some explaining to do, Ambrose.” Falmea sneered, her hair sparking furiously as she stood at Arthur’s side, the support clear.

“Yes. Sending unqualified children on a quest is bad enough, but a quest to murder my brother seems a bit excessive in your goal to make the worst choice ever.” Cyrus said, his voice low and dangerous.

“We had a plan, Headmaster.” Moolinda chided, “Cyrus, Arthur, Lydia, and myself were all going to stop him over the winter holidays.”

Ambrose was breathing heavily. “There was no time!” He insisted.

“Then close the damn school, Ambrose! Send us and we’ll go! Malistaire was a good man overcome by grief, he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal!” Lydia said, fluttering out of her levitating seat and gesturing angrily.

“We need to go to Krok, now.” Arthur suddenly said, realizing. “The students can’t be qualified enough, I know they can’t. José and Gloria are both novices.” He paused, his nails scratching into his cane. “They might already be dead.”

“We should hurry.” Moolinda agreed with a nod as she stood up.

Cyrus was already standing, stalking out of the room with Lydia following him, her face pink with fury.

“Don’t you worry, Halston and I will handle this.” Dahlia said, the anger in her eyes enough to make Arthur internally flinch as he looked away, following after the other professors.

The adults all knew, had the common sense to acknowledge, that children aren’t pawns, aren’t little soldiers to be sent on whatever quest needs completing.

Cyrus’ grim eyes met Arthur’s, and they both nodded, determined as they made their way to the Spiral Door.

They had a Spiral to save.

#Wizard101 #Inktober #Inktober2018 #Wiz101 #W101 #Wizzy #Wizzy101 #Inktober 2018 Cruel #day 11 inktober #Wizard101 npcs #Merle Ambrose #Arthur Wethersfield #Dahlia Falmea #Halston Balestrom #Malorn Ashthorn #Cyrus Drake #Malistaire Drake mention #Lydia Greyrose #Moolinda wu

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mewlicent · 7 years

Text

The curtain falls. LONG post.

…So. I bet you’re wondering why I called you all here… heh.

I HAVE A PROBLEM. AND I NEED TO FIX IT.

I’ll cut right to it, then, because I had other stuff going on all morning/day and have only just gotten settled in front of my computer, and now it’s a whole day after I’d originally planned to do this, and so I think the time has finally come to stop putting it off and just “say my thing.”

I’m here to announce that I will no longer be updating this blog, at least until further notice but obviously it could be longer. I hope that makes sense… sheez… anyway.

This was not an easy decision to make, darlings. I wanted to love this blog. I wanted to love blogging in general. And fandom. And shipping. I wanted to fill this blog with that crabby ginger tabby, Millicent, hence the name, and Kylux in particular, and all manner of Star Wars and Night Vale and Carry On and my favorite actors, and above all, I just wanted to have a good time.

Those very things have gotten me and my best friend in a rut, and we recognize that there is an issue. Not so very long ago, she and I became deeply invested in one particular actor, who I will not name but you are all smart enough to figure it out… and, quite honestly, the whole thing got extremely out of hand. She and I are in no danger of breaking our friendship; I simply mean that this actor has been seen living his life and making personal life choices that were in no way wrong but still left us feeling… well… left out. I’ll explain in the next paragraph. The main thing you must understand is this: We are taking a step back from having anything to do with this actor or his work, and that in itself may very well be temporary OR it may be permanent, the jury’s still out on that. More to the point, the depth of our emotional investment has truly gotten bad enough that we can no longer feel comfortable staying on Tumblr where the issue is perpetuated and exacerbates our negative feelings.

Now… to be frank, this whole thing that I’m doing started as an act of solidarity and loyalty to her, it wasn’t originally my pain or my issue, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood what I was dealing with and putting myself through. And I realized that in other ways, it WAS my pain and it WAS my issue, just not in the exact same way.

At this point, I’m not too prideful to admit I did something very irresponsible. A few things, actually. I can’t speak for her, but as I brought up to her the other night, I am starting to really blur the lines between fiction and reality. I was real-people-shipping, seeing no other pairing and preferring no other pairing except for my best friend and this actor, and it was causing terrible pain for both of us even though this actor had done nothing to us directly.

That isn’t all. I wasn’t much better in that regard. I’m protecting my best friend’s privacy a bit by not mentioning the name of the actor that she and I fell for… but I will mention a name that connects to my own situation.

That name is Carrie. When I started this blog, back in July of last year (hey, at least I made it past the first “birthday!”), I had only wanted to throw fandom stuff at it and see what looked good. And then, that December, when Carrie Fisher had her heart attack and passed away, the entire mood of the blog shifted and changed and never really went back to the way it originally was. I didn’t actually realize it had gotten that bad until many months into the vicious loop, when I only had to see a pic of Carrie or Leia to just feel so sad and heartbroken at her death all over again, even after I thought I had recovered. Before I knew it, I started to only go on Tumblr whenever I was feeling sad or anxious, not for the purpose of cheering myself up, but to stay sad instead. And that’s where I am now. This obsession with mourning Carrie, on top of the anxiety of blurred lines and worrying about sad friends has led me to feel very suffocated, anxious, and depressed on an almost constant basis, and I really don’t think it started being this bad until I got back into Tumblr. (This was my second account in over three years at the time I started it up.) To clarify: I am not blaming Carrie Fisher or any bloggers for my spiral. I’m saying I was starting to become as addicted to her as I was to this other actor.

I need to say something else that’s very important, and by not saying it sooner I hope I haven’t caused anyone to worry or feel bad. My best friend and I are safe. We are safe, our lives are not in danger, we are going to be okay. It is nobody’s fault on here. Nobody here did anything wrong. We (as in she and I) tend to dislike the general atmosphere, but this particular hardship is not related to anything that anyone here did specifically. By getting the heck out of here when we did, we prevented the problems we were both having from getting any worse.

I honestly think that does it for the main body. Onward now to the shout-outs and thank-yous. If I’m forgetting anyone, I am truly sorry! I love you ALL.

@skarsjoy: Oh, my dear friend. You are one of my favorite people, and even though I honestly didn’t reblog that much Alex while I was here, I know you understand that I’ve always appreciated everything you’ve done for me and for the Alex fandom. I’m on Twitter still, so we can still talk. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. You’re so sweet, giving, and patient, and I love you dearly. I truly admire your willingness to post my reviews back in the day, and I just want you to know they’ll always be my favorite posts you’ve ever done. Keep on keepin’ on, and I’ll see you on the Twitt side.

@mixtapemasterjipc: Heyyyy, Jude. This is honestly one of the hardest parts of leaving this place. I have so many other people to thank, but you’re way way WAY up here because I just have so much to thank you for. In particular, what stands out to me is that time we watched Hungry Hearts together, and the time you came “running” to take care of me after that humongous sad post I wrote, and our first real life phone call together. “Girls” is still my favorite, and I’m so grateful you sent me season 3 for my birthday last year. I enjoy your wit, your big heart, and your knowledge. Thank you for coming to find me, and thank you for letting me in. I’m sorry for the tough stuff in the past. Let’s keep trying. Together. I ain’t goin’ anywhere for real, dude, like, seriously. Between Twitter and texting (and by the way, thank you for sending me your number!) you won’t exactly be able to get rid of me, so do. not. worry. I Love You.

@dxmi-illustrates: Hey you, thank you for talking with me when I first started hanging around this place. You’re a fantastic artist, and I hope that’ll continue to go well for you–I loved For Rent, especially. Good luck with all that, doll. Also, good luck with school!

@pidgy-draws: Sweetie, thank you for the chats. I’m happy I got to know you. You draw such cute art and I’m very proud of you! ^w^

@rebelwerewolf: I have a lot of respect for you. As a blogger, you have paid such loving respect to the Star Wars and Kylux fandoms, and as much good as you’ve done for this community, I hope that something wonderful happens to you too someday. Thank you.

@kyluxtrashbin: THANK YOU for my Christmas card! You’re so sweet and smart, and I’m happy to have known you for the short time I was here. I’ll write to you, sweetheart. Thank you.

@thegoodlannister: You just have such a sweet personality and I’m happy we’ve had the chats we did. You may not have ever known this but I started as a Stark and now I identify as a Lannister. You’ll hear my roar on some other distant shore, dude, I promise. Thank you.

@mintmintdoodles: You’re adorable and a darling, I love your freaking art, and I just really wanted to thank you for letting me use your Kylux + Millie chibi pic as my profile pic.

@elviscl: You’re incredibly awesome. You are an insanely talented artist, and I’m so happy the Kylux fandom has you. Keep on truckin, you. Thank you so much for letting me use that Kylux + Millie pic as my banner.

@deluxekyluxtrashcan: You’re a very talented writer, mah dude. Never give up. I love you. Thank you for the chats.

@flukeoffate: HEY LAYDEE. Thank you for the artwork you’ve done for me over the time I’ve been here. I’ll talk to you on FB still!!! Hope everything is going okay for ya. Love love!

@helliskylux: Where do I even start with you, my love? You have such a good heart, and gods I just hope wonderful things happen to you. Thank you for your friendship, and for all the love.

@minzimpression: I just think you are so talented and funny. Hotline Bling is such an amazing story, one of my most favorites. Thank you for your hard work and for talking to me. I fucking love you.

@teatimeinspace: You’re lovely! Thank you for your contributions to the Kylux fandom, and I wish you love and light and all good things.

@han-sulus: I really hope you’re doing okay. Thank you for your friendship. I love you so much.

@kylux-fic-hell: You’re awesome, and I love your fics! Never let your light die. Thank you for your work.

@hux-you-up: Your blog is epic, and I enjoyed following you! ^_^ Thank you.

@kyleauxwren: UGH YOU ARE AMAZING. I wish you all the best! Thank you for your contributions to the fandom and the art world!! My favorite thing was the Millie pins, but I’m absolutely floored by your other art! Congratulations on all your successes, and good luck with future ones!

@drxgonstone: It’s been a pleasure knowing you. I’ll never forget that one of the first things we talked about was how beautiful your account is (back when it was ohkylorens). And I honestly hate that I’m having to leave now, just when it’s all decked up in some of my new favorite things, Game of Thrones and JONAERYS. Dearly love ya, friend. Thank you.

@nightsofllyn! Words can’t express the level of respect and gratitude I feel for you. I absolutely adore Blue Milkshake, like you have no friggin idea, and I wish you all the best in continuing it. To be fair, I wish you the best in everything. You deserve it. Thank you for putting up with the ridiculous level of my fangirling. Love ya!

@wishfulfanficing and @missaliarman: First off, you’re so lovely to me, and I love that you’re a Leia fan. Second, my dear, I’m going to send you the Carrie mall fanfic when I’m done with it. Thank you so much for your email address; I look forward to keeping in contact off of this haunted hill. I LOVE YOU dearly.

@lenina-phasma: You’ll be hearing from me very soon, friendly friend. We did exchange emails. I’m not going to disappear. THANK YOU for your support. I’ll help you with Come Blow Your Horn anytime you need a nudge. I’m looking forward to The Sorceress and the Skeptic, too, cher. Mucho love.

@pinkyhuxy: SO MUCH PINK. Thank you for your contributions to the Kylux and Pink!Hux fandom. You’re a gem!

@chacharger: Like I don’t even know. I feel like such a complete creep for walking away from this place after you gave me the Carry On confession blog. I’m sorry for that, and I just wanted to say thank you again for giving me the opportunity to try to work on it. I hope everything goes well for you. <3

@darthastris: You’ve been so good to me in my time on this site, as well as on Twitter. I’m sorry that everything happened so suddenly. It’s going to take some time but I’m going to get back up on my feet eventually and move forward. I’m so grateful for your presence in my life, and I’m glad that I’ll still be able to communicate with you once I take my leave of this little corner of the “world.”

@bpdhux and @endoglenic: I have no words for the gratitude I feel toward both of you, for sticking by me as I go through a lot of changes all at once. I’m happy we get to continue talking over email; I think that makes this a lot easier.

@solohux: Little Lottie, darling, I’ve truly adored every interaction we have had since we became friends here. I will deeply, utterly miss you. We have had a lovely few months together, haven’t we? I’ll email back and forth with you if you want, just check out my addy in the bottom of this post! I will always think of you whenever I see foxes. I love you, friend. Hang in there. You can do this.

@imperatrixxx: I want to let you know I have a GREAT deal of respect for your mission of helping kitties. I’ll never forget our journey together to help rescue Millicent and get her adopted. Thank you for reaching out after I had to let go of baby Asus back several months ago. May your streets be paved with scratching posts and your home filled with as many kitties as your heart can handle.

@strawhat-giraffe: AAAAHHHH! Hey, so I know we didn’t get to know each other very long before I freaked and ditched this joint, but I wanted to say I LOVE that you’re a voice actor too, and if you’ll email me (bottom of the post) I’ll send you my voiceover work in an audio file! OODLES of love and light to ya, friend!

@fanbows: You’re truly my favorite Rainbow Rowell blogger! Thank you for your contribution to the RR fanbase! You deserve so much good in return for the good you do. I think everyone deserves a pot of gold like you at the end of their rainbow. (I am a cheese, so what? Ha! Sorry not sorry ^^)

@yofriesenburg: Now, one of the reasons I joined Tumblr again was because of Snowbaz. You, friend, are probably my favorite EVER Snowbaz artist. I hope everyone everywhere gets to see your art, CO or otherwise! Thank you.

@ottenebrare: I don’t know if I mentioned this to you on that night when I asked you about your name, but I truly admire you. You have contributed so much to the Kylux fandom, and you have a beautiful soul on top of that, and I don’t know I just really love you. I did get more sleep after I sent that message to you, and all I can tell you is I’m trying as hard as I can in life.

And lastly, @missmendelsohn. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried but I just couldn’t fight anymore and I have to step back and just try to be brave through whatever this nastiness is. Please. Keep “it” safe, and please don’t tell anyone. Thank you for your contribution to Tumblr and to the fam. You’re a good girl. You did nothing wrong. I love you.

Special mentions to other deeply loved and respected favorites that I didn’t necessarily have a whole lot of contact with: @sigalawin @eglantineprice @reylooo @confessuponatime @dearmyblank @thelastmessagereceived @ryanreynoldssource @fuckyeahreynolds @arrivedmad and @ben-mendelsohn-trash.

My email, should any of you wish to remain in contact with me off of here, is [email protected]. Thank you all. May the Force be with you.

R.I.P. Mewlicent’s Domain: July 29, 2016 - August 22, 2017.

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