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I don't know if it's the weather or if it's all the weird ass blue crystals around this hellhole of a small town, but my bones hurt and everything is too loud and I feel like I just want to crawl out of my skin.
Is punching the moon an option? I know it's not gonna solve anything but if I could I think I would feel better about existence.
Whoever fucking mauled me at the corner store, you need help. Medical help. Immediately. See a doctor. Call a nurse. Something, Jesus CHRI
Keeping in mind that school's barely started, and this is an especially delicate time in the life of a class, nevermind an art class - would you consider four rabies shots and twenty eight stitches a valid reason to book a solid week off? Because that's what the surgeon recommended. And I think that's fucking ridiculous. A whole week?? With a substitute??? God, the office would absolutely call Mr. Chase, too. Can't believe that musty old bastard STILL hasn't retired??? Now???? When I'm four shots ahead on not having rabi That's not school safe.
If you don't take a week off at minimum, I'm coming over and fighting you. You need to rest even though sitting still fucking sucks. And I'll tell Maureen. I'm scary, but Maureen will fill your house with so much food you won't be able to escape.
[...]
[pm] Are you Are What ha Was it You don't have to talk about what happened, but if you want to, I'm all ears.
[pm] [user didn't have anything specific in mind when suggesting but] First thought was the amusement park? Blow some money on dumb rigged games, go on some rides which give you an acceptable reason to scream at the top of your lungs, and eat garbage? I need to get out of my head and not be an adult for a few hours.
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In check like her antiquing habit. Or how she'd steal cutlery from restaurants. And glasses. Or that just about pathological capacity for lying.
[PM] Utterly, absolutely cursed, for sure. Haunting. An affront to God, aesthetic sensibilities, and all the taxidermy manuals she said she referenced. Consider it yours, wherever it is. So things between you and your mom, they're good? Your sister was sa She'll hate it.
You'd be saving my life. Or what's left of my structural integrity, at least. Please. Thank you.
Yeah. Yeah, I don't know if I know, add it to the list, but I might. And I have no idea what I'm going to do, besides cook everything left in the house, binge something entirely mindless, and go through all this potentially biohazardous crap I've got down out of the attic so far. Are you hungry, at all? The cooking's already started. You could take soup for Maureen. Just throwing it out there. For a better day. Or a day. Doesn't have to be better. That's its own kind of tiring, isn't it? People waiting on you to be better enough for whatever. Including you. Anytime you want out, a little. Do you figure moving home is always some special kind of hell, or does Wicked's Rest just do the whole "home" thing differently?Â
[pm] Perfect. I'll name him Bartholomew. It can be the official room guard. And Maureen will despise him.
Of course- I get what it feels like to have a body that utterly betrays you. Hopefully, we find you someone who can fix up your back and then you're good as new in no time.
Do you actually want to hang out or do you just feel bad please be the former I'm always hungry. I could either bring soup to Maureen as payment for her soup, or I could bring my truck, eat some soup, help you get some of the potential biohazard in the attic under control and loaded into boxes and binge something mindless...? I know my one hand is shit but Many hands and all that...
I think Wicked's Rest brings some extra special hellishness to the whole ordeal.
[pm] We could also do something non-vandalism related, if you'd like? I don't know about you, but I could stand to do something dumb and fun these days.
Do leave antique nails scattered around your cellar, though. Just in case they get thirsty while passing through the neighborhood. Willa always insisted. Which is how I wound up getting my first tetanus booster years early! But her beer was safe from leprechauns.
[PM] Oh, no, don't say that. Not until you've seen what's in there. It could be the wolpertinger mount. With the very, very bad eyes. If you could call my grandmother sweet, which, in theory, you could, there'd need to be some fine print specifying that your individual experience may vary wildly and before being exposed you need to read the medical disclaimer. She didn't take anything seriously besides her own bullshit, embraced "spontaneity" to an absolutely maddening degree, was wickedly funny, would stand the hell up for anyone unless she was the one bullying them, ("lovingly," "for their own good," of course), was self-consciously eccentric, and didn't give a damn what anyone thought and I wish I'd inherited at least a little of that last one. And I wish she was here, too. She was certainly something.
Really? Fine. Considering! Missing my chiropractor. So badly. How are you doing? Really?
Willa had her priorities in check: no beer-thieving leprechauns were gonna bother her. But the tetanus booster... woof.
[pm] When you say bad eyes... do you mean too real? Or do you mean just utterly, absolutely cursed and you should put sunglasses on it so you don't have to look at it staring at you? Because if it's the latter, I really hope it is in there. Maureen will never come into my room again.
There's gotta be someone around this shitshow of a town who's a chiropractor. I can ask around. I'm sure my old PT knows someone.
I am doing terribly thank you for asking. I'm doing. Shit hurts, and I am here and not there. Ya know? Some days are better than others. Some days are worse. Whatcha gonna do.
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Timing: August 1st, Early Evening
Location: The Kier Household in Oldtown
Summary: Jo does not know what is wrong with her.
Warnings: Mentions of Werewolfy, Chronic Pain.
Something was wrong.Â
Jo had felt off for days, her stomach twisting, her mind reeling, and feeling altogether like she was ready to crawl out of her skin. It wasnât the first time that sheâd felt like this since the accident. In the months that followed her release from Wickedâs Rest General Hospital, she had felt herself growing more and more prickly. Worse than a porcupine, her mother had joked. It had taken all of Joâs strength not to snarl something back that sheâd regret. Something cruel that the young woman she had been once upon a time wouldnât have dared to say in a million years. Just trying to help, just trying to help, sheâs your mom, sheâs just trying to helpâŚÂ
The bedroom above the garage- her bedroom- had become her self-enforced prison on those days when her mood seemed to be at the height of terribleness. If she'd bothered to look at a calendar, the days she felt most beastly mapped out precisely to every 29.5 days or so, when the moon was growing to its largest. On those days, every word that left her mouth was more of a snarl. Every inch of her body felt as if it was ripping itself apart from the inside, and there was nothing that she could do but wait it out.
Medically, Johanna could think of no explanation. The symptoms didnât add up to anything logical.
Footsteps crept up the stairs. Maureen. Jo had never really heard her motherâs footsteps before- it wasnât like sheâd ever had cause to before. But now it felt like she heard too much all of the time. Even feet bouncing fleetly up old steps and towards her door was enough to make her clench her jaw and bury her face in her pillow.Â
âJohanna? Sweetie, are you in there?â
No, Iâm not here, obviously, Iâm not here, Iâve run away and gone to Creature Comforts to go work as a dancer who limps-Â
âYeah,â The young woman sighed heavily into the pillow. She almost didnât recognize her own voice with how raw and ragged it sounded. Be nice. âWhatâs up?âÂ
Her mother made no attempt to open the door or come inside. Like she was scared of what she would find on the other side of the door. Like she doesnât want to see you as you are⌠Jo willed the voice in the back of her head to shut the fuck up, please as her motherâs voice warbled from the other side of the door once again. âWe have company coming over, The Mannings from down the street- you remember them,â Maureen began, and Johanna could already tell what was coming next. âAnd it would be very nice if you would come down and join us rather than sitting up here alone. You canât hide forever, JohannaâŚâÂ
Hide.Â
Jo clenched her jaw. She knew her mother meant well⌠but Johanna could feel that ache and burn tearing her up from within slowly turn to venom that rose into her mouth, all but daring her to snap. Her fingernails dug little welts into her palm. Be nice⌠âActually, I have plans.â A lie. A blatant lie. Jo had no plans for that evening other than sitting in the dark of her bedroom and willing the pain to go away. âIâm meeting up with some old friends from high school⌠Weâre going Downtown. So Iâll be out.â Such a liar⌠When had she gotten good at that?Â
She couldnât tell if the silence she was met with on the other side of the door was one of relief or disappointment. But when she spoke, Maureen had painted on her typical cheery tone. She prattled on about how good it was that she was seeing friends again while Jo slowly sank back into the pillow, offering an Mhmm every now and again to make believe she was listening. The fire that was burning in her veins was still there, still roaring awayâŚ
All she could do was close her eyes and pray that whatever was wrong with her would go away soon.
Since when are people going around eating shamrocks. Some leprechaun is gonna get pissed.
And pissing off leprechauns sounds like a spectacularly bad idea. Should probably just leave the shamrocks alone. As a rule. Undisturbed. Thriving. Etc.
[PM] Thanks again for the soup, Jo. I did find those boxes Willa put together for your family, so - I can bring those by with the tupperware? If you think anybody over there would even want to look all of this over. Nevermind keep anything. You don't have to. Zero obligation. Obviously!
Never fuck with a leprechaun. Don't steal their gold, don't touch a shamrock, do not go hunting for the end of the rainbow.
[pm] No problem. Maureen would have been passive-aggressive if I didn't I'll look through it- still can't believe Willa put together boxes for us... sweet of her.
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I'll look it up. I remember the place ya talkin' about. Place has been there as long as I can remember but I thought it got repurposed int' somethin' else. [...] Ya been in town ya whole life or returnin'?
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