#grcndpa

[markswcman-blog]

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hi there and welcome to my blog!

my names jade english and im currently greeting all of you while these hyperactive whiny babies freak out over this thing that i did even though im pretty sure i know my mother well enough that she wouldnt risk anything too dreadful like what theyre thinking but ANYWAY

whats up?

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==> Jade: Try and figure out how you could     have been evicted in the first place.

You bite on your thumb nail while you     look down at your paperwork, headphones on     as your coworkers talk about--about something--     about gas prices being high and minimum wage     going up, about how those two things correlated.     You hardly cared about that at the moment--in     fact, if you could, you would leave the Skype call     and focus solely on the other, bigger issues in your     life. Specifically, the eviction notice, your grand-     father and easing his worries, taking care of your-     self, attempting to not gather attention to yourself     with how silent you’re being. This doesn’t seem to     bode well with the universe.

“Jade?”

You look up from the red and pink piece     of paper, still nibbling on your nail. You make a sound     of confusion and well hidden fear as the talking     hesitantly slows, as if your name hadn’t been spoken.     You stop biting your nail to turn and look behind you,     taking out an earbud, frowning slightly. You heard it     clear as day--it was Rose’s voice. The Rose who had     to be reminded of middle school years you never went     through to know who you are. The Rose who forgot     everything, along with mostly everyone else. The Rose     who is just an imposer of your best friend. You shake     your head and put your earbud back in, dismissing it as     another trick of your mind, another hallucination, making     you think, once more, if the doctors are right, and you are     just crazy, and the Game wasn’t real. When you do this,     there’s a pain in your chest and you cringe, gently hitting     your chest with a fist. Your coworkers stop talking again,     and look at your from their places across the country.

“Miss Harley? Are you alright...?” One of     them, the heir to the company asks, fear in his eyes,     concern in his tone. You let out a cough and nod, smiling     in a manner to reassure them. But, it’s at this exact moment     that everything hits you at once. All the calculations you     missed, all the numbers, they all dig into your skin and make     memories resurface that causes the entire call to turn into     something akin to a help-line. Except you’re not listening.     You’re too busy losing it again. “M--Miss Harley, could you     speak to us? Is everything alright? Are you having another     breakdown? Do we need to call 911?” An accent--Middle     Eastern?--slips into his words, but, again, every word, every     syllable is a mere buzz against your skull, irritating and grating.

You feel the tears against your cheeks, but you     don’t have much control over your actions. Your body begins     to shake and your hands quiver as you look at them. Your     coworkers’ voices are raising in volume, from fear, from concern,     from uncertainty on what to do, but you still don’t hear them. You     only hear the screams of your friends, of those dying, of Dave, of      Kanaya, of Aradia’s last dying breaths, as you were the last to     fall--the one cursed with the most to remember. All of it.     Every single moment, every single battle, every single relationship,     every single argument, EVERYTHING--it was all inside your     head. Your own thoughts make you snap and you let out a garbled     sob--no, not even. It’s more a cry of pain than a sob, and you shut     your computer in inhumane haste, knocking almost everything over     as you grip at your head and scream. Loud.

==> Days without incident: 267 0

You open your eyes, in the middle of a panic attack, in     the middle of suffering from hysteria, in the middle of struggling     against restraints as you scream, scream, scream, about a game     that killed everyone, how it was real, how everyone just didn’t     remember, and then more unintelligible screaming.

You’re beginning to question your own sanity.

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grcndpa replied to your post

Is everything alright? i might be a little clueless, but i can tell when my little jade isnt well!!

im just... a bit burned out dont worry grandpa! im really alright!! i think your parenting sensors are more in sync with little me right now

i couldnt be more alright! :)

im just taking a little rest is all

[spacebouquets-blog]

⋮★⋮❛ grcndpa ❜

            ❛ Bec! Bad boy; give me my hat back! ❜

        A full white Samoyed puppy gives a muffled bark in return to the playful scolding from the lady who laughs as she walks up to the person who Becquerel II who had gone to hide behind in the park. Her lips parted to speak in apology, but her eyes graced very familiar features and she PAUSED, for the merest of moments. There’s a brief moment of fear in her eyes, but it’s gone, quicker than the moment had came and she kneels down to pick up the obviously happy dog, taking the hat gently from his mouth and placing it on her head again. 

            ❛ I’m so sorry about Bec; he likes to play                 around and get strangers involved. ... I’m                 Jade, by the way. Jade Harley! You are? ❜