I’m Back. Bullet Journal. Post Purge. Other Stuff. Update.
Hey guys,
I’m back and switching things up a little, I find it hard to post witchy stuff while in my current situation as I cannot outwardly practice or acquire ingredients due to my current location (secret government facility... or maybe a shitty boarding school...) Because I have not been able to practice as much as I’d like things have degraded to a point where I am going to have to start all over again. So I decided, to start all over again! I am deleting all of my previous posts and most of my reblogs, and going from the beginning.
Also getting into an argument on Tumblr the other night made me realise that actually, despite not having much time. I have a lot to say, so I have decided that I will actually be posting at least three times a week. not necessarily original content always. not necessarily witchy stuff always. but certainly more posting.
So to start this off I decided to make a bullet journal (with a notebook that my girlfriend got me last year). the first page is a mood tracker that I won’t be posting as it is mainly for me to keep myself in check. but the second page I decided I will be sharing with you. Goals are important y’all. or rather, they tell you what is important. Or rather they tell you what you think is important. So I’m now tracking my goals whatever they are in life, however unlike my normality they are, if I want it to happen, it goes here. The page is below, and yes, there is a big black box. can’t have you knowing everything can I? 😉
Tomorrow, you might get some more BuJo stuff, you might get some lyrics, you might get some workout stuff, you might even (if we’re very lucky) get some witchcraft in here! Who knows,
3 months and i could be skinny. consistency. am i going to be the same weight in 3 months, or am i going to be small? the foods i love can and will wait. skinny will not.
I do not know what the future holds. Part of me just wants to see what happens. Part of me wants to delete and say a big "fuck you!" to tumblr and not give them one more number to use as an active blog.
If I ever pull the trigger, I'll say something first.
In the meantime, find me on MeWe and bdsmlr.
It may not be til after Christmas I get my bdsmlr up and running. It doesn't have an app so I'm limited to how/when I have convenience and time to get on.
I'll still be checking in for messages, so feel free to reach out. Just don't be a creep, k??
Thanks for the years of ego stroking and mutual porn love. I couldn't have done it without you all.
Much love,
-Jinks 💋
**ETA** this was supposed to post before the 17th but I exceeded my daily post limit 😂 (whoops). Posting anyway since it still is relevant.
When Cyrus returned to the apartment, he was expecting Beau to be there, pale and worried but alive. But that's not what he came home to. Instead the apartment was silent. Dark. There was no sign of Beau anywhere. Fear immediately seized Cyrus's chest. He ran down the stairs, around to the back of the building, where he'd last seen his cousin the previous night.
He rounded the corner and then froze, stopping dead in his tracks. There was the man he'd murdered, and the bat he'd done the deed with lying beside him. But that's not what made him stop. That's not what caused the blood to drain from his face, nor his heart to cease beating in his chest.
"No, no, no, no, no." He was practically shouting the words now, and he started to run, dropping to his knees beside the still form of his cousin. A bullet had been put through his head. There was a resigned look still on his face, and the blood had dried.
Cyrus reached out, his hands trembling. He couldn't stop the shaking. He looked over Beau's body for signs of life, but there were none. How could there be? He'd been shot in the head and left for dead. Had anyone stopped to care for him? To take him to the hospital? No, of course not.
"No, no. Beau, please. Please, no," he gasped out, finding it hard to breathe. It was like someone had grabbed his chest and was squeezing it so hard he felt like he was dying. He grabbed his cousin then, pulling him into his lap. "No. No." It was all he could say. His fingers ran over Beau's face, his shirt, his hair. He gripped him and shook him. "No! NO!"
He was screaming now, clutching his cousin's dead body to his chest as he allowed the tears to come finally. He wept openly, hunching over the body that had thankfully not begun to smell yet. Rigor mortis had set in, however, and Beau lay stiffly in his arms.
Cyrus wasn't sure when he'd started to rock, but he noticed the movement after a moment. He didn't stop though. He couldn't. He didn't seem to have any control over his body. All he could do was cry and hold what used to be his only living relative. His only family. The only person he knew had wanted him, cared about him. Loved him.
A couple hours passed, but Cyrus barely seemed to notice. He continued to rock and hold Beau's body, not wanting to let him go. A man with a wheelbarrow approached him around noon, apparently gathering bodies to be buried or burned. But as soon as Cyrus heard the footsteps and looked up, he held Beau closer and glowered at the man.
"DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH HIM!" he screamed at the man, and something about the wild look in his bloodshot eyes in his pale face made the man back up immediately, before turning and hurrying away. Cyrus tried to catch his breath, and glancing over at a sound to his right, noticed a dog.
His eyes widened. Could that be the dog from last night? It wasn't even a corgi. Cyrus felt a wave of rage and hatred build up in him, and he picked up his bat, throwing it as hard as he could at the animal.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" he screamed at it. The poor dog yelped as the bat hit its back and ran away with its tail between its legs. Cyrus didn't even feel sorry. It was the dog's fault, wasn't it? It was because of the stupid dog that Beau was dead.
No. His mind whispered. It's your fault. For leaving him alone.
"No. Shut up," he growled, moving to stand then. He picked up Beau's body, staggering a little under the weight. He made his way back into the apartment, heading laboriously up the stairs. He got to the apartment after a little while, setting Beau down as gently as he could on the couch on top of his sheets. He started to wrap the body up then, but he paused before he covered his cousin's face.
His fingers reached out, touching the cold, pale cheek. He gently brushed a curl off Beau's forehead, before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against the cold skin there. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back more tears. He couldn't break down now. He had a job to do.
He finished wrapping up the body, using the last of their duct tape to secure the sheet in place. He then stood, laying him awkwardly in the bed of the small wagon attached to his bike where he put his deliveries if he had a long of them. He'd gotten tired of attaching and reattaching the wagon, so he'd just kept them on there. Beau didn't exactly fit, but it would have to do.
On impulse, he grabbed Beau's skateboard.
Once he'd made his way painstakingly down the stairs with everything, he hopped on his bike and started pedaling toward the lake. Beau had liked it there, he remembered. It was the best place for a burial. He didn't want him to be placed in the cemetery with the rest of the citizens. Beau deserved something more special than that.
After making a quick stop at Rosie's, he found the perfect place near the lake behind a large boulder. Nobody would go there unless they were hiding from someone. Cyrus didn't want it to be disturbed too much. He didn't have a shovel, so he ended up using the skateboard, digging a sizable hole. When he figured Beau would fit, he lifted him out of the wagon and lowered him carefully into the hole.
He placed the skateboard in with the body before hesitating. That was the only thing of Beau's he really had anymore. He lifted the skateboard out and instead took off his watch. The battery had run down weeks ago, but he still wore it for sentimentality's sake. His mother had given it to him. But now he laid it gently on Beau's body. Afterwards, he filled in the hole.
When he was done, he was exhausted and covered in dirt and sweat. But he couldn't stop now. He needed to make sure Beau's final resting place would never be disturbed. So he searched around the lakes for sizable rocks and built up a small mound of them on top of the grave. He then placed the flowers he'd stolen from Rosie's in and around the rocks, placing them in every nook and crevice until it was covered in the flowers. That was fitting.
Tired and worn out, he collapsed beside his masterpiece, leaning against the large boulder, drawing the skateboard onto his lap. He felt the shrine needed one more thing though, so he got out his pocket knife and began carving into the tree that stood directly beside the grave. Beau was nestled between the boulder and the tree, but Cyrus figured a tree truck would be easier to carve into.
Once he was done, his arm hurt, but he was satisfied with the result.
Rest In Peace
Beau Mercer
Brother, Friend
He wasn't sure what to do next. He didn't want to go back into town. He didn't want to leave Beau, safe though he was under the small pile of rocks and flowers. So instead, Cyrus curled up in front of the grave, hugging the skateboard to his chest. The hours past, but he didn't move. He couldn't. He couldn't do anything but lay there, staring into nothing, wondering what would happen to him now and how was he supposed to go on without the one thing in his life that had kept him going?
