Long authors note at the end. You don't have to read it, other than what's capitalized.
Wednesday, March 22, 1995
Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2
When Eden awoke, it was to hot, moist air, puffing in regular bursts, on her face.
She turned her head away in an attempt to get rid of it, and while that did help some, her efforts were rewarded with a heavy weight that settled on her stomach. She finally opened her eyes, and screamed when she saw the rows—there were only two, but in her mind, there were six—of sharp teeth that dripped with clear drool.
She pushed at the large creature as a scream tore out of her throat, and her magic reacted as it tore partially from the strong restraints that she had it Locked away in, and the creature started to float above her bed as her mind flashed back to nightmares she once had long ago.
Memories and dreams of pain, Light—bright evil deadly painful—magic, fire, and—help someone sorry stop—
"Eden, sweetie, calm down. It's just me." The creature was gone, and Sirius was crouched over her huddled form as he held her head in his large, calloused hands. "You're okay. You're okay, sweetie." His gray eyes, while not as potent in the area of calming as Tom's was, were still comforting. "The Rothound can't hurt you. It's not real. Shh." He pulled her curled form into his chest and started to run his fingers through her unbound hair—why her magic always saw fit to unbind her hair was beyond her.
In the arms of her godfather, she quickly calmed. After a moment of steady breathing in his comforting embrace, she snorted in a self-deprecating manner. "I haven't dreamt of the Rothound since I was nine," she commented idly.
Her tone made it clear that she was disappointed in herself for the panic attack.
The Rothound—at one point in time called the Boogey-Hound until she drew a picture of it for Aunt Mariea when she was six—had become very real to her when Sirius had done something similar to her when she was five years old.
He had wanted to prank her and Harry, and while her brother had found it amusing, and quite possibly the most awesome thing that could happen to anyone, she had been tortured by nightmares.
When she was younger, she regretted that her fear had altered the experience for her twin, but he never once blamed her—in fact, if she started to blame herself, he'd throw one of their toys at her, and if that didn't work, would continue to throw them until she stopped, and if that didn't work, he'd tackle her and sit on her until she stopped.
Now that she was older, and was more than quite aware that the creature was just a figment of her imagination, she sometimes thought that it might have been one of the many Curses her mother had placed on her, as they had started shortly after she had started being abused.
Up until she had started to visit Tom in her dreams, she had had horrific nightmares every night. It was nice to have a reprieve during the school year, as she now only had them when she didn't visit Tom when she slept.
Sirius laughed softly, and ran a guilty hand through her hair before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he murmured before he pulled her into his lap.
She nuzzled his neck, much like a dog would. "It's okay. It's always good to get your heart pumping. But, Siri, what are you doing here?"
He sobered quickly, as he was reminded of the reason for his visit. The two separated, and he looked at her with an intense look in his eyes while she leaned back against the dark oak headboard. "I heard some things at the Ministry yesterday when I was at a Very Boring Session, and while I don't know if it's true what I heard, I thought you ought to know."
She sat up and stared at him as her heart began to pound hopefully in her chest. "What did you hear? Am I finally getting away from James and Lily?"
He frowned. "No, we're still trying. I don't know how, but your parents somehow have your custody locked down. It doesn't seem to matter that the entire upper crust of Pureblood Society is trying to get you away from them. The proof that you were abused as a child doesn't seem to matter either. The Ministry and most of the Light type families refuse to budge on who your guardians are, and who you can live with." Despair filled her soul at the realization that she actually wouldn't be free that summer. "What I heard was something about the Third Task."
She was grateful that she had many contacts in the Ministry, even if they couldn't really find out much, it was still nice to hear whatever they did happen to find.
"Do you know what I'll be doing?" None of her other contacts had been able to figure it out, but then again, none of her other contacts was a Marauder.
He shook his head. "No, all I know is that you're going to be going up directly against the other competitors and other things that are quite possibly going to be creatures. It was a very muddled conversation, and Lucy and I were talking at the same time, while we were trying to listen, and I wish I was paying more attention, but—anyways, that's not the point. I'm here because I'm going to train you."
"Train me?" she asked with a lifted brow a smirk that pulled at her lips. Tom was going to laugh his face off when she told him that her Light Core type godfather wanted to train her.
"Yes."
She was going to laugh her face off if he continued to offer. "I'm doing just fine, Paddy. I don't need any more magical help—"
He laughed loudly. "Sweetie, I'm not going to train you in Magic. I'm a Light type Core. You're a Pure Dark Core. There is absolutely nothing that I could teach you that would be helpful to you in that aspect due to how different the two are—"
"They actually aren't that different," she cut in.
He flicked her nose, and she bit him. "They're different enough that I can't teach you Light Casting concepts that would easily transfer over to Dark Casting. I'm going to teach you how to fight hand-to-hand."
She lifted a brow, more than slightly skeptical, and still on the verge of laughter. "Like muggles?"
He eagerly nodded. "Exactly like muggles. You see, it's not normal for a witch or wizard to know how to fight like a muggle, so it's completely unexpected, and automatically gives you the upper hand in a close-combat fight. If you're not too fond of hand-to-hand, we could get you a Bo staff, and Mariea can train you in Modern Battle Magic."
She had always wanted to learn Battle Magic—be it Ancient or Modern—due to her godmother who was a Battle Dueler, and traveled the world Dueling and teaching Battle Magic.
She slightly shook her head. "Okay, but, how do you know how to fight hand-to-hand?"
"My father was absolutely fanatic about it. He insisted that Regulus and I knew how to fight that way. He taught us himself. Those lessons were probably the only good things that he taught me. That, and how to treat my wife, but that was just watching him, and mother interact before she went a little—" He whistles and twirled his finger next to his head as he rolled his eyes.
"Wait. Wait just a bloody damn minute. Orion Arcturus Black . . . your father . . . Pureblood supremacy maniac . . . taught you how to fight . . . like a muggle . . . himself?"
"Yes, yes, shocking I know," he said in a haughty tone as he threw the back of his hand over his forehead and pretended to swoon. She giggled softly before she fell back into shock.
Honestly, she felt like she was going to swoon.
"I think the world has just come to an end," she murmured with wide eyes. She thought of the sixteen-year-old Knight that she knew. What had happened between his sixth year at Hogwarts, and having Sirius . . . for him to teach hand-to-hand combat?
"So, when to you want to do it?"
"Um . . . I get up at five every morning except for Saturdays, so we could do it then. I get up between 8:30 and 9 on Saturdays. We could do some now, in fact."
Her godfather grinned, and for a moment—one teeny tiny itty-bitty moment—she feared for both her life, and her sanity.
Room of Requirement
"Alright, let's get started!"
Eden had been in the Room of Requirement many times in her years at Hogwarts—both with, and without Tom. This was quite possibly the first time that she had seen it do something that she had never even thought possible before.
The Room, always large, seemed much larger than ever before—and yes, that was including the Room of Hidden Things (but that room was also filled with junk—wait . . . did it have sparkles?)—and it had many, many, many things that she had never seen before.
The floor was covered in a stiff, thick padding, the walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors—holy Merlin those mirrors were humungous—and on the far wall in the corner was a rack of six and a half feet long—tall?—staffs that all seemed to have different Magical properties—one was covered in thorns, and she wondered how one would wield it without impaling themselves.
Merlin . . . Padfoot really was serious—haha—about the Modern Battle Magic thing.
"Alright, pup. Are you ready?"
She was in her usual workout clothes, only he had forced a too-large conjured t-shirt over her head, and it currently fell off of her left shoulder in baggy waves. Every few minutes, he would reach out and adjust it, only to have it almost immediately start to fall off of the other shoulder.
She wondered when he would just give up.
She tilted her head to the side and nodded. "As I'll ever be."
"Okay, great. The first thing that you need to know is your stance. You always want to make sure that your weight is centered so you can easily go side to side, and back and forth." She spread her legs and bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times before she nodded her head and fell flat.
As her godfather reached out towards her with his large hands, she briefly wondered if she should remove the sticking charms on her feet. By the time that the thought had processed though, she was already falling backwards. She bent her back, and caught herself in a table-top stretch.
"What the hell was that for?" she demanded from her position—note to self, when training with Padfoot, remove the sticking charms.
"You know . . . I was just expecting you to stumble, not actually fall," he muttered softly under his breath. "Oh well. I was showing you that your stance was wrong." Hands were on her waist as he quickly helped her stand.
"How was my stance wrong? I was centered, wasn't I?"
He inclined his head. "You were. But, because your feet were even with each other, you had less control over your balance. What you want and need to do, is to have your left foot slightly forward. Good, now when I push you—" She rocked back slightly, but didn't fall. "—you're more likely to stay standing up."
He pushed her again, and she giggled as she rocked once more. "That tickles."
He stared at her fondly before a small laugh left his lips. "I guess it does kind of tickle." He pushed her around from a few more different directions. "Do you see how much difference the right stance can make?"
She started to feel like that wiggle-head figurine he had permanently stuck to Lucius' desk a couple of years ago; (later, when she'll say as much, he'll fondly remind her that it's called a bobble-head, not a wiggle-head).
She nodded, and just for Funsies, decided to push him.
He didn't even sway. She pouted. "That's not fair," she whined.
"I'm bigger than you are, pup. Now, I want to get something into your head before we go any further, alright?" She nodded. "While I know this probably won't come in handy in a real duel, it will if you ever happen to be in close combat—Magical or not—or in the muggle world."
She wiped the smile off of her face. "Alright. What is it?"
"If you ever fall on the ground, you're dead. It's as simple as that. In a duel, if you're on the ground, it probably means that you—specifically you—were stunned. In close combat, it means that they got you on the ground and now you're defenseless—especially in the muggle world if you don't want to break the Statute. Now, I'm not going to be leaving you defenseless, I'm going to teach you some things with Mariea's help if you ever do get on the ground, but for today, you're on the ground: you're dead."
She nodded firmly. "Got it. On the ground is equivalent to an AK to the face."
He snorted and inclined his head. "Get back into position, pup." She quickly did as commanded. "You always want to keep your front foot towards the person that you're fighting. Let's say I move over here, what does your—good. Your entire body turns. If I move over here, good. Good, pup." He carefully stepped around her in a circle, and she always kept him in sight.
Until he reached out and pushed her while he stepped to the side while she turned towards him.
"Siri! What was that for?" she demanded from where she sat with her feet flat on the ground and her butt aching. She quickly stood and pushed at him, and again, it was like hitting a brick wall.
"You never want to take big steps. If you take big steps, you're no longer centered. Take small steps, and keep your weight on the balls of your feet. When you're around school, practice staying on them. You'll probably be wobbly for a couple of days, but with how fast you learn, I'm sure you'll get it fairly quickly. Now, let's try this again, with small steps."
He made three circles around her, with her constantly facing him, and him occasionally reaching out to push her as she took a step. She never fell fully on the ground again, but she did sway a few times, and eve stumbled once before she placed a balancing charm on her ankle so she could stay upright.
"Good job, pup. Now, I want you to hit me."
A delicate brow rose as a soft snort of incredulity filled the large room. "Like, punch you?"
He eagerly nodded his head—his long hair was immediately, and impatiently swept away from his face—and fell into some sort of position with a serious look on his face. She balled her hands into small fists, pulled her right hand back, and hit him for all she was worth.
She immediately regretted it.
A loud pop, accompanied by fiery white-hot pain that raced up her hand and into her elbow and then her shoulder, echoed in the room. "What the bloody hell are you made of?" she demanded as she cradled her hand against her chest. "Stone? Metal? Pure pain?"
He alternated between laughing his face off every few seconds, and looking at her in concern. She flicked her left hand, and he quickly sobered up after five shocking hexes hit him in the face and chest. "Thank you, pup. I needed that. To answer your questions, I'm made of the exact same stuff that you are. You just punched me wrong," he began to snicker, and quickly sobered with another hex to the nose, "let me see your hand."
She extended her loosely clenched hand, and he cast a couple of Gray healing spells, and more fire accompanied a painful snap. The room brought forth a Dark bone-healing potion, and a Dark pain-relief potion, and she took both—unlike Light healing potions, they tasted fairly pleasant (like something between citrus and ozone).
"If you want to constantly break your hand, I suggest you keep punching like that, pup. However, if you don't want to break your hand punching again, might I suggest punching like this?" She copied his hands, and balled her fists so her thumbs weren't tucked, and when she went to punch him again, it didn't hurt as much—the only reason it hurt was because she had just broken it. "Good job, pup," he praised proudly.
She nodded her head before her left brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her. "So . . . I'm just supposed to punch people and hope for the best?"
He barked out a laugh, and shook his head before he went on to show her how to duck, block, and counter punches. They continued to spar in slow motion—they had slowly sped up, but were still no where near actual full speed—when the clock in the Room chimed eight.
She exchanged a wide-eyed looked with her godfather. "I'm late for class."
"No, it's breakfast."
"I have to shower and get dressed. By the time I finish looking human again, I'm going to be late for class."
"Well, what are you doing just standing there gaping like a fish? Go!"
She sent a flipping hex at him, and ran.
Thursday, March 22, 1945
Head Dorms
"Punch me."
Tom looked up from his tie, and stared at his Eden in concern. "Pardon?"
Surely, he had heard her wrong. They were not heathens—despite what the Christians liked to say.
"Punch me."
Alright. He didn't mishear her. "Why?"
She grinned, and his heart stuttered harshly in his chest. "Because Padfoot is teaching me self-defense, and I want to practice with you. So, punch me."
He felt like laughing as he stared at her with his mouth slightly opened. "What if I don't want to punch you?" His tie was long forgotten as he turned to face her fully.
"Do you love me?"
What—how dare she—
"Of course, I do," he answered instantly.
"Then punch me."
He should have seen that coming.
|}(){|
Thirty minutes later, Eden had come to the definitive conclusion that teaching Tom was not nearly as easy, nor as smooth sailing as being taught by Tom.
It was no wonder that the man taught himself.
"Tom!" she whined, "take this seriously!"
She bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading at the delightful expression that crossed his face. He sighed and tugged on the collar of his shirt while he looked up at the ceiling before he looked back at her.
She wondered for a brief moment if she should be worried about the light in his eyes before he spoke and erased all doubts from her mind.
She shouldn't have been so foolish.
"So, I'm just supposed to slap your hand away, right?" As he spoke, he waved his right hand in front of his face as if he had smelt something bad.
She nodded her head. "Yes." She pulled her right hand back and surged forward and aimed for his face. Instead of swiping her hand away like he was supposed to, he grabbed it with both of his, and pressed a soft kiss to her bruised knuckles while looking her in the eyes.
She completely ignored the way his magic healed them.
"Tom!" she whined as her face flushed, Sebastian flew, and her heart started to pound rapidly in her chest, "you said you'd help me!"
He smirked, winked at her, and pressed a few more kisses to her knuckles before he yanked on her arm, turned her around, and pinned her back to his chest. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, and the left snaked across her stomach and held her right hip possessively. "I am," he murmured lowly into her left ear. He took the lobe between his teeth and bit down softly. "Get out of my grasp." He sucked for a moment, before he dropped his lips to the skin just below her ear, and began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses there.
She weakly struggled in his arms and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, before she forced them forward as her eyelids flickered. The tip of his tongue brushed against her skin, and her knees weakened slightly. She mentally shook her head, and jerked in his grasp. He smirked against the skin of her neck before he licked it again. The arm around her shoulders slowly rose until the crook of his elbow rested against the column of her throat.
Her eyes flickered once more as she lifted her hands and pulled at his arm. He tightened his hold until breathing became slightly difficult. She pulled again, and groaned when that did nothing. He completely misread the sound, and bit down lightly before he returned to sucking.
While she weakly struggled in his grasp, he pulled away from her neck, and pressed a line of kisses against the top of her head before he latched onto the skin beneath the corner of her jaw on her right side. A soft moan involuntarily left her lips, and she turned to complete putty as he bit, licked, sucked, and kissed the skin harshly.
It was just on the edge of too much.
It was just to the point of too painful.
It was way passed the point of too distracting.
"Tom," she moaned softly as fire threatened to turn her into an incoherent husk. "Let me go."
He grinned against her before he shook his head softly, moaned—more like growled—before he bit down hard. A gasp left her lips before it turned into a soft moan when he licked the icy ache, and soothed the pain with fire. He repeated the action multiple more times, and the conflicting sensations, and the fire in her blood continually grew, until it became too much.
He pulled away, and her veins were filled with a painful and burning icy flush.
"Shit, Eden. I am so sorry."
She lifted a hand to her neck, and felt a sticky warmth. She pulled her hand away, and stared at the thick blood on her hand. Without thinking or pausing to consider her actions, she turned around and punched Tom's face just like Sirius had taught her to. Her fist made contact with his nose, and she covered her mouth as he groaned and covered it.
Amusement and horror filled her with a fiery burn. "I'm so sorry!" she cried. He bent at the waist and laughter started to shake his body. She stepped closer to him, and bent over slightly. "Are you ok—" She stopped speaking when he straightened and hit her own nose with his head.
She fell to the ground and clutched at her broken nose as thick blood oozed out of it, and curled into a fetal position.
Tom laughed and knelt down next to her head. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," she commented after he healed her nose and cleaned her face.
He grinned and lovingly pecked her lips. "Nonsense. I'd much rather have you practice with me, than have you practice with Dragon. Now, how about we start again?"
"No more biting me," she muttered as she stood. Nibbling was fine. Same with nipping. Both were actually fairly pleasant.
Biting was now a Big No-No.
She stumbled slightly, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as he steadied her. He bent down and licked the still bleeding wound on her neck, and his magic healed it. His tongue drug lightly up to her ear, and he gently bit the lobe, and her breath caught.
He smirked.
"My darling, my love . . . haven't you noticed?" He sucked on her lobe before he moved to the place where her neck and shoulder met and bit down hard. A soft moan left her lips, and her knees collapsed, and he was forced to support her entire weight. He laughed and held her close and licked the ache before he nipped it a few more times. "Biting's the best part," he finished.
He pulled away, and stared into her eyes, and she began to wonder if Draco would kill her if she started to wake him up at five in the morning to practice with her.
Merlin knew it would be far more effective than whatever Tom had in mind.
Her eyes narrowed. "Either let me go so we can practice, or kiss me until I can't see straight, and then we practice," she hissed.
"My pleasure," he growled just before his lips descended onto hers.
Monday, March 27, 1995
Room of Requirement
That was the Last. Damned. Straw.
The heavy door to the Room slammed shut behind her, and before Sirius could do anything, unBound her unLocked magic. "Is everything alright?" he hesitantly asked once more magic was reBound once more and nestled close to the small, chained sphere next to her Core.
"No. You're going to teach me how to get out of someone's grip."
He lifted a brow as a reluctant smiled tugged at his lips. "Training partner deciding to pin you? So soon?" He waggled his brows.
If one decided to give another person a hickey every time they started to practice, and thus make practice ineffective, then yes.
"Yes, he's pinning me. Teach me how to destroy him."
Sirius sent a Patronus to Mariea. "Question, how much do you care about his well-being?"
"I love him. I want him to suffer."
Mariea laughed as she stepped into the room from the activated floo in the corner of the room—as far as they were aware, the headmaster wasn't aware of its existence. "Suffering is always a good thing to have in a relationship."
After the three finished training, Eden decided that if Tom and Sirius ever met, the world would crumble to their knees, and an end would come to all who opposed them while she and Mariea watched from the sidelines.
She kind of wanted it to happen.
Tuesday, March 27, 1945
Head Dorms
When Tom reached out with both hands instead of one, Eden expected the kisses to her knuckles, and him yanking her back against his chest.
What he hadn't expected, was for her to immediately get out of his grasp before his lips could latch onto her neck. She turned with a grin that stretched her lips wide, and gazed down upon her love as he clutched at his crotch and bleeding nose while he groaned.
"You lied to me!" he snarled. He pushed himself so he sat, and the air thickened with his magic and the beautiful scent of ozone as he healed himself.
"No, I didn't."
"You said he hadn't taught you anything new!" he growled as he stood.
"No, I didn't. You asked if he had taught me anything that you needed to know."
"You didn't think that I needed to know that you could do that?"
She nearly laughed. He was pouting.
She grinned widely at him. "Nope."
She squealed and jumped to the right as he lunged for her, and kicked her left leg out at him. He caught it before it made contact with him, and held her sock-covered foot in his hands.
"Why the bloody hell not?"
"Because," she started as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "had I told you that I knew how to get out of you pinning me to your chest, you would have done something that I didn't know how to get out of."
He glowered and released her foot. "That's the point, Eden. I don't want you to ever leave me."
She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. He immediately wrapped his own around her, and pulled her even closer—it was almost like he was trying to combine their bodies into one. "I'm never going to willingly leave you, Tom. Besides, whenever I do leave you, I always come back."
He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're right." She preened. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
She laughed softly, and the clock chimed 8:45—it was spelled to do that. "Of course not. I'd have to check you to see if you were an imposter if you did like it."
He rolled his eyes fondly and started shrugging on the rest of his uniform. "Into the trunk, you."
She smiled, tied his tie for him, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and jumped into the ninth compartment.
Tuesday, March 28, 1995
Location Undisclosed
He glared at Barty as he stepped into the room and prostrated himself in front of the Dark Lord. It made him sick.
Granted, it was more of the man's actions at the beginning of the school year that made him sick more than his current actions.
He rolled his eyes and continued to brew.
"Hey —, how's the potion going?"
He looked up at his name and rose a brow at the man. "You wish to speak with me? Willingly?" He glanced to the Dark Lord as a smirk pulled at his lips, and saw that he was amused as well. "My Lord, I think the world has come to an end."
Barty snorted. "Damn you —. I was just trying to make nice with you, and see how everything was going."
He laughed softly. "It's going to be on time, if that's what you're worried about." The man's shoulders relaxed. "Don't worry, Barty, I won't let all of your hard work go to waste."
"Our."
"What?"
"Our hard work. You have just as big of a role in this as I do. It's our hard work."
His heart stuttered in his chest, and he nodded his head. "You're right. I do."
"Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick."
He smiled stiffly. "I'm fine. Just—got lost in my thoughts for a moment."
Barty looked at him with understanding. So, he knew.
Did their Lord know?
No. He was careful. Probably too careful. He hadn't let his daughter's name—any of them—slip. She was safe.
He scoffed.
Who was he kidding? She wasn't safe.
At this point, he didn't think that knowing that Noah Potter was his daughter would change any of the Dark Lord's plans.
Barty patted his shoulder, and let him be.
Hey! So, I hope you guys liked it. Feedback, as always, is more than welcome.
So, this week was abnormally hard for me. It had gotten to the point where on Wednesday I decided that I wasn't going to post this week. I had decided Sunday that I wanted to get the second draft of In My Dreams done before I leave town tomorrow, and so, I sat down, and I tried so hard to do it.
I failed.
For the last six months, almost all I have done is write. And write. And write for 12 hours, every day. I hadn't taken any breaks until about the last month when my family was finally able to get me to take Sunday's off, and well . . . I don't know if you know this, but, Writers Burnout is a thing.
A horrid, awful thing that I wouldn't wish on the author's I hate the most.
It had been building for the last month, and I kept ignoring it, and ignoring it, and ignoring it, until every time I sat down at my computer, I'd just start to cry. It was really hard to be able to even think about Tom or Eden or any of my other stuff that I have in the works. (for those who asked, I have three soulmate fics in the works—my brain refuses to focus on one, so three are being worked on)
Comments didn't make me as happy as they used to, and I wanted to set my computer on fire, and start a bonfire with all of my notebooks that had all of my writing in it, and smash the flash drive that I wear around my neck, because my writing is my life.
After I sat down with my dad, and he explained some things to me, and the writing habits of two authors who I really look up to, I decided that I'd take a break. But, I also felt extremely bad because if I did that, I wouldn't be able to post this week, and the next time that I could guarantee a post is February 1st.
That would have been a month without posting, and that thought killed me.
It wasn't until yesterday that I started to actually feel human again, and I was able to sit down and edit this chapter. I'm sorry if it's not good, or up to the usual quality that I usually write.
As I said earlier, the next GUARANTEED post is February 1st. I'll be out of town this Saturday, and I'd rather spend time with family that I don't get to see often than edit, and then the next week I have my first project for the Competition due. Now, me saying February 1st, doesn't mean that that's when you're getting the update. That's the LATEST the next update will be. I might update right after I get back in town, which will be the 20th, or I might be able to update the same day that I have stuff due which is the 25th. I don't know.
I don't do well with stress, and I really want to avoid another hard crash like I had this week.
I love you guys, and I don't want to abandon you or In My Dreams, I just really need to look after my mental health right now.
Thank you for your continued support, and I'm so grateful to each and everyone of you who have read this far.