#I have an eyeball doctor appointment tomorrow

[dnschmidt]

The Device

Captain Eric and Amy groaned. They had been locked in the dank dungeon for days.

"Let us go!" Eric said.

Doctor Eyeball laughed. "Go? You haven't even begun to suffer! When I set off my doomsday device --"

"A doomsday device?" Amy said. "What's the point?"

Doctor Eyeball frowned, which was difficult considering his head was a giant eye without any eyebrows. "It's a doomsday device! I want to doom the Earth! Why else would I become a super villain?"

"Haven't you watched the news?" she said. "Earth is pretty much doomed already. The climate is collapsing, the banks just keep printing money, my senator is a robot with chainsaws for arms... Your little gadget can't make it any worse."

Doctor Eyeball scratched the chin he didn't have. "Can... can I at least take credit for it?"

"Sure!" Eric said. "Let us go and we'll blame you for everything. The climate, the economy, high-fructose corn syrup, folk music, all of it. You'll be the most hated villain of all time."

Doctor Eyeball unlocked their manacles. "Fight again tomorrow?"

"I've got a dental appointment," Eric said. "Better make it Thursday."

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Day 273 and Serious is in color, now! I also set up Confident and Drunk Bored so the bits that escape the boxes will actually escape the boxes when they get colorized instead of having the box lines covering them :D Lookit me, planning for the future and shit! XD

[clatterbane]

Opthalmology appointment update: They were the busiest I've ever seen on any medical visit here so far, but also perfectly respectful and professional-acting dealing with me there too! Which came as more of a relief than it should have.

They didn't even get to any retinal photography today. But, a quick peek into that one eye in particular was enough to get the doctor wanting to get me booked in for some laser zapping before Christmas Limbo arrives! 🙃

Not escaping it with the other eye for now, as I was sort of hoping since I hadn't noticed any obvious signs of trouble out of that one. Yet. But, she was acting like (repeatedly) Haunted Eyeball needs treatment ASAP--and, once again, pretty appalled that it hadn't been lasered well before this!--which was honestly pretty worrying.

So, I am now booked in for my first laser treatment on that eye next Wednesday. 😰 At the desk, they actually wanted to schedule me back this Thursday (!), but that was a no go with the schedule packed full of medical disruption until I thankfully get a (too brief 🙄) break starting Friday.

Tomorrow morning: Head for Endocrinology again at early o'clock, to get set up with that 24-hour blood pressure monitor. I do totally intend to inform them of the ongoing migraine, from getting plunged back into Pupil Dilation Hell today. But yeah, that should be extra fun all around. Great timing! 😒

The next day: Hopefully just take the device back to them and not have to stick around for long, scheduled for the same early o'clock. Probably remind them of the freaking migraine likely skewing results.

Up next week: Eyeball Laser Wednesday, which I'll apparently have to get to and from on my own since Mr. C was already scheduled to do something else important. 😬 Gastroscopy Thursday in Lund. Then freaking GP Phone Appointment Friday, to follow up on their fucking monkeying around with my neuropathy pain meds. Which is making everything else suck more.

All the rest while dealing with no doubt at least another Pupil Dilation Hell migraine, plus (hopefully temporarily!) fucked-up vision and whatever other aftereffects from the laser zapping. With any luck, I will get SOME break between migraines, but we'll just have to see.

I know they're apparently really wanting to get as much as they can out of the way before Christmas Limbo. In a way, I am glad they're not just continuing to neglect some urgent looking problems. And at least nobody has been actively treating me like something stuck to the bottom of their shoe so far.

But jfc, it would all be So Much even if I were not autistic. 🥴

Honestly barely holding myself back from screaming meltdowns whenever I let myself think about it, and dealing with some pretty disturbing thought loops about now.

But, what are you going to do? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[writinggarbage007]

Bad Bad Girlfriend

Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes x dark! reader

Warnings: Sex, stalking.Also murder, manipulating people,general mayhem, con woman

Casey in the bushes with a machete

Will update warnings on each chapter if necessary.

Slight AU

You showed Nick Fury out of your house and watched as he and Maria Hill left in a black SUV similar to your own. Shutting and locking the door you flipped on your security to the house and grounds. You were still irritated with Casey. She had put you in a sticky situation with Shield and now you were going to get her out of your life.

Walking up the wide staircase you plotted in your head. There was so much to do and so little time. Heading for your bedroom you stripped and got into the shower. You probably had an hour before Fury sent you the files he promised.

You went through your usual shower ritual and dressed in a loose tee and sleep shorts. Padding down the stairs you headed for the office and pulled up your email. Right on time there was one from Hill with a huge attachment. You read over the files for all Bucky's ex-girlfriends with amusement. They were suckers. They went all in after the first date and didn't see the break up coming. Not a mistake you would have made.

Emailing Maria back, you told her you would be in touch when you had information they could use and stood up. Dinner and a Netflix binge before bed sounded like a really good idea. Tomorrow you'd have to start digging into the underworld you tried to stay separate from so tonight was relaxation time, you thought.

It took a week for you to turn up a lead. A low level Hydra thug named Burke dropped off the grid in Richmond, Virginia a few weeks ago. Two days later, another Hydra agent, Astor went silent. He was reputed to be handy with a knife and had no respect for women. There was a pattern in the weeks leading up to the abduction. Then the doctor was flown into Dulles airport outside D.C., and his reputation was for experimentation and extracting information.

Wherever this Samantha assistant girl was it was looking like Hydra had plans for her. That was never a good thing.

You called Maria Hill directly with your info and ran it down for her. Dates, contacts, video you had hacked or gotten by pretending to be a police officer. You didn't tell her where you got it and she didn't ask.

"Are you sure this is everything?" Maria Hill asked, and you grinned at her formal tone.

"Just one more thing," you say turning toward the french doors of your office."My contact said one more person he knows of went missing in Brazil last week." You pause for dramatic effect, "Crossbones. Brock Rumlow."

"Fuck." Maria says and hangs up the phone. You barely hold your laughter in. You knew that name would get her.

The Avengers Compound:

Fury walks into the conference room like he owns the building, much to the annoyance of Tony Stark. All the Avengers were present as Fury had requested. He knew they thought he was dramatic but you had given him good information and he needed the team to follow up on it.

"We have information from an informant. The abduction was the work of Hydra. None of Barnes' exes were involved, although our informant says he may want to be on guard when it comes to Casey Piven. We still have her under surveillance, but she's bat shit crazy." He eyeballs Barnes as the former Winter Soldier sank into his chair. "We have a list of Hydra agents who went off the grid in the weeks leading up to Samantha going missing. You may recognize a few names."

Steve snatched up the folder Fury tossed on the table. He went white, standing and leaving the room. Tony sighed and took the folder and began reading the names to Friday for facial recognition and background.

When he got to the last name he paused before reading "Brock Rumlow."

Bucky stiffened and looked around at the rest of the team. They all had varying degrees of trepidation on their faces. He blew out a breath and rose to go after Steve.

"Barnes!" Fury barked,"walk me out."

Confused Bucky followed the leather clad man to the elevators. Once inside Fury hit the stop button and pulled a device from his pocket. Hitting a blue button he turned to Bucky and said,"We have 2 minutes until Stark's AI reboots the cameras. My informant would like to meet you. She is Ms. Piven's ex-step-sister and she has a lot of insight we can use. She isn't a low level con woman. She has….Skills. I would like you to take the meeting."

"Sir," Bucky began.

" Trust me Barnes she has a whole list of reasons she doesn't trust Casey Piven. She even told the chick to leave you alone. Her grandfather and I did business together and I have done business with her a time or two. Do a background on her. Of course then you have to disregard everything you read." Fury lets out a huffing laugh. "Name is Y/N Y/LN. Address and date of birth will be sent to your phone. Let me know soon. She isn't known for patience."

Fury restarted the elevator and when the doors opened strode away with a wave over his shoulder. Bucky pressed the button for his floor and chewed on his lip. He had an appointment with Dr Kate this afternoon and he needed to shower and check on Steve. He'd think about this then talk to Steve about it tomorrow. Getting off the elevator he saw his best friend sitting in the common room with his head in his hands. Maybe he'd talk to Natasha about it tomorrow. The Punk had enough going on.

The next morning Bucky headed to the kitchen to get breakfast early. He wanted to talk to Nat before Steve, Sam and himself went running. Entering the kitchen he saw Sam was already there but no sign of Nat.

"Has Natasha been down yet?" He asked Sam.

"Yeah, she left about twenty minutes ago on a recon with Clint. Fury's tip had Tony and her up all night." Sam replied sipping on his coffee. When Bucky's shoulders fell a little with a disappointed sigh Sam said, "You can talk to me. I probably won't make fun of you."

Bucky considered for a moment then related the story from Fury, everything except the shutting down of the security cameras. He low-key wanted to learn that trick himself. As he sat across from Sam and took a drink from his own coffee, Steve spoke from the doorway.

"You should meet with her. She might have more info to get Samantha back." Steve said with an intense look that made Sam and Bucky squirm.

"I know you're upset about your assistant Cap," Sam said, (ignoring Bucky's muttered Ya' think) But we don't have a background on this girl yet. Maybe we get…"

Before he can finish Steve is calling to Friday to run a background check and find any information she can on Y/N Y/L/N.

Bucky and Sam just look at each other for a minute as Steve storms out of the kitchen calling Tony to see if he has other ideas.

"He is taking this hard." Sam says and Bucky nods.

"He's always had a thing for her. He said he never asked her out because he was being professional."

Just then Friday announced that Bucky had a visitor. Looking at the security screen he saw his latest "girlfriend" at the front desk. He hasn't called her in over a week and had only texted her back once, but here she was. Damn he missed Samantha right now.

Going down to the lobby himself he took her aside and explained there was a lot going on. Their assistant was kidnapped and he didn't want to put her in that kind of danger so he was breaking up with her. When she started crying he patted her back gently leading her to the door. He felt like an ass. Did they all cry?

After she hugged him again and finally left he turned and the security guard at the desk asked if he wanted to follow the usual protocol. Bucky sat while the Guard, Mike he thought his name was, explained that Samantha blocked their numbers and revoked their access to the compound. He just nodded and walked to the elevator to go find Steve.

Steve and Tony were standing in the middle of the lab with your files floating in the air. Bucky looked at your driver's license picture and tilted his head a little. You were pretty. Looking at the rest of the floating files (he was never going to get used to that) he saw a picture of a large house. Where did women that lived in mansions get info on Hydra? There was something off about this whole situation.

"We can be wheels up in 20. It's a short trip, maybe another 20 to get there. I'll take Buck and Sam. We'll let you know if we need back up." Steve was telling Tony.

"Oh I'm coming along with you." Tony said rotating the files again. "I want to see what she had to say to the Manchurian candidate over there. And this background is too clean. There's no social media, no ugly secrets. She runs an office supply company and knows Hydra secrets. I'm not buying it."

An office supply company? Bucky was sure Casey had said that she worked at one when she was laid off. He asked Tony if there were lay offs at the company and wasn't surprised when Tony said not in the last ten years. Everything Casey had told him was a lie from the start.

Maybe this Y/N could help them find Steve's assistant before he had a total meltdown. She could also help him sort through Casey's lies. He still felt guilty that Samantha was caught up in his mess and if meeting this girl could help he was going to do it.

@supraveng @mycosmicparadise

[flockofteeth]

every day i interact with the modern medical system its a wonder i haven't ended up shooting homeopathy into my eyeballs in a back alley i swear to god

i changed to a new GP practice a month ago and they still have not managed to transfer my records. my first appt with the new gp im trying was a mess partially because, two weeks in, she didn't have my medical records. then in a fit of nerves about my adhd medication + the tachycardia ive been dealing with she contacted the public mental health centre for advice, ignoring the fact that my previous GP already did that & got advice which we followed, but of course that's on my medical records which she didn't have. so then I started getting texts from the public mental health centre inviting me to an appointment with the psych for a medication review. but the crucial detail here is that this is the mental health centre where staff have traumatized me & repeatedly treated me like shit

i was. significantly distressed at the idea of interacting with them again. and then i had to have a phone call with them yesterday where predictably i was stressed as fuck & with surprising efficiency the nurse i spoke to treated me like shit & brought up my trauma again

i did not sleep well and im facing a second doctors appt tomorrow STILL WITH NO MEDICAL RECORDS and i am ready to make it everyone's problem

i just called both my new & old GP practices about my records... for the first time today. it will not be the last time.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader- “The Work Wife” Part 6

You’ve been working for The Joker for the past 10 years: you speak and act for him and no matter the circumstances, Y/N is always there to take care of everything he needs.  The King of Gotham might not be married, yet he has a perfect partner: his work wife.

Starts HERE

After 1 Month

The Joker circles the warehouse, inspecting the boxes and crates full of ammo and smuggled goods received with last night’s shipment.

“Hmm…” he eyeballs a decorative vase engraved with gold and silver, wondering if the extravagant object should become part of his collection at The Penthouse. His cell start vibrating and J takes it out of pocket, impatient to hear about his wife’s routine checkup:

“ ‘ello,” he kicks two packages out of the way.

“Hi,” you greet your spouse. “Just got out of my appointment; the doctor said all seems fine. He ordered some lab tests to make sure my blood levels are within the normal range; I should get the results in about 3 days.”

“That’s awesome!” he grumbles while bending over to grab some papers scattered on the floor. “I’m glad you’re ok, I should have come also for moral support.”

Y/N smiles at the confession, choosing not to disclose it makes her happy:

“You have to sort out the cargo; the buyer will be there shortly.”

“Yeah, but this could have waited.”

Your smile gets wider as J fumbles around with several items. 

“Tell you what: I’ll finish up some stuff here and I’ll drive to pitch in.”

The King of Gotham wouldn’t normally decline yet he’s actually worried after everything that happened.

“Nope, I want you to rest; you’ve been too active lately and you need to slow down. Why are you giggling?” he smacks his lips, displeased four trunks look like they’ve been tampered with.

“Nothing in particular,” the bubbly Y/N keeps the best for last.

“I’ll see you home; I found something I don’t like,” The Joker grunts as the heavy lid is lifted from one of the containers. “Stay put and relax!” he orders and you nonchalantly drop the bomb:

“Maybe I will,” and after a small pause: “Oh! By the way, I was given green light for sex.”

“ ‘kay, see you in a couple of hours,” J struggles with the box and waits for your long “Byeeeeee” before hanging up. A few seconds into his task and it hits.

“Holy shit!” he exhales and holds his breath, startled. “Jesus!!” he abandons the precious merchandise, running towards the exit. “Froooossst!!!” he gets his henchman’s assistance. “Take over!!”

“Yes sir!” Jonny emerges from one of the SUV’s parked inside, not understanding why his boss is in a hurry. “Anything wrong?”

“No!!! I have a personal emergency!!” The Joker shouts and pushes the heavy metal door to the side, wishing he was already at his destination.

*************

J enters the code on the pin pad and he is granted access into your apartment. He went to The Penthouse first: you weren’t there and he figured you must be on the 29th floor. He storms inside and rushes towards the bedroom when his enthusiasm is abruptly halted by no other than Jonathan Crane coming out of the kitchen.

Scarecrow almost drops the fresh coffee mug you brewed for him; The Clown Prince of Crime was certainly not informed you had company. Doesn’t matter though, he’s not one to be embarrassed by his current situation:

“May I help you Crane?” a high and mighty J sassily blurs out wearing nothing but his birthday suit.

“I doubt it,” Jonathan is quick to respond. “I dropped by to bring you extra ampules of Liquid Dream like you wanted and pain killers refill for Y/N in case she needs more.”

You suddenly pop up from behind Scarecrow, not being able to stop the question:

“Why are you naked?!”

The Joker opens his mouth because he has a cool explanation, yet the guest doesn’t care about it.

“I think I should bail,” he smirks as he passed by J. “I’m taking the cup, I’ll bring it back next time,” he announces and can’t contain a smartass remark: “Nice attire.”

Your husband bitterly growls and as always, you have to be the catalyst for a better outcome:

“Thank you, Jonathan!”

Scarecrow waves without adding extra comments, 100% positive you’ll burst out laughing as soon as he vacates the premises.  

And he’s correct.

“Oh my God,” you snicker since you didn’t expect such a funny coincidence to unfold within today’s schedule. “That was hilarious!” the amused Y/N finds herself in The Joker’s arms moments after Jonathan’s departure. “Where are your clothes?!” you kiss him and he yanks at your waist, purring.

“The jacket and shirt in the car, pants and boxers in the elevator,” he admits while guiding you towards the couch in the living room. “The socks and shoes are somewhere on the hallway.”

“I was wondering when you’ll realize about the news I shared,” you whisper in his ear as he takes off your summer dress, aroused.

The two bodies plunge on the sofa, Y/N enjoying the intimacy as much as he does:

“J… … J…” you cling to him when his left hand slips in your bikini.

“Mmm? Does something hurt?” The Joker pecks the tip of your nose, ready to quit if you say yes.

“No… it’s not that,” the seriousness in your voice makes him pay attention.

Maybe you shouldn’t bring up the past in these circumstances; here it comes anyway:

“If the Las Vegas events repeat themselves… I won’t forgive you again,” you stare in his eyes without blinking. “I won’t return… ”

The Joker is silent and you wonder what’s going on in his mind; it’s not a secret he was miserable after being abandoned in the City of Lights due to his despicable conduct.

“They won’t.”

“Are you sure?” the doubt in your tone forces him to reveal:

“I’m sure because it felt horrible when you weren’t around.”

You caress J’s hair and remind him you won’t compromise for less than his total commitment:

“You’re either mine or you’re not, ok?...”

“I’m yours,” he grumbles and it’s not very difficult since the woman asking is no casual fling but the only one he ever wanted to marry for reals. “I want the special treatment,” the immediate request makes you snort: it’s so like him to articulate crap like this in the middle of a serious discussion. 

“Do you?!”

“Yes!!” The Joker nibbles on your neck and underlines his affliction: “I’ve been so horny I’m not sure how I still function; I behaved though, I swear!” he’s fast to emphasize while pulling on your bra strap. “You know why?” J throws the question out there, aware the statement will please his wife. “I tolerate you… even if you’ve been nagging me for almost 12 years.”

“Careful,” you admonish. “Uttering such words makes you sound like you’re in love.”

“God forbids! You think so?!” the painful grimace on his face prompts more teasing from your part:

“Yeap, no cure for this terrible disease.”

Your bra ends up on the floor and he’s not content with the epilogue.

“I’m screwed then.”

“Noooot yet,” you wink and his purring intensifies when your teeth sink into his shoulder. “We’re getting there.”

************

Same morning, 11:47am

“There you are!” J exclaims discovering you on the terrace. “You disappeared on me Y/N: I thought you said we’ll have lunch,” the hyper spouse recalls. “What’s wrong?” he frowns seeing you wiping your tears and doesn’t stress the lack of an answer when he notices the ultrasound picture. The Joker quietly sits by you on the swing, kissing your scared cheek in the process. “You ok?”

“U-hum,” you nod. “I wish I didn’t have the miscarriage, you know?...” your bottom lip quivers while placing the image in your robe’s pocket. “I really wanted a baby…”

“My poor old girl…” he sighs and doesn’t expect you to agree.

“I am old!” you keep sobbing and he squeezes you closer to him. “It was probably my last chance to have a child and I blew it!”

The King of Gotham sucks at cheering; he attempts nevertheless:

“Mmmm… You’re supposed to say you’re not old and then I reply that you are old for my standards, which should prompt you to fight back and highlight my standards are crap. Am I to carry on these sort of conversations meant for two by myself now?!” he huffs. “People will think I’m crazy!”

You snort at his monologue and it’s the perfect opportunity to make it clear your opinion is unchanged:

“Your standards are crap!”

“There you are,” the delighted Joker reckons. “I got nervous for a moment,” he chuckles and you elbow him, smiling through tears. “What about we eat something and then we can plan our location for the honeymoon we didn’t get to enjoy?”

J’s plan is working: the little surprise proposition is distracting Y/N and she carefully weighs in his sentences.

“Would you like to elope?” he pushes for a decision and you play with your wedding ring, mumbling:

“I don’t wanna go to Vegas.”

“No Vegas!” he’s fast to consent. “Where to then?”

“Well…” you sniffle, “…what about Reno? We could stay at Solaris Casino; Mark Nessi would accommodate us.”

“He would. If we pack and leave, we can make it there by 7:30-ish pm.”

“You want to leave today?! What about your meetings? You actually have one tomorrow.”

“Meh, Frost can postpone them,” The Joker dismisses your concerns. “I vote we bail and have fun, hm?” he lifts your chin up. “Let’s get the hell out of here, yes?” the impatient Clown wiggles next to you.

“OK…” Y/N elects to grant his plea because escaping town couldn’t have a better timing: it will be nice to spend time together and try to get over the disappointment of his past mistake.

**************

Reno, 8:42pm

You and The Joker are strolling towards the gambling area, excited to have made it here an hour ago. The traffic wasn’t bad and you took turns driving, that’s why you had dinner first and then changed clothes in order to enjoy the night properly.

“I liked the lobster,” you pull at his arm since he’s distrait. “How was your stake?” you seek to chat when he suddenly opens the door to one of the storage closets and shoves you inside. You get trapped against the wall as J claims his special request for the evening.

“I want the special treatment,” he growls and you smirk.

“You didn’t do anything to earn it! This morning I made an exception because it’s been weeks since we had sex. Don’t let my lenience trick you!”

“Don’t nag me!” J cuts you off. “This backless red dress of yours is doing things to me so I want the special treatment,” he slides his arms around your waist.

“Surrounded by shampoo bottles and toilet paper?!”

“It’s quite sexy,” The Joker grins and you compromise a tiny bit:

“I’ll only do the first part! That’s it! I want to go and play poker.”

His face comes close to yours and you start kissing every inch of it, ogling the door instead of paying attention to him.

“You’re not doing it right!” your husband complains. “You’re supposed to look at me!”

You switch your concentration and keep staring in his eyes, abandoning the project when you consider it done.  

“Where are you going?” J stops your movement. “Thanks to you I can’t walk now,” he lifts up your short dress and you dodge his touch, opening the door in order to escape.

“Of course you can! Come on, stop sulking,” you drag him out and he follows, bickering at your indifference.

“You’re mean!” The Joker admonishes and you intertwine his fingers with yours, guiding him in the direction of the VIP room.  

“No, I’m not,” you defend your actions. “I’ve been around you for so many years that those blue eyes and long lashes don’t have any powers over me,” Y/N teases. “I’m immune.”

“Bullshit!” he mutters and you steal a kiss, inviting him to enter the poker room.

“Do you want to sit by the bar?” you point and J doesn’t oppose the choice. “I’m getting a cocktail. Grape juice?”

“No,” he pouts and makes himself comfortable while you fetch your drink.

“Hello Mister Joker,” one of the dolled-up girls swiftly pops up at the table. “I didn’t see you in forever!”

“I’ve been busy,” he avoids the subject and barks when she tries to collapse on the chair next to his. “This seat’s taken!”

“Oh,” she straightens her back. “By whom?!” the envious Ella inquires.

Did another girl get to him first?! It’s common knowledge he’s generous with his flings and she can’t believe another will cash in the benefits.

“My wife,” he taps his fingers on the table, annoyed the interrogation continues.

“You got married Mister Joker?!” the woman doesn’t hide her astonishment: it’s not that his nuptials were broadcasted on the news. Plus… he’s a very weird man, totally not husband material.

“A few months ago,” he sneers and she’s not smart enough to take the hint.

“Who did you marry Mister Joker?” she giggles, more and more convinced he’s bluffing: The King of Gotham is probably messing around to make her jealous.

“My best friend and main nagger,” J bitterly mentions. “Isn’t this what people do? Marry their best friends?”

“You almost got me Mister Joker,” she laughs at his strange acknowledgement, reassured he’s messing with her: an individual like him would pronounce such nonsense only to initiate flirting.

“Excuse me!” you bump into her on purpose, aware why she’s there. “I got you grape juice on ice,” you place the glass in front of your spouse and he opens his mouth in amazement.

“I was literally about to order this! How did you know I changed my mind?!”

“Best friends know,” you bend to kiss him and J pouts, annoyed you overheard his childish affirmation.

“You have such a cool tattoo on your back!” Ella exclaims. “Is that Japanese?”

Y/N turns in her chair, confused to notice the lady is still standing behind them.

“Yes.”

“What does it say?”

You take a deep breath, fed up by her unwanted presence.

“It says that if you don’t get lost, I’ll make sure your body is never found again! And if it’s eventually found, it surely won’t be identifiable!!”

You reprise your position at the poker table, patiently waiting for the dealer to finish handing out the cards.

“I’m so hot and bothered,” J brushes his lips on yours. “Your attitude begs for my undivided eagerness to peel you out of this dress,” he lustfully glares at your cleavage.“What do you say we leave and have a party on our own? We can play strip poker in the honeymoon suite.”

“We just got here minutes ago,” you fix a rebel strand of hair then whisper: “Table seven, white shirt guy.”

“Do you ever take vacations?” The Joker grinds his teeth, nonchalantly gazing at your suspicious target.

“I like to mix business with pleasure,” you wink and accidentally spill a little bit of your cocktail on his pants. “Oops, pardon me; I assume you have to come with me if you need help stepping out of your wet garment.”

“As that old Arkham report specifies: I need all the help I can get,” The Clown reveals to an amused Y/N, excited she’s receptive to his innuendos.

**************

You emerge from the walk-in closet in your skimpy purple lace attire and The Joker gasps, enticed at the view.

“Oh my God! Com’ere!” he gestures for your company and you crawl in bed, pushing aside the items scattered on the sheets:

“What’s with the shampoo bottles and toilet paper rolls?!”

“I’m attempting to recreate the seductive atmosphere in the storage room, maybe it can convince you to continue the special treatment.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” you scoff and straddle his lap, conflicted if you should grant his wish.

“I usually don’t… Are you gonna help like you promised and take off my pants?” J gropes you and the knock at the door interrupts your answer.

“Room service!”

“Did you order from the menu?” you ask and your husband purrs:

“More champagne.”

“Maybe our new friend has arrived,” you wink, hopping out of bed.

“Why don’t we find out?” The Joker spanks your butt as you cover your body with the bathrobe.

Y/N grabs the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and hides around the corner while he shouts:

“Come in!”

The waiter pushes in the rolling cart in the middle of the lobby, greeting his grouchy customer:

“Hi Mister Joker, would you like one bottle or two?”

“One!”

You creep beyond him and smash the glass against his skull; the man falls on his knees and you take advantage of his dizziness to switch him face up: it is the guy from table seven!

“Who send you?” you ferociously punch him and he struggles to escape when The King’s gun ends up one inch away from his temple. “Who send you?” Y/N shrieks and she’s so absorbed into her job she can’t discern the mesmerized Joker staring at her. It’s not that he didn’t see you in action before, but it finally clicked:

It sure pays off being married to your work wife!

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: Diyunho.

[befitandchase]

So I didn’t post anything yesterday about C2E2 cuz, well, everyone beat me to it! Oh well.

Side note: I’m pretty sure I got sick from going to the con cuz I feel like absolute shit. I started coughing really bad around 8:30 last night. I have been coughing all day and I’m pretty sure my sinuses are completely clogged. I just checked my temp, and I’m at 100.5.

Thankfully I scheduled an appointment with my doctor tomorrow night so I can nip this thing in the bud before it causes me more problems.

I just really hope it’s not coronavirus. That would seriously screw up a lot of stuff for me, especially at work. Not going to work = no money going into my bank account, and I definitely can’t have that. I’m up to my eyeballs in medical bills and on the 15th, my first payment is due for storm chasing.

Please let this be just a damn cold. Please!

[theawkwardterrier]

beautifulwhensarcastic replied to your photo “Good morning from the Beth Israel ER! Been here for about eight hours...”

Are you okay?

Hopefully on my way there! I’m home and feeling much improved and best of all I left

lavellenchanted replied to your photo “Good morning from the Beth Israel ER! Been here for about eight hours...”

Oh no, I hope you're alright!

Appreciate it - it wasn’t my favorite experience, but also not the worst experience of my life! (I interviewed for a job on 30 minutes of sleep the night after the 2016 election.)

theshortywrites replied to your photo “Good morning from the Beth Israel ER! Been here for about eight hours...”

I'm sorry you're in the ER! I hope you feel better. Also, yes. That hallway gurney is your home now. You live there. Forevermore. But given my extensive ER experience, hallways stretchers generally mean that while you may be sick as shit, you're not actively acute rapidly dying and that counts for a lot right?

That is true. And my tiny hospital house was placed right by the doors through which the people who were in the active/acute/rapidly dying phase were being whisked, so it definitely put things in perspective. (Also, when they moved me to a room, I actually longed for the gurney where I might be noticed and discharged instead of spending what seemed like the rise and fall of an empire waiting for them to let me leave.)

indiefic replied to your photo “Good morning from the Beth Israel ER! Been here for about eight hours...”

oh no! I hope you're okay

Hopefully yes, thank you!

mediocre-mee replied to your photo “Good morning from the Beth Israel ER! Been here for about eight hours...”

What happened??

Bit of a story here... (Medical stuff below)

Back on Sunday the 17th, I started having incredibly painful and weird headaches behind my right eye socket. (I was pretty certain that I took myself to paint pottery over the long weekend, but had to confirm that I actually did have the pickup receipt because it was a strange, semi-hallucinatory blur of an afternoon. Hope it turns out well!) At first I thought I was just an old woman who can’t stay up late anymore, so I was Very Responsible and got extra sleep and drank water and took Motrin and absolutely nothing helped.

The headaches got worse; toward the beginning of the week, I would wake up fine and then the pain would start toward the afternoon and escalate into the evening. Friday night, my right eye started tearing consistently for about an hour. By Saturday morning, I woke up with the same, terrible headache I had gone to sleep with, and my right eye so droopy it basically looked closed. It’s remained pretty droopy since, which neither my roommates nor people at my office seemed to notice (compliment?).

I’ll also mention here that two weeks back, I hit my head (right eyebrow, toward the nose) on the towel rod in my bathroom. Which stunned me for a second and had a tender spot and a bump, but otherwise no immediate symptoms. Now I was starting to wonder about slow developing concussion issues. 

I was incredibly reluctant to take action, in case it ended up looking like an overreaction, but also because I was worried about what next steps would look like (doctors? in MY brain???). I talked to my incredibly calm and smart mother, whose new motto is “don’t be like the lady in the endometriosis commercial” so I took myself to urgent care on Sunday. The woman who saw me there started by advising me to go to the ER right away, then walked it back and said it could just be conjunctivitis (which I’ve seen and was pretty certain I didn’t have) and to go pick up some eyedrops. Obviously I asked what would happen if it was an emergency problem and I just took eyedrops and she told me that “wasn’t a fair question” because “she didn’t know what was going on in there.” Then I asked if she would overall advise an ER visit, and she said, “well, that’s why I’m presenting you with these two options.” So that was very helpful.

Because I’m a pushover and was also afraid of an ER visit and its potential results, I took path of most eyedrops for a day or so, but then messaged my doctor (I think the endometriosis lecture has sunk in) Monday. She scheduled me for an exam and MRI at her next appointment (Thursday afternoon) but told me that if I experienced changes in symptoms especially dizziness and nausea, I should go to the emergency room.

I struggled through Tuesday with the hallucinatory feeling back and the pain getting progressively worse (my new best friend Excedrin Migraine was no longer working for more than an hour or so). Then I started feeling somewhat nauseated...and told myself it was nothing and it would pass. (I’m extremely good at health.) I took the bus home. I put together my new coatrack. I took a shower. Then I started noticing a tingling and numbness in my feet, moving up my legs.

So finally I packed a backpack with comfortable clothes, a water bottle, my wallet, and a cell phone charger, and took two subways to the hospital.

They got me checked in pretty much right away (they escalated it because of the fall/concussion risk and potential escalation, but also because I was experiencing tachycardia and I think they were nervous; I’m almost certain I had the accelerated heartbeat because I was nervous. Like potentially that I might die.) Texted my parents; my dad headed out to come stay with me.

Through that night and into today, I got a head CT, an MRI (I fell asleep inside; this happened at 3 AM ish and the weird pulsing jackhammer noises were somehow soothing), a second, different head CT, and saw an ophthalmologist and ENT. Basically my eyeball is fine, my brain is fine, the fall probably had nothing to do with anything, the theory that I was bleeding somewhere in there got thrown out, and what I probably have is a mucus filled cyst that’s been hanging out in my face (right sinus) and became infected and started pushing on my facial muscle and eating away at my bone. Which is SUCH a fun image, but also better than brain surgery or “well, you’re dead from an aneurysm!”

So now I get to be on medication to shrink the cyst and clear up the infection and then go in next week so they (please GOD while I’m asleep) can stick a camera way up in there and also biopsy the thing because even on the imaging they’re not 100% sure it’s not some kind of other mass. And I'm supposed to go see a neurologist because the tingling feeling in my legs isn’t really explicable with the other stuff.

Anyway, I’m taking tomorrow off of work. And that’s what happened.

[dzpenumbra]

10/4/22

I had this weird thing with my eye happen again this morning. It was the right eye this time. It was just a sharp pain on my eyeball when I opened my eye, like a burn or peeled skin or something. I think my eyes are super dry and sticking to my eyelids in my sleep or something? I don't know. It happened 3 times this week. I'm hoping to get eyedrops tomorrow. So, since I last wrote here, I went to bed, was woken up at around 11 to a lawnmower right outside my window - so about 5-6 hours of sleep. Pulled me right out of deep sleep, and when I opened my eye that happened. So I had to like cup it and try to get it to flood tears to get it to eventually go away. It was a good 10 minutes or so. Not fun.

I don't know whether to see an eye doctor about it. It might be like allergies or something. It might be because I'm still running the box fan despite it getting down to like 40F every night, basically just for the white noise at this point. Maybe it's just getting drier out. Or I'm really dehydrated? So I'm gonna get eye drops and try to stay hydrated. If it happens again, I'll try to set an appointment.

Not a ton to say today, honestly. Getting back onto SketchDaily really helped me realign with art stuff. I haven't been producing many final products in... a long time, actually. So I haven't felt... productive. Go figure. But I think a big part of that feeling is because I'm not including this, or my soul/spirit work. Which is absolutely silly, because this and my soul/spirit work are pretty much the foundation that my work is built on. Stream of consciousness and self-exploration have been the sources of my artwork since late high school. It's very odd for me to get the idea in my head that exploring my psyche and learning more about my multifaceted personality - my perspective, my broad-spectrum experience of life - is somehow... not productive work. It's literally the source of my creativity. How... I'm just being a bit harsh on myself with this one, I'm just so goddamn tired of treating myself like I'm a lazy, spoiled bum.

I find so many people that just desperately scramble for something to bring meaning into their life. I have known for a long time what my role here is. Some people yearn to repair peoples' bodies, give them a new lease on life. Some people strive to nurture youth, helping lay the foundation for a new generation. I think. I solve puzzles. I learn. I overlay different filters on situations I encounter based on the huge variety of things I've studied, rapid-cycling through different lenses to gain a multifaceted perspective. And my intuition has a starring role in connecting the dots.

It makes me wonder... are my intuition and my inspiration... the same thing? The same... function? entity? part of my psyche? part of my brain? You see? All the different lenses - brain function (psychology), entity (spiritual, sci fi), Jungian (I guess?), physiological (science) - coming together to help really narrow in what I'm talking about.

I'm tired. I just hit a mental brick wall, the train just whizzed right past the station. I feel like I'm just kinda trying to reassure myself that I have a purpose, and that it is very clearly understood, and that really I haven't been searching for my purpose for over a decade, close to two now... I've been searching for people who value it. Who wish to drink from the fountain as well? Weird analogy, but I guess it kinda makes sense. I feel like I've really just been a passenger for my muse, my inspiration, and he/she/they/it/whatever really decides what comes out and when. I just choose whether to engage with... let's just use her for the sake of having a placeholder pronoun. She always struck me as gentler... though, honestly, now that I think about it... XD Maybe it's just because she's like a birthing source of creativity, maybe that's why the feminine association.

Anyway, I feel like I'm just sorta here to let these concepts, intentions, messages, images, etc. come out through me. Like I'm building the framework, doing the research, doing the labor - but she creates the spark. She connects the dots and feeds me the solution.

That leads me to a very interesting concept. See, I had a bit of a discussion recently about the two selves being actual different parts of the brain interacting, and it's pretty helpful in bridging the gap between non-spiritual science-only folk and spiritual folk. So we can all be on the same page about what we're talking about, without someone going "that's a bunch of woo woo bullshit." But what's grabbing my attention here is the idea that, you know... sometimes you get these..... well, don't let me speak for you, I have no idea how many people actually get this phenomena... but let's just say a very intricate realization starts unfolding in your brain. Perhaps prompted, maybe seemingly spontaneously. This just manifests preformed in your brain, right? Like... it comes to you. At least it does for me, again... reiterating that... no clue what anyone else's thought patterns or creative processes are like... So, if this concept is coming from the "gut" a.k.a. the more primal parts of the brain, how is it capable of such complex connections? um... complex... presentations? Like if I just get this idea for a new video game, well shit, you know what... the more I think about it, most of my info dump inspiration sessions like that are very... conceptual in nature, yeah? Almost dream-like. Very like... you have a concept in your head, in your mind's eye, but can't find the words for it yet so it's just the concept without any words associated? So kinda visual/conceptual, if that makes sense. So I guess it does make sense that that would come from a more primitive part of the brain.

I think the point I was trying to make was how it seems like something else must be going on there. Like how can such a primitive part of the brain be capable of such insanely complex narrative? Like... this is the same part of the brain that controls reflexes and shit, you know? I thought that was reserved for higher brain functions, like front-brain shit? Same goes for dreams. That shit fascinates me. It's like why the fuck do I even need sci-fi movies anymore, I can just go into my own imagination and try to speculate on what the fuck dreaming actually is. Is it creating a new throwaway universe for you to explore? What actually is the experience of dreaming? Something is actually being created from nothingness in that moment, like people can just say "oh your brain is just firing randomly" or some cop-out anti-science shit. But that brain is responding to something, and the firing is creating an experience. That experience exists... somewhere... right? I mean... we can all agree that when we're dreaming... technically... we're in two places at once mentally? We're dormant in a body - if we were watching a film of ourselves sleeping we would recognize this - and at the same time walking down a gravel road somewhere with woods on the right and a grassy field on the left, and a big old manor up ahead on a driveway to the right. I can see it clear as day in my minds eye right now, just remembering it, and that was a dream from almost 20 years ago. I remember less about real places I have been. I could paint this place. So how is it not real? How does it not exist? How is it not important.

So maybe part of my job, my calling, my profession - maybe all of it - is to bring these things from the dreamworld, from intuition, from inspiration... into our world. It feels like it. I'm sure I've come to this conclusion before, also. See, that's the shitty part about being this skeptical and depressed. You can easily lose track of who you are, and what you seek to do. What your goals are, what you're here to achieve. Maybe I need to remind myself of that more often. Maybe it's time for another tattoo soon. One that reminds me that my inspiration is the greatest gift I have, and it is my job to serve her well. To be her scribe.

I understand how this would be easier for people to conceptualize and accept if they were raised with some form of theism. When I call "her" part of myself, it feels like my whole life is pursuit of self-indulgence. If I called her a "god", well then I'm just being a good person of faith. As someone who has had no spiritual community my whole life, this is a very alien place to be. I teeter-totter with it frequently. So, perhaps it would be a good idea to find a spiritual group of some kind in my new area. Something multifaith or something, I don't know. I'll poke around.

[disappearinvisible]

Woke up sad and angry. For no reason. (Aside from just having permanently broken mood-regulating sections of my brain.)

Every tiny goof or normal routine glitch, especially common to humans before the first cup of coffee, just frustrated me and never went away. By the time I dropped the coffee spoon for the 4th time, I was so collectively aggravated I was holding back tears of rage.

I haven't thought about punching a wall in literally years, but today I almost did. I realized I was kinda close to doing something I'd regret later, so I've taken my anxiety meds, crawled under a weighted blanket, hoping to get a nap, but if no sleep, at least I've isolated myself.

I've been off all psychiatric meds for over 2 weeks. The Wellbutrin and Lexapro were great for mood regulation, but they both dried out my eyes to the point my eyelids would stick to my eyeballs. Wake up ... automatically open eyes ... rip the skin layers apart. Between my regular doctor, the 2 eye specialists, and a midnight trip to the emergency room, all they could do was give me more eye drops, more ointments, nothing more than Tylenol for pain (apparently I needed to monitor pain levels, which could indicate infection or the injury getting worse.)

Even the best psychiatric meds on the planet helping my brain be as normal as possible are useless if I'm curled up in bed trying not to open my eyes or especially not to blink.

And Wellbutrin gave me energy and motivation and insomnia, so even sleeping thru the pain was often impossible.

So ... not taking anything right now. At any given moment there are hundreds of thoughts, emotions, traumatic memories, sane ideas, horrifically insane ideas, all mixed together. I am exhausted before I get out of bed. Lonely. Feel surrounded by clutter/mess and no energy or motivation to do anything about it.

Having trouble with communicating with the few people who try to reach out. It ends up feeling like we've been in 2 different conversations, and I don't know if I'm the problem (maybe saying something just borderline strange, maybe being really vague but expecting someone to extrapolate anything logical out of what I did or didn't say) ..... Or is the other person not really listening and inferring something I hadn't remotely said at all, filling in the blanks in some surreal way.

I really want to know if it's my fault, at least then I would know to take more care in word choices, etc. One person has flat-out told me I babble so much they routinely ignore me.

I don't talk that much, especially not since they said they've learned to filter me out.

Could be both, both sides of my family have issues with schizophrenia and minor bouts of psychosis, I absolutely could have the genetic predisposition for either. Maybe they tune me out specifically because I don't make sense. Or maybe I just incessantly babble and just bore them to death.

Need to force myself to get another doctor appointment to find different antidepressants and maybe something for anxiety and sleep and and and

So hard to do without being drugged up in the first place.

Tired, will try sleep and start over tomorrow.

[clatterbane]

Tomorrow morning's delight: an opthalmology appointment! 😬

Which I am extra dreading, after repeatedly getting hold of that one blamey paternalistic fuck back in the UK.

(And just generally getting treated as subhuman by staff--and witnessing more than one big screwup in action--at that particular hospital clinic. A really fucking weird atmosphere, when eye doctors had seemed about as nonthreatening as you can get before?)

Not particularly looking forward to the minimum several days of photosensitive migraines afterwards, either, though at least it's not summer. 🌞

Plus, there's no way I do not need some kind of retinopathy treatment now, in at least that one eye. (Still out of pocket for now, just as icing.) Not only given the repeated Haunted Eyeball episodes, but also after seeing the referral notes and how much worse that eye had apparently gotten without their bothering to tell me.

(Besides the general NHS approach of treating people like mushrooms, IME? And the general shambolic state of that particular opthalmology department? It's easier to get away with ghosting and neglecting patients while the health service falls completely apart thanks to the Tories and added pandemic, if you don't even inform them of their need for treatment! 🙄)

Yeah, that's another fun thing! 🙃 To go along with the treatment-induced neuropathy.

On the plus side, though? At least this shit does not seem to be getting worse still. And the damage ought to slow way the hell down/somewhat heal itself, now that I am getting appropriate treatment for the diabetes. My control is actually looking pretty good and stable, now that I do have some freaking insulin in my body. (Storebought is fine! 🥴)

But yeah, I fully expect to be going back to get my eyeball(s) poked with hypodermic needles and/or zapped with lasers in the somewhat near future. With local anesthetics not working right for me, of course. 😬 Since they do seem to have a much more functional healthcare system here.

Pretty well resigned to that, for years now--and the risks there are looking so much better than, you know, eventually losing my vision! I would really like to continue seeing, thanks.

What I am more concerned about in advance, though? Hoping they WILL NOT treat me by default like all of this is just punishment for being an unrepentantly Fat Stupid Lazy Noncompliant Bad Diabetic Yank Slob--without bothering to even find out what's even going on. And I ought to show suitable gratitude that they are even charitable enough to see me at all, and do whatever the hell they choose to do for "help".

Nobody could possibly deserve that package of bullshit. On top of trying to deal with serious medical issues, no less. Here's hoping that the attitude will, once again, be different at this place!

[flykiwiflyaway]

I got an eye doctor’s appointment tomorrow and I’m very nervous about it. Kinda got a fear of eye doctors ever since elementary school since my eye doctor at the time.... told me he’d have to scoop out my eyeballs and stick needles in them to fix them if I didn’t protect my eyes.

Guess he was trying to scare me into protecting me eyes....but I just developed a fear of eye doctors/exams....

[prettyxlittlexwriter]

Meet My Wife: Ch 20

A/N: Getting close to the end, there is a little bit more to go!

Read it all on AO3: Meet My Wife

The flat is still and Sherlock wonders how long he’s been sitting, lost in thought. He knows he has to address what John has said to you, but for the first time in a long time, he feels at a loss for words.

John was right, of course. He knew it and he also know that you knew it. But what to do?

Deny it and lose whatever chance he still had at saving his marriage. Confess to it and scare you away. He was running out of options and Sherlock Holmes was not used to being a man without several courses of action at his disposal.

He had grown accustomed to the solitude he’d surrounded himself with over the past few years. Sure, he’d acquiesced a bit by letting John Watson into his life, then, of course, Mary and even Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, to an extent. But even then, even after he’d allowed himself to indulge in all those funny little relationships, he was still alone. He had almost forgotten what it was like to share himself with someone they way he had when he was with you.

The way he does when he is with you.

The way he would, if he could stay with you.

Going back to that life, the same life that until a few weeks ago he had found more than satisfactory, seems almost like a death sentence now.

Glancing at his watch, he sighs and reaches for his phone. It’s late but he has a feeling you aren’t yet asleep.

--Had an interesting chat with John.

You know he is trying to be cryptic, in case Ethan was home, but since you are alone you tap the screen and dial his number.

“John told me what he said to you,” Sherlock starts, and you can picture him, sitting in his chair, rubbing his temple as he speaks.

“I know that he and Mary both know what’s going on,” you sigh, “But knowing that they know makes it more real. And the fact that it’s real means that I am really an awful person…”

“You are not an awful person,” Sherlock says and the tone of his voice makes you wish that you were with him. He’d draw you close to him and make you believe these words.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you tell him, your throat beginning to ache with emotion.

“Come back,” Sherlock murmurs, his deep voice smooth as silk. “Please.” You squeeze the phone so tightly, your knuckles start to ache.

“I can’t,” you sniff. “I can’t.”

“I will come there,” he offers.

“No, it’s too risky,” you say, shaking your head even though he can’t see you.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks. You close your eyes and think hard about how to answer that.

“Yes,” you say, finally.

“Alright then, I will see you tomorrow,” he says, telling you good night before he hangs up. Setting your phone down, you grind the heels of your hands into your eyeballs. You reach for the paper sitting on the couch beside you and even though you’ve read it four or five times, you scan it again. Amidsts the formal wording and legal jargon is a date. On that day, you will cease being married to Sherlock and you will be free to marry Ethan. And even though you haven't really been Mrs. Y/N Holmes for a long, long time, knowing that part of your life will be truly over makes you feel a sense of loss that you never expected.

**********************************************

Back at home, Sherlock is attentive and doting, the two of you working together to navigate the grief surrounding your loss. True partners in all things, you each take turns being the strong one when the other breaks down.

You’ve been given a doctor’s note to take the rest of the semester off. You need to contact your professors to reschedule your final exams, but the past few days have been hard and you’ve barely gotten out of bed.

You are seated at your kitchen table with your planner closed in front of you, your hand on beside the telephone, tears running down your face. Your hormones are out of wack and the sad, empty feeling hits you at random times and at times you have difficulty keeping it together. Sherlock hears your tell-tale sniffling from the other room and comes running.

You know he understands and you know this is all normal, but every break down feels like you are disappointing him further. He pulls you from the chair and wraps you in his arms, stroking your hair and whispering gently to you. You continue to shake quietly in his embrace and as the tears subside he leads you to the bathroom and draws you a bath. You smile as you watch him, thinking for the one millionth time since you left the hospital how truly lucky you are.

“Have a soak,” he says, tugging at your clothes. “I will make the calls for you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling as if you might cry again. “All the names, dates and numbers are in my planner.”

“Just relax,” he says, as he ducks out the door. You shed your clothes and slip into the steamy water, the heat soothing your tired muscles and you close your eyes.

The soak in the bath seems to be just what you needed and as you dry and tug on your robe, you marvel at how well Sherlock knows you and always knows exactly what you need.

You pad down the hall into the bedroom and find Sherlock sitting on your bed. He doesn’t look up at you as you enter, his eyes focused on your leather planner that he is clutching in his hand. Something was very wrong, but you had no idea what.

“I…” he began, his voice faltering. He cleared his throat and started again. “I called all your professors and rescheduled your exams.” He opened the planner and winced, as if something on the page was causing him pain. “I saw you had a line through this appointment, but I wanted to double check that whatever it was had been cancelled… I didn’t want to assume…” You took a few steps forward and saw the appointment he was referring to. It was the appointment with the clinic that you’d made to end your pregnancy. Your heart fell to your toes.

“Sherlock…” you breathed.

“It’s your body, I respect that, but this is our life,” he says, finally meeting your eyes. The pain you see there is so staggering, you have to take a step back.

“It was only a second of doubt,” you stammer.

“Your second of doubt just confirmed my biggest doubt,” he said, closing the planner and tossing on the bed beside him.

“Sherlock, please,” you beg, but he strides past you. You follow after him and watch as he tugs on his jacket. “Where are you going?”

“I need some air to clear my head,” he said. “We will talk when I get back.”

“Sherlock, I love you,” you sniffed. He blinked at you for a second and then, he was gone, the door shutting loudly behind him.

Your legs give out and you collapse on the floor, the relaxed feeling from your bath long gone. You’d failed so many times over the past few weeks. You’d fallen short as a friend, a wife and a mother. You doubted the only person who loved you and as a result, you’d made him doubt himself. You almost aborted the pregnancy, which you then hid from him and then you denied him the opportunity to try again.

Your vision swam as tears filled your eyes. This wasn’t the type of wife you wanted to be and you weren’t the wife Sherlock deserved. You gazed around the small, dumpy apartment that you’d both turned into a home. It felt so empty without Sherlock here and suddenly the silence was deafening.

You were up off the floor and moving before you even realized what you were doing. You shed your robe, hastily dressing in jeans and a sweater and shove your feet into your boots. You pull your wet hair up into a low ponytail and grab your coat and purse off the hook. You hand pauses, hovering above the dish where the motorbike keys reside and you realize your trembling. With a deep breath, you grab them and jot down a note to Sherlock.

“Just a quick ride,” you mutter, repeating the same words you’d scribbled on the notepad inside as you kick start the bike, the loud engine almost drowning out all the terrible thoughts in your head. Almost, but not quite.

TAGS:  @thebookisbtr @cutie1365 @undiscoveries @shimmerybutt @fangirl-who-dreams @cele715 @theofficialbritish @tongueofareadywriter @hanzas01 @lazilysaltysweets @nerd-gal-4-ever @thefaultinourstudying @hpfan0324

[icyxmischief]

….I forgot….that I see the eye doctor tomorrow…. :’)

Opthalmology appointments for me are always four to six hours long, involving highly unpleasant tests, sometimes including injections into the eyeball (yes really) for swelling in the cornea or retina.  This is one of the most fun side effects of having Type 1 juvenile diabetes for nearly 30 years.  They also take complicated photos of the back of the eye, and there is always a good chance that I will be told that I need to have a surgical procedure to prevent blindness (it’s already happened twice).

For these reasons I am asking for prayers for strength. Many thanks! <3

[captaindibbzy]

@silly-jellyghoty I have a stye and it's finally developed its head. But it is UNDER my eyelid so it's just pressing against my eyeball and it's hurting and irritating and swollen and itchy :(

@feltpool yes :( or hot chocolate or tea. I am a grumpy pathetic baby

@lyrslair I'd have to phone them tomorrow at this point because the garbage pile that is my doctor's surgery switched to same day appointments during the pandemic which means phone at 8am and if you're lucky someone will answer you and give you an appointment. Or they might just hang up on you before you get through and then when you call back tell you there aren't any.

Someone please just take my eye out.

[sclfmastery]

….I forgot….that I see the eye doctor tomorrow…. :’)

Opthalmology appointments for me are always four to six hours long, involving highly unpleasant tests, sometimes including injections into the eyeball (yes really) for swelling in the cornea or retina.  This is one of the most fun side effects of having Type 1 juvenile diabetes for nearly 30 years.  They also take complicated photos of the back of the eye, and there is always a good chance that I will be told that I need to have a surgical procedure to prevent blindness (it’s already happened twice).

For these reasons I am asking for prayers for strength. Many thanks! <3