#I’d take fever over a sore throat any day

[cassieroo]

I hate being sick I hate being sick I hate being sick I hate being sick

[maxlarens]

I got a lot to say so it might be long,

starting with, thank you for the Charles smau and the Lando fic <3

it took me time to choose an emoji lol but I've been doing an internship and time goes by way too quickly, but I decided to go for the strawberry one 🍓

and since you said you wanted to write for driver! reader, and that she was very intense about driving, maybe you can write something about her racing while she's sick/not feeling well but she still wins the race

woo hi again!!! literally no big deal! i hope ur internship is going well, it’s awesome that you’re doing one!! but yeah literally real life is always the priority as much as i’d also like to spend all my time on here lol. but anyway yay the strawberry is super cute 🍓🥺

and YES lol driver!reader is consuming my thoughts right now. i have other things i should be writing instead of this but i smashed this out in a few days😭 i decided not to make it a win because i have a thing brewing for driver!readers first win and i didn’t want to use up all my ideas for that. anyway!!! as usual thank u for the ask and pls enjoyyy 🤗

OP: extraordinary machine

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: you push yourself to your limits. (also sorry i simply don't know enough technical terms about racing for this to be fully accurate but i hope it works)

word count: 3.4k+

Here is a fact— you’ve got a fever of 39.4 degrees.

Here is another, indisputable fact— you’re racing in Imola today.

The fever had come on overnight after a persistent tickle in your throat all weekend. A mildly sore throat had turned rapidly to a snotty nose, full body chills and sweat pouring off you like you’d just run a marathon. You’re wearing a puffer jacket over your racing suit and it’s twenty-nine degrees out. You feel freezing, you feel delirious, and you’re eating Sour Patch Kids by the handful to keep the sugar rush going. Your race engineer, Rachel, keeps telling you that it’s okay if you can’t race. George can step in, I promise. You keep telling her I’m fine. I’m fine. I can race. But the expression on her face says she doesn’t believe you.

You’re telling practically everyone who’ll listen that you’re getting in that fucking car today. Rachel, George, your mum who keeps calling. Lewis keeps looking at you like you’re about to keel over and die and you want to scream at him you did this! Brazil 2015. You had a fever. You got on the podium. If I can’t do this and you can, what does that mean? But you don’t because that’s your 39.4-degree fever talking and this isn’t about being better than Lewis. It’s about knowing without a doubt that you can still get in that car and race your ass off.

Your phone keeps buzzing with texts from Susie that reassure you that you’d be disappointing no one at all if you had to let George take over this race. You’re not letting down women everywhere and you’re not letting down the team. I know Susie, you keep saying, but I’m still racing.

You know you’ve got to convince Toto when Rachel starts a hurried conversation with George and he starts grabbing his fireproofs like it’s a sure thing he’ll be driving in your place. Bundled up in your coat like it’s the middle of winter, you stomp over to Toto’s office and barge in.

“I’m racing,” you tell him without any preamble.

His head snaps to look at you, expression only mildly surprised— not that you would even notice if you didn’t spend so much time around him. He gives you a once over, eyes lingering pointedly on your jacket and then he raises his eyebrows, “It is twenty-nine degrees outside.”

You suck your teeth in frustration, “I know. The car will be hot. I can race.”

He frowns.

You plead, “Toto. Do not take me out of that car. I can do this.”

He shakes his head, “I can see you sweating from here. You’re not well.”

You shake your head frantically, ignoring how your vision starts spinning, “Let me race. If I fuck up you can put George in the car for Monaco. If I fuck up you can even replace me. I don’t care. Just let me drive today.”

Toto’s face pinches in the way it does when he’s considering something, you can see cogs turning in his head as he evaluates what you’ve said and decides if he should listen to it.

He sighs, “I am not putting that kind of ultimatum on you,” your heart stutters and stops in your chest, and you hold your breath, “Okay. Against my better judgement, I will let you race today.”

You let out an audible breath, it edges out into a sob that makes your aching body curl into itself. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes for a moment to suppress the urge to give in to your fever. It would be easier to give up, it would be easier to let George take your seat for the race so you could crawl into bed and cry the fever out. But none of this has ever been easy for you. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, you won’t forfeit a race and let people say you took the easy way out.

You look up. Toto looks concerned.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

You practically stumble onto the asphalt before the national anthem, passing your coat off to Rachel while your trainer wipes your forehead with a towel as if you’ve just finished a full-body workout. Your shoulders feel tense, you can’t stand up straight without shuddering so you’re hunched over awkwardly hoping it doesn’t come off looking too strange.

People are still milling about, setting things up while the drivers assemble. You don’t really notice on account of the fever state you’re in, but you end up standing between the McLaren boys. You must brush against Oscar because he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a line and his eyes wide like a puppy dog. You get lost in them a little— because of the fever. Definitely.

“Dude,” Oscar says to you, “You’re really hot.”

On your other side, Lando breaks into a fit of laughter. You frown, your brain trying the puzzle through the sentence. You feel foggy, your eyes feel heavy. You need more Sour Patch Kids, or a shot of espresso, or five Red Bulls. Max could swing it for you.

Oscar leans past you and swats at Lando’s shoulder, “She’s burning up, stupid.”

Lando’s laughter pauses, and he says seriously, “Oh shit.”

Suddenly, you’re being twisted around and you’re wincing at the contact on your shoulder that makes it ache even more. Lando puts a hand on your forehead and then immediately rips it away.

“Eugh. You’re sweaty.”

The back of Oscar’s hand replaces it. You twist away, brushing it off.

“You’ve got a fever,” he tells you, his voice thick with concern for you, “Have you told anyone? Does Toto know? Lewis?”

Instead of answering you press a hand over your eyes and crack your neck, trying to work through some of the stiffness in your back. You roll your shoulders and stand up as straight as possible, pushing through that aching, sickly feeling that runs through your whole body. When you finally drag your hand from your face— a thin sheen of sweat coming with it— Oscar is staring at you with a deep-set frown on his mouth. At his shoulder, Lando looks at you with a markedly less severe, but still concerned, expression.

“I’m fine, Oscar,” you insist.

You’re not. He knows you’re not. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to seem weak. Not barely thirty minutes before the race. You can’t have either of them thinking you’d be easy for an overtake or that you’ll back out of a fight first. Off the track, fine— you’ve been vulnerable and honest with both of them at times. On the track is a different story. This is Formula One. You’re not here to make friends. They are not here to make friends.

“Mm,” Oscar hums, “Pretty sure you’re not.”

“You’re sweating bullets,” Lando adds, “Can see it from here.”

Something white-hot and pissed off flares up your spine. Oscar is not this kind of person, even on track; but the suspicion that he’s just trying to eliminate you as competition rises anyway. You think it because if the situation were flipped, you’d be weighing the pros and cons of having a sick driver on the track. Their weaknesses, what it means if they’re distracted. It doesn’t make you a good person, but you’re already pretty sure you aren’t one.

“I am fine,” you bite.

Oscar’s expression drops. Into something not quite offended… accepting, maybe? Resigned? It closes off to you, is what you mean. That’s fine, you’re trying to close yourself off to him. You’re re-drawing a line that you’ve been crossing without a thought for at least two years now. You’re not here to make googly eyes at Oscar and let him put his hand on your fever-ridden forehead and have him reprimand out-of-line, so-called professionals for you. You’re here to get in that car every Sunday and put your life on the line for a shiny trophy and fucking glory. Even if you’ve got a fever. Even if you’ve got a weird crush on Oscar Piastri.

“I’m racing,” you add in a different tone, feeling as if you’ve been a bit harsh on a well-meaning Oscar, even if you mean what you’re thinking.

Oscar nods, and says, “Okay,” in a way that really means, ‘If you say so, then it is’.

In the car, on the tarmac, sitting in your starting grid position, you’re shitting bricks.

Your cheeks are squeezed tight into your helmet, you can feel sweat, slick and soaking through your balaclava. Your arms hurt, your legs hurt, your ass hurts where it’s pressed into the seat. You’re not crying, but your mouth— hidden away by your helmet— is open like you’re about to. Set into a grimace that you breathe raggedly out of. Toto says something over the radio before the lights go out, you don’t hear it. You’re too busy regretting how earnestly you’d begged him to let you race. It would have been better if George had taken over. It might have been better if you’d passed out during the national anthem so you really had no choice but to sit it out. No one could say you weren’t committed to this sport if that had happened. They’d have plenty to say about women and their weak constitutions though.

You’re on autopilot when the lights go out. One second you’re freaking out like it’s your first time in a car, the next second everything is fading into background noise and you’re fighting a Ferrari and a McLaren for your original grid position. Twenty of you tear down the straight to turn two and you find yourself slotting easily into what you think is P4. Ferrari— not the same one— in front of you. Your mirrors reveal the McLaren behind you. It’s Oscar, you’re sure. You can tell by the way he sticks to your ass. Every nudge of the car you make he makes with you.

You press the radio button, “That Piastri behind?”

Crackle, “Yeah.”

“Knew it. He’s up my butt, Rach.”

“Okay. Go faster then. Not sure what to tell you.”

You make a face. You weren’t looking for sarky advice, you were trying to commiserate. You press the button and make a vaguely mocking neh-neh noise that gets a laugh and then radio silence because you’re supposed to be fucking concentrating. Which, okay, fair.

You press the throttle, done with trying to manage your tyres for the moment and taking Rachel’s comment as permission. You tear away from Oscar, stopping his fight to overtake you through the chicane in its tracks. You start slowly gaining on the Ferrari in front of you, its red rear wing growing closer and closer.

“Sainz in front?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rachel confirms before rattling off some lap times when you ask for them.

By lap thirty-something, you’re on Sainz’s ass like Oscar was on yours. You’re fighting him through every chicane, threatening him on the straights and generally behaving in a way that you know for a fact is putting him on edge. But Carlos isn’t giving up P3 without a fight.

A safety car goes out around lap forty, and you pit. Everyone ahead of you does as well. Oscar doesn’t, Oscar is lucky to have gone in earlier. Rachel tells you he’d made up four places after being forced to box for some tyre issue. You feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy swirl in your chest as you all file into a discordant line behind the safety car.

Verstappen leads the pack, as per usual. Then Oscar, Sainz and you. Leclerc is behind you, then Lando. You’re in P4, right where you started and right where you’ve been fucking sitting the entire race so far. twenty-five laps to at least make it onto the podium. Then you’ll be happy. Or not quite happy, you’d need pole for that. Content. You’d be content.

Max starts weaving. The safety car goes off and Max keeps you all ready and waiting until the exact millisecond that he decides the race can properly begin again. You hate when he does this— you know that’s exactly why. Eventually, finally, he gets going.

You have to run defence like crazy for a few laps to keep Leclerc behind you until everything is warmed up. The gap widens as you drive. At some point, you stop worrying about the Monégasque so much and focus your attention on car fifty-five like your life depends on it. The laps fly by as time ticks on. Twenty-five to go, twenty, fifteen, ten. You’re back on Sainz’s rear wheel, a gap of 0.2 to 0.3 that’s been consistent throughout this last stretch of the race. You’re watching him like a hawk, waiting for the smallest slip-up to take advantage of. Somewhere you can push, somewhere he’s weak. It’s hard— he’s covering all his bases. Not giving you an inch so you can’t take a mile.

You’re closing in on sixty-four laps— with only three to go— when he gives you that fucking inch. It’s in the first chicane. His wheel locks up, and he jerks the car slightly the wrong way, something like that. You get in his space and you push and he backs out first. You press down on the throttle and rocket past him, shouting FUCK! FUCK YES! to yourself.

P3. P3. God, you hope it’s P3.

You press the talk button, “Rach?”

“Yes, P3,” she barks, “Fucking, focus. Three laps to go.”

Those last three laps of Imola are some of the hardest of your life. Defending against Carlos is a task, of course, but it’s not even that. The sickness starts to creep back into your awareness as the adrenaline that had hit its peak during the overtake starts to subside. Two laps to go and you’re remembering the fever again. The sweat soaking your hair and streaking down the back of your neck. Your whole body is on fire and it aches everywhere. It feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the inside of your skull. You want so badly to close your eyes and drift away to sleep, but the car is flying through the air demanding your attention with the way it thuds against the track. You’ve got one lap to go and Carlos is on you like white on rice. You can’t afford to make a mistake until you’re firmly over that finish line.

So you don’t. You grit your teeth and you refuse.

Carlos is downright reckless in the last chicane, he tries to bait you by moving to one side and pushing but you’re not going to fall for something like that even if you’re near delirious from the 39.4-degree fever. Though surely it’s higher now, the car temp can’t be helping. You hardly realise you’ve crossed the finish line because you’re thinking so hard about how lightheaded you feel. On instinct, you slow down to a safe speed as Oscar’s McLaren enters your vision, but you think your toes have pins and needles and there’s some feeling tingling up into your shoulders. You blink hard and take a long sip of water so you can make it to the pits before your head starts to spin.

Crackle, “Where are you going? That was P3.”

“Huh?” you realise you’re following the other drivers instead of heading into the pits where you’re supposed to go, “Shit. Sorry.”

You edge back as carefully as you can, avoiding other cars that pass by, lucky you’ve not overshot too far so you can turn into the pits and park your car in front of the P3 sign without going around the entire track. That would be embarrassing. Or that would be more embarrassing than how disgusting you’re going to look when you take your helmet and balaclava off.

Toto, Rachel and a few of your engineers are there to meet you at the barricade when you clamber out of the car, unsteady on your feet. Rachel’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries her best to smile at you, trying to put on a brave face even though you can tell she’s concerned you’re going to keel over. You brace yourself with a hand against the gate and tear your helmet off, then your balaclava. You’ve never been so fast to put a cap on your head, trying to cover the sweaty mess that is your hair right now.

“That was phenomenal work,” Rachel says, reaching to put a hand on your burning hot bicep, “You look fucking terrible, though.”

You suck in a ragged breath and you nod in agreement, trying to keep the black tinging your vision from taking over completely. 

“Get her something to drink,” you hear Toto bark, though it comes to your ears, muffled and staticky.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Until you’re not and your sweaty hand is slipping against the guardrail and your vision is fading into darkness and you’re falling face first into a metal railing. And, and, someone’s got their arm around your middle and you’re not on the ground with your face in the asphalt. You blink, hot tears— from what you assume is exhaustion— burning your eyelids. The arm around your middle is covered in something orange and black… Oscar. It’s Oscar who’s got you propped up, held firm into his body so your legs don’t collapse underneath you. The two of you sway and stumble for a second as you gain your footing back, your vision returning to normal, the buzzing in your ears going away.

“You’re good,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine, you attribute it to your current state.

You remember the cameras that are on all of you right now. You try not to look panicked as you step away from him. You try to do it calmly and not frantically like you so want to. Toto has some electrolyte drink held out right in your face and you take it, chugging half of it straight away while you swivel around to face Oscar. You nod, feeling slightly better, but gripping the guardrail tight so as not to repeat earlier.

“Thanks,” you try a smile, but it’s just turning into a grimace because you feel like shit.

Oscar shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“Great driving out there.”

His eyebrow goes up, touching the curl of his hair that peeks out from his cap.

“You’re kidding?” he says, tone laced with amusement.

You frown, which is much easier, “No. You drove great.”

He makes a face like ‘yes, obviously’, but somehow does it in a humble and endearing way that you find you like a little too much. It leaves you confused as to his point.

“No,” he scoffs, “Okay, yes. What I mean is that you just got P3 with a raging fever.”

You purse your lips, countering, “You don’t know I have a fever.”

His tongue darts out to wet his top lip, hiding the small smile that threatens on his face.

He shrugs, “Bit obvious, unfortunately.”

You roll your eyes. You think what he means is it’s a bit obvious because you look like absolute death. There’s probably sweat rolling off you in buckets, your cap is jammed on your head and your hair is probably sticking out at crazy angles. There were dark circles under your eyes before you left for the track this morning, they’re probably ten times worse now. He might also mean it’s obvious from the way your skin is burning hot, like touching a radiator in the middle of winter. Or, perhaps, the way you’d passed out into his arms a few minutes earlier.

You suck your teeth, “Well. I told you I was racing today.”

Oscar nods, biting the inside of his lip, “Yeah. You did.”

There’s more that neither of you are saying. A conversation that you’re trying desperately to have with prolonged eye contact, small little smiles and breaths out through the nose. You think it might be ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘You’re very impressive and I’m going a little bit crazy about it’. That’s how you feel at least, somewhere in between the fever chills and the urge you’re suppressing to curl into a ball on the tarmac. This is okay, you think. You don’t have to be Oscar’s sworn enemy just because you’re both chasing the win. You can let him worry about you, but make sure he understands he can’t stop you from taking the things that you want. You can say things that mean other things and Oscar can smile at you like it’s something private for just the two of you.

You can be happy with that. Or not quite happy. Content.

🏎️ song inspo (fiona apple my Beloved) -> https://open.spotify.com/track/5h9Iek7Hp9wayRt7fBp7Ab?si=9PnuH5CDSC-qTurLPGiTwg

💫 fill out this form if you want to be added to my tag list: @clowngirlsstuff @leclercsluvs @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @papayamusha @mvk1ma

[silentsneezes]

Heyy me again… ahahah

Do you have any silco with allergies hc’s or maybe a k!nk Silco/Vander Zaundads fic?

Totally asking this with normal intentions, completely not obsessed or anything!

(Im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i love your writing)

thank you anon!! trust me when i say i'm also gnawing at the bars of my enclosure... so here's almost 3k of sick v/ander and kink s/ilco

i'll probably continue this in the future, but between university and life things i haven't had as much time to write... so we'll see

anyways, this is set pre-everything in the show. you could read it as an au if you want!

The Last Drop on a Saturday is no fucking joke. Vander knows that full well, always double checking his list of opening tasks to ensure things run smoothly. Only a few hours after opening, the dimly lit, smoke-filled haven is already filled to its capacity. Earlier that day, there had been a boxing match held in a nearby arena, and it’s safe to say people are still riding that high. Vander picks up on arguments over bets that were won or lost, prideful drunkards boasting about how they’d been rooting for the champion all along.

The bar practically roars with the infectious excitement, only encouraged by the drinks the patrons continue to slam back. Vander doesn’t mind, he’s quite pleased with how popular his bar is, especially on nights where boxing matches occur. Everyone needs a good drink after a match, he supposes. Plus, the influx in business never hurts– people typically become more generous tippers the drunker they get. 

Vander works mindlessly as he pours drink after drink, zoning out to the sounds of raucous laughter, the clink of glass against wood, and the quiet kshhhh of the keg. The conversations are nothing more than a full-on-chorus, which has its pros and cons. 

On one hand, it allows Vander to zone out to the constant noise, letting himself work without second thought.

On the other hand, Vander feels like fucking shit. He’d been coming down with something the past couple of days, but he’d figured it wasn’t anything a few DayQuil couldn’t fix. Now, he’s beginning to realize that he was sorely mistaken in his initial dismissal of the cold. His usual charming grin doesn’t come as easily tonight, and when he wipes his brow, it’s not just due to the heat of the room. His skin is coated in a feverish sheen, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed as he forces himself to work through his rising fever. 

The frequenters of the bars notice– at least those sober enough to– but they’ve seen this before. Vander’s tough. He’s the kind of guy who keeps his bar open for better or for worse, so when he’s sick, they just give him a look of silent understanding: he’ll be fine, he always is. 

As ‘fine’ as Vander might be, his movements are dulled by fever. He keeps moving, keeps working—filling mugs, passing shots, refilling drinks– functioning as if he’s on autopilot. His work is only interrupted as he hears the familiar drawl of his friend’s voice. 

“Is anybody home?” Silco asks with a slight smirk, looking Vander up and down as he takes a seat on the barstool closest to the sick man, observing his absent expression. Vander opens his mouth to reply, pausing momentarily to clear his throat before gruffly responding, “very funny, Silco,” sarcastically. He starts making Silco’s drink wordlessly, knowing exactly what the other likes. Vander doesn’t bother filling the silence between the two of them, letting the steady roar of auditory input wash over him. 

“Long day?” Silco questions, frowning as a nearby customer lets out a howl of laughter at his own joke, “I’ll bet you 20 gold coins he soils himself by the end of the night.�� 

Vander finds it somewhat amusing how Silco always seems to take issue with the other patrons of the bar, as if he finds himself somewhat above this crowd. “I’d be an idiot to take you up on that,” Vander says with a tired grin, his lips barely curling upwards as he leans in, resting his weight on the bartop. He places the drink in front of Silco with a heavy thud, the glass almost too solid in his grip, as if it’s an anchor to keep him from slipping under the noise and fatigue. “You know how they get after boxing matches.”

“Oh, do I,” Silco replies, the words clipped, his voice carrying an immense judgement of those customers who lack any semblance of manners or public decency. He doesn’t like them, doesn’t trust them, but he does like Vander. 

Vander struggles to think up a response, his usual charm and banter replaced with a steady painful thrum threatening to become a migraine. The noise of the bar presses against his skull like a vice, and just as he finally manages to think up an adequate response, he feels it coming. A tickle in his nose, faint at first, but enough to make his breath catch as it buzzes through his sinuses. 

At first he tries to fight it, swiping at his nose roughly with the backside of his hand. His other hand searches his pockets for a rag, a handkerchief, anything. Unfortunately for him, the sneeze builds quickly. His eyes are forced to scrunch shut as his chest swells with an urgent, “hhHHHH-” and for a half-second, everything around him goes blurry, the pressure in his sinuses making his head swim, “hHHRRZZSCHHH’HUw!!”

Vander turns away from the bartop just in time, snapping forwards into his elbow with a resounding sneeze, one that grates his throat enough as to where he has to blink away a few tears. Silco watches with rapt attention, his abdomen pooling with hot attraction as he observes Vander’s broad frame nearly bend itself in two with the force of the sneeze. 

“Bless you,” Silco purrs, his voice low and sultry. The blessing practically rolls off of his tongue, and yet Vander knows it’s not just out of politeness. You see, Silco doesn’t just bless anyone. For him, offering a blessing is somewhat of a privilege, something one earns through continuous affection, and he and Vander are nothing if not affectionate. 

“I’ve got the whole damn package today—head full of cement and a nose that thinks it’s spring,” Vander mutters, barely able to keep the irritation out of his voice. Had he not known about Silco’s kink, he would’ve been entirely fed up with his body's need to sneeze. Except there’s a sliver of him that can’t help but relish the fact that he can make Silco squirm so easily. If he has to feel so utterly miserable, someone might as well enjoy it, right?

And he is miserable, nothing short of it. Silco, however, seems to be basking in Vander’s sickness, finding it difficult to resist the sight of his friend turned fuck-buddy turned… whatever it is they are now. 

“Why is it you insist on working when you’re sick?” Silco questions, knowing full-well the stubborn answer he’s about to receive– it’s the same every time. 

Except Vander doesn’t answer, letting Silco’s question hang in the air as he raises a hand to his nose. It’s back again, that bothersome, tantalizing itch that’s been wreaking havoc on his nose all night, “hhHHH’uh-”

At the sound of Vander’s hitch, Silco prepares himself for the imminent sneeze. Vander has never been one to have dramatic build ups when he’s sick– though allergies are an entirely different feat– rather, his sneezes come on quickly with one to two hitches beforehand. 

Unable to find a rag in time, Vander settles for cupping a broad hand over his nose and mouth, “hHHMMPH’DSSXCHHhew!” The sneeze is barely muffled against his palm, and Vander can feel moisture threatening to slip through his fingers. He pinches his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, gathering the residual mess and moving to wash his hands. 

When Vander returns to the bartop, he sees Silco, his gaze intensely focused, waiting with that unsettling calm, as if he could pounce at any moment. Had the countertop not been separating them, Vander is certain Silco would be draping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. And god does he want that. 

Just as Vander moves to prop himself against the bartop again, he hears a drunken, “Oi! Vander!” and groans internally, straightening up and snapping out of his exhausted haze. The woman, a regular frequenter of the bar, leans against the other side of the counter with a casual air, “Get me something strong, but nice. I’ve got a lady to impress,” she says with a smirk. Usually, Vander would have the energy to engage in some sort of playful banter, perhaps asking the customer as to who she’s pursuing tonight. Instead, he rattles off a few drink options, giving her a sideways glance as she chooses the strongest of the drinks he’d proposed, “You sure? It’s got one hell of a kick.”

The customer dismisses his warning with a wave of her hand and a chuckle, “I’m feeling lucky today.”

“Liquid luck,” Silco tuts almost inaudibly from his seat, though it goes unheard by anyone aside from Vander, “what a foolish concept.”

Vander’s lips curl into a slight smirk at the sound of Silco’s words, but he forces himself to maintain focus. He has a job to do. With a sigh, Vander grabs a glass, still feeling the steady ache that only a cold can instill. As he’s about to start mixing, he feels that nagging sensation in his nose return, the familiar tickle building once again. He grimaces, trying to hold it back for the sake of not sneezing into a customer's drink, but his body has a different plan. His breath hitches involuntarily, forcing him to pivot away from the countertop without even setting the glass down first. He draws in a final, urgent breath before snapping forwards and spraying the tiled floor with an uncovered, “hHHRRRSSXCHHHh’eHw!” 

As the sneeze fades, Vander stays still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, his body still catching up with the sudden burst of pressure. He forces himself to stand upright, tending to the moisture clinging to his septum with his sleeve. He’d usually have a bit more decorum when it comes to covering and utilizing his sleeve as a tissue, for the sake of germs moreso than any feeling of embarrassment, but he’s too fucking tired tonight. 

“Salud,” the woman blesses absentmindedly, watching as Vander composes himself enough to make her drink, “you look sick as a dog,” she comments. Vander just continues mixing the drink, replying with a halfhearted, “that’s never stopped me before.”

“Touche.” Luckily, the woman leaves the conversation at that, exchanging the drink for a few gold pieces and making her way across the bar back to the person she’s trying to impress. 

“She’s right, you look terrible,” Silco says matter-of-factly, drawing Vander’s attention back to him. His fingers trail along the rim of his now empty glass, his expression smug as he receives an eye-roll in response. 

Vander doesn’t have time to reply as another customer approaches the bar, and he internally curses as he turns away from the one person in the bar he actually wants to see right now. His head throbs, the dull ache in his throat turning into a tight, bothersome burning sensation. As he prepares a round of shots, every movement feels slower than his last, his limbs growing heavier as the evening progresses. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, there’s a lull in drink orders, and Vander has the opportunity to return to his conversation with Silco. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, instead saying, “you’ve got a handkerchief, no?”

“I always do,” Silco replies effortlessly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he registers where this is going. Vander extends his hand wordlessly, becoming increasingly frustrated with his nose running like a faucet. 

“Use your words,” Silco tuts, though his eyes flick between Vander’s outstretched hand and his nose, reddened and irritated after being berated all day. 

“Silco,” Vander huffs huskily, evidently too exhausted to tolerate any sort of teasing, “give it here.”

“That’s no way to treat a customer.”

“Bullshit, you’re not a customer.”

“Hm, then what am I?” Silco asks, enjoying this far more than he should. His hand slips into the inner pocket of his vest, extracting his crimson red handkerchief from its resting place. He keeps it hidden in his lap, waiting for the perfect moment to submit to Vander’s request. 

“A brat.” 

Vander’s hand remains outstretched, waiting for Silco to drop the dominant act and give in. Fuck me Vander mentally curses as the itch swells in his nose again, forcing his wide nostrils to flare in protest. It’s like Silco was waiting for this moment—the vulnerability of Vander, flushed and slightly out of breath, his hitches almost an invitation. 

“I know you always hhhHave one on you. Give it to m-hHHH-me dammit,” Vander’s previously annoyed tone is replaced with one of urgency. Both he and Silco know damn well he can’t hold back for shit. 

Silco watches, waiting until the very last second before pressing the handkerchief into Vander’s palm. His fingers brush across the calloused skin of Vander’s hand, which is nearly twice the size of his. Vander clutches the handkerchief, turning on his heel and doubling over as a sneeze tears through him, “hHHHGGSXCHHH’Hh’ugh!”

“Bless you,” Silco purrs once again, silently cursing the countertop separating him from the sick man. He can feel his arousal making itself known, pressing against the tight confines of his pants, “You’ll be making that up to me, you know I don’t share–” he begins, but Vander cuts him off. 

“I’ve been pudting on a show for you all nighd. Don’d be so greedy,” he mumbles huskily, the congestion in his voice dulling certain consonants. Vander gives his nose a strangled blow. It’s unsuccessful at first, eliciting a huff of frustration from the man. With both hands holding the handkerchief over his nose, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the next attempt. The second noseblow is much more productive, clearing his airways as best they can be with a cold ravaging his nose.

“That’s better,” Vander acknowledges, tucking the– already soiled– handkerchief into his back pocket and moving to wash his hands again. Silco, having been observing Vander’s every move, shifts to relieve some of the pressure in his pants. 

“It’s a shame you have to work,” he comments idly, knowing full well that Vander could’ve called someone in to cover his shift, “I’ve heard a good fuck is quite the cure-all for colds.” 

Silco’s bluntness never fails to catch Vander’s attention. People typically shy away from expressing their kinks, especially one as bizarre as sneezing, but Silco treats it as he does anything that can bring him sexual gratification: without shame– though don’t be mistaken, he’s eager to indulge in humiliation when given the chance. 

Vander knows exactly what Silco is alluding to, weighing the benefits of closing early or calling someone to take his place. His stubbornness and grit can only last so long, it seems, as he leans heavily against the bartop again. 

Grinning as he recognizes the slight defeat in Vander’s expression, Silco presses on, “Would it be so terrible to take a night off? I’d stay, of course, to attend to your needs.”

Vander looks up, his eyes traveling from the smirk on Silco’s face to his slightly unbuttoned top– had his chest been so visible before, so appealing? His view of Silco’s slim waist is blocked by the counter, but he’s almost certain Silco’s hard to some extent; it really only takes a few sneezes to get him going. After all, Vander’s are his favorite. 

“Fine,” he agrees stubbornly, glancing at the clock. Typically, The Last Drop would stay open well into the night and through the earliest hours of the morning, but it’s only 11:30 and Vander feels like dead weight. He leans down, searching for the bar-phone he keeps next to the especially expensive liquors. Upon finding it, he dials an employee's number despite the guilt ringing through his mind. He’s not one to give up easily, and he’s certainly given one hell of a fight to make it through this shift, but the promise of a quieter room and Silco’s attention is enough to sway him. 

“Jay? I’m sorry to ask, but–,” Vander pauses as his breath hitches, the itch suddenly returning with a vengeance. He holds the receiver as far away as possible, ducking to the side and clamping his other hand over his nose, “hhHHHGDTSCHHH’huew!” 

Apparently, Jay could still hear the utter desperation of the expulsion from over the phone– and was left to imagine the mess it made, and trust, it was messy– and is quick to say, “I’ll be there in twenty. Try not to drop dead by then.”

TBC…

as always, any reblogs, tags, and comments are very much appreciated!! i experimented with a different writing style with this fic, so any feedback is appreciated as well :3

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i’ve got you

pair: Tom Holland x reader

summary: Tom taking care of y/n(she/her) whilst she's sick

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

You woke up to a stuffy nose, a sore throat, and the worst headache you'd ever felt. As you tried to get out of bed, your head spun, forcing you to collapse back onto the pillows. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Babe, you alright?” Tom’s voice, soft and laced with concern, drifted from the doorway. You forced one eye open and saw him standing there, still in his pajamas, hair tousled. “Feel like death,” you croaked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tom's face fell into a frown, and in two strides, he was at your side. He knelt down beside the bed, his hand immediately moving to your forehead to check your temperature. You could feel the coolness of his palm against your burning skin, and it felt like the best thing in the world.

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up,” he said, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “I think you’ve got a fever.”

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure him, but it came out more like a pitiful whimper. Tom looked unconvinced, his eyes narrowing as he took in your flushed cheeks and tired eyes.

“Stay here,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.” Before you could protest, he was already out the door.

You closed your eyes, sinking back into the pillows, trying to ignore the pounding in your head. A few minutes later, you heard Tom’s footsteps approaching, and then the cool feeling of a damp washcloth was placed gently on your forehead. You sighed in relief, the coolness soothing your fever.

“There you go,” Tom murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. He brushed his fingers through your hair, and you leaned into his touch, grateful for the comfort.

He stayed by your side, holding your hand and softly stroking your hair. After a while, he got up to make you some tea, insisting that it would help soothe your throat. You could hear him bustling around the kitchen, boiling water and clinking mugs. The sound of his voice humming a tune was like a lullaby, and you felt your eyes getting heavy.

Tom returned with a steaming mug, carefully helping you sit up. You took a small sip, the warmth spreading through your chest. Tom watched you closely, his hand on your back, ready to catch the mug if you got too weak to hold it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, managing a small smile despite how awful you felt.

“Anything for you, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He set the mug on the bedside table and pulled the covers up to your chin. “Now, I want you to get some rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, too tired to argue, and snuggled into the blankets. Tom lay down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his presence warm and comforting. You felt safe, cocooned in the blankets with him by your side.

As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel Tom’s fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. His voice was a soft whisper in your ear, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

“Just rest, darling. I’ve got you.”

Tom was true to his word, staying by your side all day. He fetched medicine, made sure you were drinking enough water, and kept you warm and comfortable. Whenever you woke up, he was there, ready with a reassuring smile and a gentle touch.

By the evening, your fever had broken, and you felt a little better. Tom celebrated by ordering your favorite takeout, even though he insisted on feeding you so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. You didn’t mind, enjoying the way he fussed over you.

“Feeling any better?” he asked, settling back down on the bed next to you after dinner.

“A little,” you admitted, leaning against his shoulder. “Thanks to you.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I’d do anything to make you feel better. You know that, right?”

You nodded, a wave of warmth filling your chest. You were so grateful to have him, someone who cared so deeply for you, who would drop everything to make sure you were okay.

“I love you,” you murmured, feeling sleep tugging at you again.

“I love you too,” Tom replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Now get some sleep, love. I’ll be right here.”

With that, you drifted off, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat and the feel of his arms wrapped around you.

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 30, 2013 Although it will probably take me forever, I’m going to try to catch up on the last few days after the both of us suffered through one of the worst illnesses we’ve ever had since meeting each other nearly 20 years ago. Damn, was that one seriously aggressive flu! I haven’t been that sick in over a decade. I’m not used to being sick, period. Since I quit smoking all I’ve had, for the most part, was ear and teeth pain and allergies.

Before I get into it let me go back and print a little retraction. I wasn’t quite right in saying that Andy treated a homeless woman to dinner, so he told me. She actually had an apartment. She just didn’t have a man to support her and her kids. Well, unless she’s disabled, she better hope to find a good-paying job because most women still get better support from a 5-year-old bra than a man.

Another thing is that I had to stop the Alli because that “bug bite” turned out to be an outbreak of hives. I have 3 big nasty raised red bumps on my inner right forearm that are sort of similar in size and shape to Cheerios, plus a smaller one on my stomach and one on my jaw. They itch like crazy and one is oozing. I don’t think they’re infected, though. The first one I got that I thought was a bug bite seems to be healing. It mentioned on the bottle to stop taking the pills if you experience itching but never said anything about bullous bumps, rashes or acne. Sure enough, though, when I checked online, I found others complained of the same side effect, but mostly on the face.

So once again Jodi gets punished for trying to find something to help her help herself lose weight. Being sick has taken over where the Alli left off and now I’m 143 pounds. I wanted to get to 110 but would have settled for 120. Instead, I’m going to end up at 300 if my metabolism gets any slower. Oh well. How often do I get what I want in life?

Because I’ve been too sick to write I may not remember all the details, but if I ever wished Tom and I had a nurse or someone helping us out it was when we were sick. Fortunately, though, he was a day ahead of me, so I was able to help him before the worst of it hit me, and he was able to help me, too. Surviving the storm together makes me so grateful to know we have each other for things like this. It would’ve been a million times worse to have to go through it alone. He is the most wonderful, most amazing person on earth!

He woke up sick Friday morning. Saturday night, I think it was, as I was falling asleep I noticed I had a tickle in my throat and began to cough, too. But I was too tired to drag my ass up out of bed to scald my throat with hot tea or something. Sure enough, I woke up the next day with a sore throat, and a bad cough and was achy as hell. After I showered and scorched my throat with hot coffee I thought I would be okay. Wrong! As I’ve learned, I can will away colds, but not flues. Just like Tom, I became so weak and all I wanted to do was sleep or just lay in bed. I could barely eat and my lungs were so congested. I had a bit of wheezing but the worst part was definitely the cough. Oh, how it hurt like hell to cough! Every time I coughed it would feel like a cat reached down my throat and clawed at it and tasted just awful. It was horrible. I couldn’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time and whenever I’d manage to pull myself up out of bed to try to do things, I’d be exhausted within 20 minutes and would have to lie back down again. Both of us had fevers of up to 101°, but I didn’t have the runs like Tom did. He called out of work on Monday. Fortunately, he has tons of time off. Tomorrow he’ll be taking off so we can both go to the eye doctor.

Just when I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever feel human again, my throat and cough began to improve yesterday, and today’s the first time I’m able to be up and about for a little longer, even if it means getting my period a week early (yeah, I’ve had one screwy cycle lately). I even did a load of laundry and am airing the place out a bit. My head is still stuffed up so badly that it’s dulled my sense of taste, smell and sound. Yesterday I had allergy-like symptoms with a stuffy nose and sneezing, but most of this flu was in the throat and lungs. It was one long, hard road! Even the rats were worried about me. I was afraid they’d catch what we had and die, but they’ve proven once again just how tough rats really are, something I love about them that most people hate, and that’s the fact that rats are one seriously tough animal to beat down! Sugar was wheezing a bit, though. When I finally felt well enough to go near them, they were all happy and ran up to me as if to say, “Yay! Mom’s back!” I hated to neglect them for those few days, but it was better to be safe than sorry. I let them run around loose a bit this morning. When I get more of my strength back, they’ll be out and about as usual.

We usually do our weekly grocery shopping on the weekends, but since we were sick, it got delayed. Tom decided to try this service Raley’s has where you load up your cart online and they gather up what you want in the store. Then you go and pick it up and pay. He loved it. They were super-fast, too. I figured the person gathering the items would be some 18-year-old kid that’d fuck up half the order, but nope. They substituted a couple of similar items that they were out of, but they did a great job. It’s free for orders of over $100, so maybe we’ll do this more often.

This is the longest I’ve gone without working out and when I finally do get the strength to return to it I’m going to feel so out of shape. :(

Jesse came down to get some chain from his shit pile. I opened the door to see what he was up to and when he spotted me he said hello and asked if everything was okay. I told him we’d been really sick with the flu and he said he heard it was nasty. He heard right!

Despite the dreams and vibes that said big changes were coming in April I don’t see how we can possibly be moving that soon. Too many setbacks. There’s just one thing after another after another. Tom still thinks we will, but I really wonder if something is either trying to stop us from making a mistake that’d make us miserable or if it’s trying to prevent us from something good. Nothing up there usually cares to look out for us, so I guess it’s trying to hold us here to block us from something good. That’s what it feels like right now anyway.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 2013 The good news is that Tom’s cold is mild and he has the whole weekend off. The bad is that he’ll need to spend it fixing his heel. Don’t worry, I told him, I know something up there is just trying to hold us back and keep us from moving. I told him months ago to expect all kinds of curveballs to be thrown at us. Unless God decides to drop a meteor on our heads, we WILL get out of here someday. It’s just going to be another year or two. For now, while I dread the next plumbing problem, I enjoy what I will no longer be able to enjoy once we do move – looking out the windows and seeing nothing but nature.

Anyway, Tom’s heel has been hurting him with the way they’ve been working him to death for so long. He needs to get a foot massager (I’ve always wanted one of those anyway), Epson salts, and new insole inserts for his shoes.

Now to bitch about my side effects and tech issues. The Alli’s side effects have finally caught up to me and I’ve had a yellow, oily substance in my number twos and slight staining on my undies. It’s harmless but annoying. I won’t buy any more Alli, though, once this bottle’s gone because I’m not going to lose any more weight.

I am so fed up with various website tech issues (especially on Facebook) that I realize that the fewer accounts I have, the fewer headaches. I can’t do anything anywhere without problems. If any account of mine is going next it’s definitely Facebook. I’m tired of all their changes as well as my messages and friend requests that don’t go through. Now some people can’t even see the things I post on their walls, so I’ve learned. It’s like I can only use some of the sites some of the time. Only problem is that if we really ever do move and we have a normal connection again, and if I ever do return to sweeping, I’m going to need a Facebook account because most sweeps are conducted there. That’s the way it was last time I was sweeping anyway.

Gosh, Tom’s cough sounds awful, the poor guy.

Anyway, nothing I’ve done on Facebook is against their TOS, so I know I’m not being blocked from sending messages and friend requests, and I know it’s not only me that’s had this problem. Besides, some messages won’t even go through to friends. But how am I supposed to try to connect with old friends or people like Jan if I can’t get through to them??? It’s frustrating as hell! Also, the site is running so damn slow that that alone is making me not want to use it.

One of my dreams in life was to sue someone if I couldn’t win a lot of money. Well, I got an email about a class action suit against FB. Apparently, I was featured in a Sponsored Story. I don’t know what “story” of mine they featured. Something I liked or shared, I guess. I first thought the claim had been filed due to a breach of privacy, but I guess that instead, it had to do with FB profiting off of stories. Hey, I always did say I felt like I was put here to make other people money and not myself. Like I said, I always wanted to sue someone or some company for big bucks, though this is anything but big bucks. It’d only be up to $10 if I choose to file (and I do) but if too many people file claims, the 20 mil FB set aside for this latest fuck-up of theirs goes to charity. I’m still going to file against their asses anyway. Those sponsored stories and suggested pages forced into my news feed sure are annoying as hell and this was why I left Twitter. Too much shit was being thrown at me that I didn’t want to see. If I want to like pages or read stories, I’ll do it myself.

I don’t know yet if I’m going to dump my FB account or not, but if I do I’ll let my closest friends know and make sure they have my newest email addy…until that one starts returning whatever I sent from it, too.

That’s another thing that’s weird and I don’t know if someone’s fucking with me or if it’s just the usual cyber glitches, but when mail.com returns some of my mail, they say my IP is blocked. But I accidentally sent a message to a friend that went through, and Tom sent me a message. Well, he’s got the same IP, so I don’t get this. Usually, when they block an IP it’s cuz of spam or phishing. But can’t they see that I only send emails to the same few people? I would have noticed if my account had been taken over by a spammer for a while, so I don’t know what to think. I’m just so frustrated that I wonder if just my other email addy and my blogs are all I should have account-wise. It seems the more I try to do online, the more headaches it brings.

Another thing that frustrated me was not being able to remember login info to our bank account so I could add that info to the claim form I started filing online. sighs I almost miss the good old days when life was simpler! For now, I guess I’m going to have to change my existing accounts using mail.com to my other addy, then I’ll shut the bouncing account down.

Just heard from a friend of mine and now I’m yet another step closer to shutting down on FB. Not just due to the glitches, but it’s getting kind of scary there. The latest scam is to set up accounts in people’s names, using their profile pics. Then they add their friends and beg for money. It looks like one of my online besties had that done to her. I friended an account I thought was hers that I was in the “suggested friends” section, but she says she only has one account. I can’t find that account, but I did find another one. I sent her the link. I’ll check for my name regularly so that if someone sets up an account in my name using my info I can report it ASAP.

One has major balls to do this to someone working with the FBI. Goes to show how much they either don’t know right from wrong or simply don’t give a shit what kind of trouble they get their asses in. Impersonating a pig is a serious offense. Impersonating an FBI employee online is no less serious. What’s the matter with people???

A quick reminder before I go. Just because I’m “getting along” with some people doesn’t mean we’re buddies. It just means we’re not having any problems. Period. This also means I would prefer it if you didn’t read my journal even though it’s public, and would like to ask that you please move on. There’s nothing here that should interest you. If you’ve come to see if maybe your name has been mentioned, you’re going to be disappointed. Unless you’re reading backdated entries I’m posting on other sites, but even then you may still be disappointed. Just please move on is all I ask. I can block IPs from my blogs altogether but would like to give people a chance to not visit it on their own before I resort to that.

Tom just got up and is still tired and hungry after 14 hours of sleep. He’s pretty sure he has the flu. He said people were getting sick like crazy at work and dropping like flies. Well, I hope that’s all it is cuz if my husband ever gets seriously ill due to being overworked by that place, I’m going after that company and the people running it. Yes, I just made a genuine threat. So sue me. :)

Later…

My two favorite men, my sister and myself aren’t doing the greatest right now. Tom’s been sleeping a whopping 17 hours due to this flu, only waking twice to eat, pee and drink. If his wife didn’t have a driving phobia she could do the grocery shopping. Tom has never complained, has always accepted me as I am and even said he’s kind of glad I don’t do the shopping regularly cuz I’d be tempted to overspend, but I still feel helpless at times. Oh well. I have what I have and I suppose it’s useless to beat myself up for it. I do my best and contribute in ways that are within my means. My mother (and others) were always quick to condemn me where my shortcomings were concerned and made like they were their problem as well, so I really appreciate people like Tom who love and accept me as I am. I can’t give you a ride, but I’ll tell you what those signs mean if we’re ever in Mexico, Puerto Rico, Spain, Argentina and places like that. Even some in Italy, Brazil and Germany.

Andy wants to get the hell out of Phoenix and never return. As I always said, good things have a way of coming to an end, and Phoenix sure did just that. The whole damn state did. He’s having trouble breathing and feeling let down by “friends.” He at least got to enjoy the warmer weather and was even nice enough to help a homeless woman out by buying her dinner. She didn’t seem to be on drugs or anything. Yeah, as my husband and I proved for a while 6 years ago, not all homeless people are lazy druggies or alkies. Some of them are just getting their asses whipped by the short end of the stick that is too often in the hands of society, fate and God. Well, we may’ve been a victim of the worst economic crisis in the US since the Great Depression for nearly half a decade, but we WILL get out of here someday even though something evil is determined to hold us back. A few setbacks and you figure it’s just life. More than a few and you start to wonder. Like maybe we ARE home. Maybe this is home at least until he retires and maybe THIS is where we’re meant to be. Only we’d kind of like to be where WE want to be, thank you.

My sister’s still upset over having to take oxygen and said that Walter’s going to be emailing me. Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve heard this before. I just want to actually get an email from him! I know he’s done a great job and that doesn’t make me any less appreciative, but I just want to get this done and over with, even if we might not be able to get what we want home-wise no matter how much money we have saved.

We got approved for the credit card we don’t even want, but that’ll help us establish credit. I still worry we’ll just be going from one dump to another but if that dump can be ours, then it’s a better kind of a dump. I don’t see how it could be quite as dumpy as this thing, though. Cali parks don’t even allow mobile homes this old or in this condition. They can be ugly, but they can’t be dumps. Exterior doors like this, bathrooms like this…no fucking way. They inspect everything that’s brought in there and if you even so much as thought of bringing a trailer like this in there they’d laugh you out faster than fast. They want them built like homes, not traditional trailers. But I still don’t expect to have that much more space or niceness.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 25, 2013 Every time I find something that I’m sooo sure will get these extra 20 pounds off, it proves to be a bust. I’m sick of this constant failure with diet and exercise! I work out hard, I watch what I eat, but I never seem to lose more than 5 pounds. I’m naturally heavy due to muscle mass, but I still have more fat to lose. Nonetheless, it seems that 145 is as low as I can go. Time to seriously consider seeing a doctor about what’s keeping the weight on. Diet and exercise with or without Alli should equal more than a 5-pound loss. Or maybe I jumped a pound in water. My boobs are getting sore which is a sign of water retention, and if all is back to normal with my cycle, I’m 12 days away from a period. Seems a bit soon, though, to start getting watery, though I often do.

If I absolutely had to go back in time and keep two subjects out of my blogs it would be any medical and legal issues I’ve had. Hearing people tell me my sleep issue is an excuse to be lazy gets old, and having people defend my perps all in the name of color is unfuckingbelievably insulting as hell. Anyone who knows me knows that if I didn’t really want to work or did something to someone I shouldn’t have done, I’d come out and say so. What can anyone do to me for it, come beat me up? Hey, I’m too lazy to clean the bathroom right now even though I should. Gonna come kick my ass for it? So my point is that I probably won’t divulge any further medical problems I might have in the future. That way people can spare themselves the self-flattery of thinking that I think they have some kind of power over me that could harm me lest I tell the “truth.”

One thing I’m definitely guilty of is being stupid. I mean really stupid! Marie left a comment (saying it makes you wonder, LOL) on my entry where I was wondering who the hell I was talking about missing after a year, and then I realized I had counted the years wrong and it was actually her I was referring to. Duh! She really has changed a lot, though, just like she said.

I noticed I’m getting more “likes” on my MyOpera posts from non-FB friends. Wonder who all the “likers” are?

Interesting dreams last night. My parents were still alive and my sister, nieces and myself were all visiting them. Mom pulled me aside and said it would really cheer Dad up if we could all spend some time with him cuz he was to be spending the next two months in jail, though I don’t know what for. Then I was helping to manage someone’s store (Jan’s?). Love how I can always keep schedules in dreams. Then it occurred to me that Dad would be in custody by now and that I simply couldn’t picture him locked up in a jail cell. I wondered if I should call the jail to see how he was doing.

Tom just got up and might have another cold. Geez, again? :( They better mean it this time when they say the OT is going to back off! Then again, everyone’s sick now except for me. He could kill it, though, if he’d just listen to me and burn his throat with the hottest liquid he can stand. When a cold starts in the throat, that’s the time to kill it.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 2013 Molly updated her blog about how tired she is, but no one left any comments. I noticed that Jackie S is following Aly on FB. Wonder if she knows this and how she feels about it.

I feel both sad and glad for my buddy vacationing in Phoenix, Arizona. I guess it’s okay to mention this, but he can always tell me if he wants anything edited out. I think it’ll be okay, though, cuz I’m not mentioning anything personal. Just that while he’s enjoying the weather there, he’s been bored and saddened by the lack of Latinos in light of the new laws there, and how so many businesses, homes and apartments are empty. Also, there are still beggars and cops everywhere. Ugh, I remember that! Downtown Sacramento has its share of beggars as does any major city, but I remember the pigs being everywhere I would look when I’d be out and about and how it was anything but a fun reminder for one who’d been run through the wringer by a bunch of white/Jew-hating corruptos. It was about a 20-minute drive to pick up our mail at the PO and we’d be lucky if we didn’t pass half a dozen cruisers on the way to and from the place, and this was out in the middle of nowhere! In the city, you couldn’t go a block without spotting the corrupt little turdballs.

Someone once said I’d love them if I had to call on them for an emergency. Oh really? I’m not so sure about that cuz wouldn’t I automatically be disbelieved if a black person went to attack me that cried racism and said I attacked them when it was really just me defending myself? Wouldn’t I somehow be blamed if I were raped and told that if I’d just worn my dress a little longer or not been at a particular place it wouldn’t have happened? So no, I doubt I’d have much love for any cop, most of which are high on abuse and power and not the “serve and protect” idea. Hey, none of them are going to enter the academy and say, “I’m really here to act macho and act out my aggression and to speed even when I’m not chasing anyone” and shit like that.

Anyway, the emptiness there is mostly the economy. As for the Latinos, I don’t have much sympathy there cuz many were/are illegals that drain our resources. Especially from those that truly need help. The drug cartel was killing off both civilians and cops like they were merely stepping on bugs, and in general, they just weren’t any real asset to the area. People don’t want to hear this, though, no matter how much the statistics are right there in their faces. Say bad things about whites, Jews and gays, however, and they’re all ears. There are still a lot of hard-working Latinos out there and it’s sad to see the lazy ones who resort to crime and welfare make them look bad.

So, while losing our home there ended up being a good thing due to the dangers from the cartel and old enemies, the taking of our home is one thing I’ll never forgive God for. That and the legal abuse were basically the final straw where God was concerned.

I have a friend that’s trying to conceive right now. She and her husband are so sweet and would be excellent parents. But they are a prime example of God’s cruelty and life’s injustices and unfairness with all the trouble they’ve been having. Meanwhile, I still see mean, crazy druggies having no problem at all. She wonders if God has some other plan for her. Well, she can tell herself this if it makes her feel better, but it’s her life, so shouldn’t she be the one to plan it? And what if it’s not for some “better” plan but actually a punishment? God truly seems to punish good and reward evil. Makes me wonder if I’d have spent half a decade cramped in someone’s trashy old trailer if I’d had kids I’d abused, beat the shit out of people, robbed people, and done all kinds of horrible things I know I could never do.

Later…

Something bit me a couple of days ago and it itches like hell. Can’t figure out what it is. No bite has ever annoyed me this long and my anti-itch cream has been worthless.

I’m more worried about Tammy. The autoimmune deficiency disease she has causes her to have trouble breathing and she blacked out the other night for the first time, scaring both Mark and herself and was at the hospital undergoing testing. I guess some oxygen company is to be delivering oxygen to her. Nothing I’ve read says what she’s got is deadly, but if she dies I’m going to really start fearing for my life after losing my parents and brother in the same year! What a frustrating way to live, as she said. I remember back when I smoked and had to be rushed to the ER with all those asthma attacks just how terrifying it could be. A couple of times I wondered if I was going to make it, but I never blacked out. At least I don’t think I did.

I feel bad for Andy too, cuz he’s having trouble breathing as well in Arizona with all the pollution down there. I remember that all too well, as I told him. I stopped wheezing after quitting smoking but always had a tightness that remained until we left the damn state altogether.

It put a smile on my face to think of Tom and I enjoying the new house and the rats running around playing in it. They love running up and down the space between the slider and vertical blinds, so if we have such a thing in the new place, the neighbors are really going to be in for quite a surprising sight, LOL. I just hope it doesn’t take much longer and that it really does work out and we’re as happy as we think we’ll be there. I don’t expect any place to be perfect, but I hope it isn’t bustling with too much activity in the daytime. We’ll finally be in a place where we’ll be able to stream movies and so many other things we couldn’t do for so long and I’ll want to do it without the annoying background distractions. My biggest concern is being able to sleep.

Yesterday I was feeling kind of down and out just thinking of life’s injustices and unfairness. While my parents once thought of ways to spend money that could’ve helped me, I had to spend a half-hour trying to figure out how to make room for a fan. Just one lousy fucking fan. Yeah, we ordered another stand fan for the bedroom. Besides, we’ll only need them when we move cuz if any of the rooms there have a ceiling fan it will probably only be the living room.

Still, some people have beautiful homes yet will complain if one single carpet fiber is out of place while my husband works his ass off all day just to come home to this dump. He may not be the complainer I tend to be, but it still saddens and angers me nonetheless. Life is so backward so much of the time – people struggle to conceive while others run for abortions. People fight to live while others throw their lives away. People who would love to work but can’t while others laze around on welfare that are capable of working.

We really ended up with a great pair of rats. They may not care much for Tom, especially Romeo, but they’re fun, playful, friendly and smart. They were off to a dumb start, but they’ve learned their names and other things as well, a reminder that rats really are teachable and can figure things out on their own as well. Sugar’s getting to be a bit of a mama’s boy when they’re out, LOL, nestling up with me and climbing all over me. He loves to explore and playfully bounces around the place, then he runs up to me for attention and burrows in the folds of my robe. They’re going to miss this thing in the summer! They’re copying my schedule a bit more these days too, staying up later in the mornings as I roll onto days. They didn’t crash till after 8am today. They’re naturally nocturnal, though, so I can’t expect them to stay up all day.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 23, 2013 Facebook is at its worst ever with the glitches and it’s driving me crazy! The site is not only running in slow motion for me but there are still issues with sending/receiving messages and friend requests. I looked these issues up in their help section and it says that if you’ve sent friend requests that have gone unanswered or you’ve sent too many messages or spam or anything considered unwelcome contact, they can block you for a few hours to a few days from sending messages to non-friends and also friend requests. But it’s been way longer than just a few days and none of this applies to me so I would think FB would tell me if they were going to block me from some of their features, and it isn’t just me that’s experiencing this problem. What I don’t get is why the assholes won’t fix it!

Anyway, I probably should’ve said this yesterday when I shared the interview with Bill Cosby, but the only thing I disagree with is how he made it sound like all women have lots of “husbands” or men with the kids they have. Yes, fewer people are marrying, fewer people are having kids, fewer marrieds are having kids, more kids are being born to singles, and this is a trend we’ve been on since the 90s. But to me it isn’t one’s marital status that matters, it’s THEM that matters. I’d rather be born to one loving parent than two abusive ones. Who wouldn’t?

But not all moms are single by choice and I don’t think it’s fair to blame the woman if daddy runs as soon as he finds out she’s expecting, as is a very common occurrence. Statistically, most men don’t want the responsibility of children. They either don’t want to compete for the woman’s attention, don’t like the idea of smelly diapers – whatever – but if a man’s going to be dumb enough not to insist on BC if he doesn’t want kids, or goes and tells the woman what she may want to hear just to get her in bed, how is it the woman’s fault when she finds out he really didn’t want kids and that’s why he ran? It’s getting increasingly difficult to find a man who will not only be faithful but who truly wants kids. So that’s the one thing I can’t fully agree with Bill on. Some moms are single by choice, but some aren’t.

Later…

Just read the following paragraph in my journal in Word dated 1/24/11 that reads:

I’ve been missing her lately. No, not her. And not Nane either. The other her. I’ve thought of her every day since we stopped talking, but lately, I’ve been missing her more than usual and more than I ever thought I would. I’d just like to respect her wishes and not mention her name even if some people may be able to put two and two together and figure out who she is. But yeah, I miss her at times. I know, however, that to go back in time would be to start a whole new round of trouble. Trouble I don’t need. I have absolutely no reason, no matter what I may be told, to believe anything would be different now than it was a year ago. So I’d rather just miss her, wonder how she’s doing and hope she’s doing well. It’s easier that way.

But missing who? I have no idea who the hell I’m talking about. I know I’m not talking about Marie, Nane or my southeastern buddy. So who then?

TUESDAY, JANUARY 22, 2013 Molly hasn’t updated her blog, but she did go in and delete comments and she did peek in on me. Until she makes an update, I can’t say for sure if Kim’s been scared off by my contacting her sister or not. I still think that if I returned to Ask, so would she. It’s hard to scare the crazy. If you have no sense of right from wrong, don’t think you’ll be caught or don’t care, why would you worry?

For an instant, I thought of having Kathy casually ask Kim how she’s been just to see what she may say, but I don’t want to get Kathy involved and I know Kim’s likely to lie about what she says anyway.

We’ll believe it when we see it, but supposedly they’re going to really back off on the OT at work. If they could do that and throw Tom on second shift, it would really help with getting a place and getting out of here unless something up there is so damn against us that no one will take us anywhere. I still think we can get a dump in a dumpier park.

Tried to call my Italian Dad yesterday morning, but one number was out of service and the house number just rang. He’s 84. I learned that much when looking up the numbers on Zabasearch. If I end up unable to get a hold of him I’ll send another letter in time.

Still no meaningful dreams lately, but they’re not as negative. Just a bunch of junk dreams that couldn’t possibly be signs of anything to come. These spam dreams are often just quick snippets of this and that – sleeping on a coil spring mattress that has coils poking through at me. Silvery moonlight glinting off of spider webs on grassy areas outdoors. Trying to convince some woman in her late 60s to let me move in with her by assuring her the 52-inch TV I won (that’s really a 32-inch) would look great on her living room wall. Letting a 6-year-old girl “beat” me up by practicing the karate moves she learned on me.

MONDAY, JANUARY 21, 2013 Tom still thinks we’re moving in April and that my dreams and vibes that suggested this are “reasonable.” To me, it still feels like we’ll never get out of here.

I’ve been neglecting the stories I know I said I’d get on with finishing or at least expanding, but I’ve been rather busy. I had to smile when my good Pakistan friend deactivated her Ask account because I did, LOL. I appreciate the loyal fan that she has become.

I re-opened my blogs (I will not pick up or respond to messages on MD) for two reasons. One is that Facebook is still running slower than molasses for me for some reason, so I don’t want to spend much time there. Two is because I don’t see that it could hurt anything if people can read my stuff but can’t make me “accidentally” interact with them like they can on Ask. So if my re-opening of my blogs has sparked any hope in you that I’ll reactivate on Ask, sorry, but I’m not going to do so anytime soon. For now, I’d like to stick to sites where I’m harder to contact and I have a better idea of who’s who and what’s going on.

Later…

Nothing from Kim on FB or MD, the only places she could message me. I think the real test will be when Molly updates her own blog. Kim almost always leaves comments. If she’s not using her blog to insult others, she’s using it to try to befriend Molly. Just like Molly, Kim seems to like to try to win over those who don’t care about her. Can’t tell if she’s reading my blogs since she likes to hide from my tracker, but my guess is she’s checking in every day. Same with Ask, to see if I’ve reactivated.

Andy had me laughing like crazy yesterday on FB in regards to one of Nane’s posts on my wall where she sends me an ersatz haus (replacement house) since we couldn’t get that other one. He said that maybe Nane could buy me one with her street fight wins since we’d joke about her going to have fun fighting in these other countries that seem to live for fighting. We’ll find out next month, cuz my German hottie’s going to TR for a week. Aber das Haus war mein Traumhaus wenn nur sehr groß!

The rats were so funny yesterday. Both of them were out playing with us in the morning before Tom left for work. They’re so damn cute, though Romeo still isn’t overly fond of Tom.

Tom says he’s “almost sure” we’ll be giving notice in March and explained why he thought this. I see where he’s coming from, but it still seems a bit soon, even though my dreams have been saying we were in for a big change in April. Then again, if we just take the damn dump we were meant for, we could be out of here even sooner than that! It’s okay. Really, it is. I’m used to living poorly and that “dump” will be OURS and we can fix it up the way WE want. This is because I realize that no matter how much money we save, our credit is always going to be an issue cuz we’re A, not going to borrow money because we don’t want to borrow money and we don’t need to borrow money, and B, we’re not going to pay off those trying to scam us. I’m not without compassion. I would still lose money to help a friend in need that I know would do the same for me. And I’m not greedy either. I would share some things with those I know and trust. But I do draw the line at letting those with ill intentions profit at our expense.

I read this interview with Bill Cosby and I couldn’t agree with this guy more about the way people talk today, especially blacks! It IS about behavior and not color, and it IS a shame people can’t speak proper English. It seems all races are actually getting sloppier and sloppier with their English, though, and not just blacks. Maybe it’s just the writer in me that notices these things, and I know that some people aren’t the greatest typists and find it easier to abbreviate and make shortcuts when typing as even I sometimes do, but it is so damn annoying to have to read so many messages and comments 5 times over just so I can understand what the hell they’re saying. The way so many people talk and write today is a shame and I’m truly embarrassed for many of them. Don’t they realize or even care just how dumb and immature they appear? People have taken being creative and unique to extremes that are getting to be a bit overkill. Anyhoo, dat, dis, aks… those aren’t real words. At least not in the English language. I say, talk right, folks! The way we write says so much about us. In most cases, it may not matter what others think and no one’s perfect of course, but if I were submitting job applications, manuscripts or looking to date mature, intelligent people, I wouldn’t want to come off like a 1st grader. I have no problem with unique names and old traditions dying out (like how most parents are single and most marrieds don’t have kids these days), but let’s speak English unless we mean to speak some other language altogether!

SUNDAY, JANUARY 20, 2013 Nane and Irene are connected again. I didn’t think that after 30 years they’d stay away from each other forever.

My craziest niece (Lisa) is now 30, and I still haven’t heard from Jan. She doesn’t appear to have been around since the 16th, but who knows for sure?

Surprisingly, Kim didn’t comment to me through Molly’s blog and because Ellington, CT didn’t show up on my tracker list, I’m thinking it was Kim’s sister that was the hit from there and not Kim. If it were Kim she’d be showing up every day. Still, if Molly knows about my LJ blog, then so does Kim. Therefore, I’m not going to update it with current stuff.

I sprung the Justin account to life on Ask, curious to see if either troll would ask anything and they didn’t. I’m surprised. I wonder if Kim’s silence there and on Molly’s blog had anything to do with me complaining to her sister. It’s amazing how one sister can be so fit and successful and married with kids while the other is a fat mental case on disability and forever hopelessly single.

I would’ve done this entry sooner, but yesterday I was too tired, then I was too busy, and then my allergies just had to go off. Why are they acting up at this time of year? I’m guessing cuz it’s been warmer? The heat of the afternoon has been messing with my sleep, but I’m always too lazy to get up and crack a window. Oh, to have a house with a normal roof instead of this tin bullshit, and to have your standard 4” walls and an AC for when I’m not up to open windows. It seems like the only times the weather doesn’t mess with my sleep here is in the dead of summer when the windows have to always be open for the swamp cooler to work, or in the dead of winter.

I hope whoever we end up next to has an AC and doesn’t leave their windows open all the time. I don’t want to have to hear their mutts from indoors when they run up to open windows to bark at people walking by or smell their cigarette smoke.

I worried that if we didn’t get out of here soon enough, another crisis would occur and we’d be the ones to have to deal with it. Well, sure enough, I noticed the water pressure was low at around 2am and had to wake Tom up nearly an hour early to check for leaks outside. I’m so sick of him having to lose sleep for someone else’s old shit! And why do things have to break at the end of my day?

But there were no visible leaks outside. So he waited and called up to Jesse at 6:00. It turns out that a flap didn’t close right in his toilet and so that’s why it started draining the tanks. Next time maybe he’ll know to check this when he goes to empty that ass or the old hotdog. This is when I resolved to get out of here ASAP. I’m sick to death of all the problems here and not sleeping well in the daytime!!! Even if the weather is perfect for sleeping, in the back of my mind I know he may come down for whatever and I’m sick of it! Sick of the well (those are always an issue), sick of him, sick of his mutts, sick of the lack of space, sick of the internet, sick of everything! I don’t care anymore where we go so long as it’s not attached to anyone. Tom’s adamant about doing it right so we don’t swap in one problem for another, but I already know and figure I won’t sleep well in a park during the daytime either. Too much traffic coming and going. Most people come and go several times a day and they have company at least a few times a week, too. Delivery trucks, service trucks, trash trucks… I already know this will be an issue. It pretty much has to be in a place that houses that many people that close. But it will be ours and it will be bigger, and I’m sure I’ll sleep just fine at night. Besides, if it got to be overkill in any way we could add special padding under the bedroom carport that acts as a shock absorber. I can play the sound machine loud enough to drown out most sounds so long as no mutts are literally right outside the window or screaming kids that visit, but the vibration of all the car door slamming could very well be an issue.

Someday. Someday I won’t walk up to the sink and wonder if there’ll be any pressure when I turn it on. Someday I won’t take showers that smell like bleach half the time. Someday we will escape this bummery and our home will match us, so to speak, in that we will have what two people who work as hard as they can and to the best of their ability, truly deserve. God can’t hold us back forever. I won’t let Him. This doesn’t mean He won’t curse our new home with problems no matter how old it is. I know He doesn’t want us having our own place again, but tough!

Later…

The realtor called about a different home in that same park, but forget it. I’m not interested. The nicer homes are going to be in the nicer parks and I doubt the nicer parks will accept us so why bother wasting our time?

Besides, we’ve still got the management company in Oregon saying we owe them a couple of hundred bucks we don’t owe them, a common scam for management companies to try to make a buck extra in the end while spiting others by fucking up their credit. We always got along with them just fine, but I know that this is something they often do to everyone. No matter how clean and in fine condition you leave a place, they always claim you owe them money.

Then we’ve got some book club trying to scam us for $300 worth of books I supposedly got a few years ago. What books??? And where are all these books I’m supposed to have gotten? Tom’s still hoping he can dispute at least the books and that because we can easily afford it, we should just go ahead and pay the management company off. No way! Although not directly, we were already forced to pay those that fucked us over down in Arizona and I’m not doing it up here. Besides, that’s how you get taken advantage of. Give the blackmailer 10 grand and they’ll be demanding 10 more. I’m not going to let scammers profit at our expense just so we can get ahead in life.

My dreams have been too vague and erratic to possibly mean anything. In one dream I’m in a nice new, modern, spacious bathroom, while in a dumpy old place in the next.

Tom said the house we wanted wasn’t nearly as nice in person. When I saw the pictures I thought, ooh, brand new sculpted carpet, but he said it was actually old and worn. Also, when he went through the This is What’s Wrong papers, he found something bad with the electrical. It was okay for lights, but bad for computers. The park and the location within the park would’ve been ideal, though. However, no one has the “ideal” place unless they’re rich, so as I’ve always figured, we’ll end up in a dump in a dumpier park, but even the “dumpy” parks are nice. And if we have to invest 10 grand or so to fix and pretty it up, so be it.

I still feel like something is totally against us and is going to do everything it can to delay us from moving. Then when we finally do get our way it’s going to “punish” us for it. I think the best thing to do is just say “fuck it” and give it up for a while. We still don’t even have the money I’m supposedly still getting from Walter, and well, I’m just sick of this. I’ve had enough talking, planning, thinking, hoping and dreaming and I need a break. Sometimes the best way to deal with a problem is just to step back, remove yourself from the situation if you can, and take some time off. Meanwhile, things could be worse. We’ve got a home, we’re not on the streets, and it would be better if I just did what I can do to make this place as comfortable as possible and have the attitude that we’re going to be here for quite some time to come.

Things are otherwise going well. I’ve lost 5 pounds on my first two weeks of Alli and I can see where this is something that wouldn’t and couldn’t just stop working like a lot of things tend to do. It’s nothing one builds immunity up to because Alli always does what it was designed to do – block the absorption of most of the fat we eat. I love how it helps curb hunger too, and I don’t have to practically starve myself all the way down to just 1000 calories a day or work out for hours every day. They say to expect to drop about a pound a week, but I’m still hoping for two a week. That way I won’t have to buy the pills as much.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 2013 Sure enough, after being empty a whole year, someone made an offer on the house and Tom had to turn down her “silent” offer to make an offer of our own because I do not yet have the money we’re waiting on and am beginning to wonder how many more months it’ll be before I do. It doesn’t matter anymore, though, because we have enough money for what we can get. I realize that no matter how much we save, the nicer parks are going to turn us down for lack of credit no matter how easily we can afford to buy the damn place outright and afford the lot fees. So more than likely we will transfer from one wooden crate on a steel frame to another that’s in a dumpier, cramped park, but that’s okay. This is basically all I know and at least it will be ours. If we furnish it according to its size, the lack of space won’t seem so bad, though I would still like an extra bathroom. Tom still thinks we can get a doublewide that’s older, and that this may be better in some ways because that would be easier to make into exactly what we want, as opposed to a place with appliances and things that aren’t quite what we want but not bad enough to change. I can kind of see his point cuz even though I’d prefer pink carpet, why change tan carpet that’s brand new and in mint condition just cuz it’s tan? Gray or olive may be tempting, though.

A friend of mine said she prayed that we would get the house we wanted, but it goes to show that the “sky daddy” and the notion of being able to simply ask for what we want is pure wishful thinking. No one would want for anything if they could just ask, and as I always said, you can’t pray for what isn’t meant to be and you need not pray for what is meant to be. I understand people’s need to tell themselves otherwise, though, so they can feel like they have a little more control in their lives.

I still think we were fated – and yes, I believe in fate – to live in tiny dumps. Seems obvious enough anyway. On the bright side, those dumps are going to be on dirt-cheap lots that’ll save us a fortune, along with the heating/cooling savings. By the time he retires, we just may be able to buy an on-site house outright and we could have one last shot at something newer, bigger and nicer. So fine, let’s keep living like bums as rich as we’re getting and just GET ON WITH IT ALREADY! Damn, I’m sick of this waiting game. Another 6 months or so and I’m really going to lose interest altogether. I’m like that in that the more I just talk about something as opposed to actually doing it, the more I either lose interest or it just seems like a dream not worth bothering with. Just give us another bummy old trailer like this that’s OURS and that’s HALF the cost and let’s move on!

Meanwhile, I was pissed that the realtor couldn’t have simply said why she was calling instead of interfering with my sleep and schedule one more time, but since she did, I’ve been dragging since I got up at 2pm after not crashing till after 8am. I woke up a million times, too. Had more vague and obscure dreams about packing or talking about moving, but again I never “saw” where we went.

Still pretty tired and it makes me glad Andy’s on vacation and that we’re not doing Ask. I know he’d be looking for me or at least for a journal entry. I haven’t even posted today’s old entries yet.

I’m down 5 pounds now, and Tom says there’s talk of starting a second shift in March. We’ll believe it when we see it, though second shift would be ideal for moving.

Still nothing from Jan. Although it won’t do me any good, I complained to FB about the problems sending/receiving messages and friend requests. She doesn’t appear to have been on FB since the 14th, so there’s still a little bit of hope that she may get my message and friend request.

She must’ve been married at one point, presumably to a guy, because her maiden name is listed as Ogden.

I also got a half-hour visit to my LJ blog from Ellington, CT right around Kim’s area, so it was either her or the sister. Different provider than I knew Kim to have, though, so my guess is the sister. She must’ve gotten the link from Kim because I blocked her on FB cuz I didn’t want to discuss Kim with her, I just wanted her to know what her sister was doing, talk to her, and hopefully scare Kim off. I don’t think anything will, though, unless she’s physically restrained from going online because she’s back to playing “Janet M” on Molly’s blog. Does she really think people are that stupid? How dumb can you be to use an alias people know damn well is just an alias? Regardless, I didn’t block the sister’s group page, so she might’ve linked to my blog after linking to my page from there, but Kim still would’ve had to give her my name either way cuz I didn’t. Or maybe it was Kim herself. She’s been disabling cookies this long, though, so I don’t see why she’d turn them on now.

And Norma has a proxy. Yeah, I thought it odd that she never appeared to visit my blog before I turned it to friends only, but when she said she wished she had known what I was going through as a kid (how sweet of her, though I don’t see what she could’ve done), I gave her my bio link on LJ and saw she was going through a proxy.

Anyway, Kim probably would disable cookies before she went through a proxy cuz that’s less complicated.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 18, 2013 Andy is now in the air and on the way to the desert!

Anyway, looks like Jan has no children and is in a relationship with a woman as of last year. Wow, I’m kind of surprised. So that married woman with 3 kids that I thought might be her really wasn’t her after all, just like the daughter Betsy had said when I went looking for her a year or two ago.

Jan was a pretty good-looking woman. What I usually go for – tall, dark, and older. She was part of the Klamath Indian tribe and was just an attractive lady overall. I got the feeling she was smart, capable of putting her foot down when necessary, but not mean or crazy in any way. What I like in a woman but tend not to get.

Thank God I could get a guy as great as Tom is or else I’d really wonder what the hell was wrong with me. And so I love women but choose men. I pretty much always have. Oh, I could get a woman, all right. She just has to be everything I wouldn’t want her to be.

Anyway, Jan had a cute little gift shop but eventually sold it to take her treasures online. She had given me a pen with the web address on it, but I haven’t seen the pen in a million years, so who knows where it is. I could never find her site, if she still has it, either.

In her profile picture, she still looks the same, but maybe with slightly shorter hair and maybe a shade or two lighter. Saw a picture of her woman and I would never peg them for a couple. Neither of them looks like lesbians. I know it’s a matter of personal taste, but I never liked the lesbian “dress code” anyway. Maybe that’s why I always had such a hard time attracting women. I refused to cut my hair off (above the shoulders) and act, talk, dress and walk like a guy. I was meant to be a woman, like it or not, but again, to each their own. To me, it just defeats the purpose of being attracted to women, IMO. I have always wondered about women who were attracted to people like Ellen Degeneres and KD Lang. Are they really attracted to women, or could they perhaps be attracted to men with pussies? I guess it depends on what’s important to you. I tend to look at people as a whole and I think that’s why I’ve always found women more attractive than men or women that look like men; because I like a more feminine look overall as a whole. Not as feminine as I used to but sort of in the middle. You can’t tell Jan’s gay, though I have seen more feminine.

Anyway, maybe that’s why I like to have a cyber GF or two. It’s my way of having what I can’t have. I keep them at a safe distance while I get to keep the man I would love even if he became horribly disfigured in a fire or something. Only problem is I don’t do much better of a job attracting good-looking, sane women with brains in cyberspace any more than I did in the real world. Then again, once I was married I did actually do a better job of attracting what I wanted; I just couldn’t have them. Someday. Someday I will have a friend with benefits and enjoy the variety of both worlds. I just may have to settle for a little craziness or a little ugliness cuz I ain’t hot enough for the hotties and am a little too batty for the sane ones.

I was thinking back on dream premonitions I’ve had that weren’t premonitions at the same time they were. I dreamt a friend’s Mom would die at the end of last year. Instead, it was my Mom who died. I dreamt my sister would die. Instead, my brother died. The point is that someone did die. Kind of makes you wonder.

Speaking of dreams, I asked for a sign in my dreams if we had any chance of getting the place we want as I was falling asleep. Well, I had a dream I was packing some stuff but never saw where we were going.

Meanwhile, the realtor left Tom a message asking him to give her a call but didn’t say why. God, I hate that! I hate people leaving us wondering what the hell they want. She probably got an offer on the house or needs to reschedule this weekend’s showing. Or maybe the place sold, though I don’t know why she wouldn’t have just said so.

She did tell Tom that she managed the park it’s in for 18 years and that she isn’t very fond of the current manager. I hope she’s not another Stacey! If it is we stand no chance of being let in without credit.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 17, 2013 I was surprised to learn Dad’s still got the group home up and running. I thought they would have sold the business years ago, but it’s a family business that Mom’s Mom started, so I can see where it wouldn’t be that easy to just give up. Can’t imagine Freddy taking it over either. Freddy always seemed to be the exact opposite of his parents in that he came off as cold, macho and uncaring. Totally not the sensitive, compassionate type it takes to run the type of group home LaRagiones is.

Anyway, I’d help if I could if I were there. I was remembering how grown up it made me feel to help serve dinner to all the people. There were about 5 or 6 large round tables set up in the main room in front of the main house, and I would have fun carrying out all the plates of food. Or some of them anyway.

Although I will miss having public blogs and the anonymous fun on Ask, it’s nice to be free of the trolls and not “forced” to give them the attention they want, in a sense, when they would ask me questions I couldn’t know for sure was really them. The break from their annoyances is nice. Like shedding a heavy coat on a day that’s hot as hell.

But I don’t want to be in hiding forever, as forever is such a long time. Right now I’m willing to give up some of the fun I was getting from it in order to frustrate them by wondering where I am and what I’m writing about in order to give myself a break from the same old kiddy crap I’ve been dealing with for years. Kim, however, proved to be a million times worse than Molly ever was and Molly was plenty bad enough. Most of the time Molly was a silent observer, following me from site to site, but Kim was anything but silent.

What was almost certainly Kim, asked Andy why he lets me tell him what to do. LOL, yeah, that’s a popular one they’ve both asked me and other friends before. Whenever we deactivate an account it’s automatically assumed it’s because someone told us to. Andy’s account still exists, but he hasn’t been using it much, so the trolls assume it’s because I ordered him not to. I don’t care, of course, what he does as long as he keeps my name out of it. Bringing me up would not only defeat the purpose of doing what I’m doing, but in their twisted minds, it would give them false hope of me returning. I may “wake up” my account there periodically in the middle of the night when they’re not likely to catch me, just to keep it alive. I hate to throw the account away altogether, glitchy site or not. That way it’s always there as an option to use, though I don’t think a year of silence will do the trick. I really think a decade could go by and they’ll still be looking for me. Just maybe not every day. But sooner or later they’ll think to look for me.

Had that pain in the lower right side of my stomach that I suspect could be a cyst on my ovary that flares up every so often.

I hope the trip to Arizona perks Andy up. I’m sooo glad he’s clean! Not just for obvious reasons but because Arizona’s the last state a white, Jewish, gay person wants to get caught in and deal with law enforcement. He’s definitely the minority of the wrong kind for that state. Even though what happened to me can never be undone and not every single person in the state was responsible for it, I cringe at the thought of placing just one toe over the border of that state for just 5 minutes. So if my toes won’t visit that state, neither will I! Tom feels the way I do, too. I had some fun times there, did some really neat things, and saw some amazing scenery and storms, but I’d go back to Massachusetts before I went to Arizona.

Sometimes I wish my friends and some family members that aren’t already there could one day meet up and retire in Florida so we’d all have each other to finish off our golden years with, but that’s just a fantasy. Still, growing old with Tom may be wonderful by itself, but growing old with Tom with Andy down the street, and another friend up the street, and maybe another a few blocks away, sprinkled with some family members, would be heaven.

Later…

Someone in Chicago spent two minutes trying rather desperately to access my MO blog. Could it be Kim’s “sources” trying to get a copy of it for her since she can’t read my MD blog? And if it is, does that mean Kim doesn’t know about my LJ blog? I know Molly does because she accessed it when she couldn’t access my MO blog, but does Kim? Well, if she does, she’s not going to appear on my tracker because the little coward prefers to hide. Aly once said Kim had issues with someone in Chicago, but are they still friends? Whoever it was really wanted in bad to try for two minutes.

A part of me is amused at the idea of just Kim knowing about and reading a blog where she doesn’t know I know she’s reading it and I can throw in all these little stories to piss her off, but the problem is Aly and Kathy. I can’t do anything to Kim or Molly (like drop my LJ link on Molly’s blog) without them knowing about it cuz they watch what she’s up to too, even if they remain silent. I don’t mind Aly and Kathy knowing about most things, but sometimes I just don’t want people to know things. Not everybody anyway.

Anyway, I don’t care about Molly’s lame blog, but I do find Kim’s paranoia interesting and a bit amusing. For some reason, she’s trying to buddy up to Molly and seems to think that everyone who leaves anonymous comments is pretending to be her.

I have some friends who want to read my blog yet don’t have FB accounts. So now I have to decide if opening at least one of them back up to the public is worth it or not. Although I know my stalking trolls would gladly stick their nosy little eyes into it, they can’t contact me on most of them, though I’m definitely NOT going back to Ask anytime soon. That much I’m definitely going to stay away from for quite a while, but not just cuz of them. I’m sick of their tech issues and need a break. But what to do about my blogs… hmm… I’m just not sure yet.

Now here’s some good and bad news for two people who aren’t meant to live in nicer places. We could practically move tomorrow if we wanted to cuz Tom works with a guy who’s tight with the owner of a 55+ park here in Auburn. They’re old single-wides that are “well maintained.” But we would still be cramped in like sardines with flimsy walls and single-paned windows. Ain’t it amazing how easy it is to get what we don’t want? However, the monthly lot fee would be dirt cheap. We’d save an unbelievable amount of money, and well, it just may be tempting when the inevitable happens and the nicer places turn us down for not having credit. I’m not used to nice places anyway. If we had around 1500 square feet, just what the hell would we do with it? I’m not materialistic and have sold most of my doll collection. So is bigger, newer and nicer really better?

There’s another co-worker, a woman who once managed a park in this area, that’d help get us a place there, but it’s a family park. She said there was no barking and that the few kids are quiet.

Yeah, right. Until we got there.

Looks like I finally found Jan on Facebook who used to own the gift shop I’d buy incense from up in Oregon. Facebook is really pissing me off, though, with not letting messages and friend requests go through, so I doubt I’ll be able to actually contact her. I couldn’t contact Kim’s sister there either, so I went directly to the martial arts website she owns and teaches from and emailed her there. I’m sure she’d take her sister’s side, though. Yeah, Kim will say I’m the one bothering her and big sis will be quick to believe it. That’s why I didn’t give my real name and address. But maybe this will finally make Kim think twice before she harasses people. It may make her try to reach out to more of my friends/family, but they’ve long since been alerted to both her and Molly’s shit.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 16, 2013 Sometimes I don’t know if Andy’s playing with me or if he’s just plain stupid. It REALLY bothers me that he answered one of Ask’s questions with: Jodi can still ask me questions here if she wants.

First of all, he should know the importance of not mentioning my name and that the more I’m mentioned, even if it’s not by me, the more they’ll come around. In their twisted minds, they’ll see it as false hope of me eventually returning. He said he deleted a question from the trolls AFTER he said he’d let me see it first, but wouldn’t say what the so-called question was. Like he doesn’t want to tell me or something. I’m sure it was just asking that I return there or whatever.

Secondly, I already told him I wasn’t going to continue on with questions there because they’ll know it’s me, and again, that will keep them coming around and using him as a means of trying to get through to me. Didn’t he read my journal entry about all this? He may not mind, but I do. I do NOT want to give these sickos the attention they want. Not directly, and not through him either.

Tom said Andy may like the trolls cuz he’s a natural troll himself. Yeah, I suspected that, but it’d be nice if he’d consider me a little more than he has.

I’m sorry he’s depressed right now and all that, but I want my name left out of things! Argh! Sometimes I wonder if I should just dump all my friends and go back to living like a hermit both in the real world AND online. It really gets under my skin to see my niece post: I have the most wonderful daddy in the world! He let me use his car because my heater is broken.

Yeah, well, her “wonderful” daddy had a big hand in ruining her aunt’s life for years, and her BIL’s, too. So to be reminded of this asshole isn’t a very thrilling concept.

Anyway, Andy became depressed in December and still is. He longs for the Mr. Right which obviously isn’t meant to be any more than I was meant to have kids, and he really hates winter. He’ll be vacationing in Phoenix soon and hopes that will perk him up. He just doesn’t want his broke friend there using him, nor does he want to stay with her. He said that last time her apartment was hot as hell and her kids were annoying him so bad and going through his stuff that he checked into a hotel. I also get the impression he’s not doing too well financially now, so why he’s going on vacation at this time beats me.

Later…

There was a good God in the sky today after all. Oh, I still don’t think we’re going to get the house we want, but not only did the propane people wait till after I got up to come refill us, but I also got a letter and picture from Harry, my Italian Dad! I was surprised. I didn’t really think I’d hear anything back and figured that if I did, someone may have to write for him as old as he is now. The letter reads:

Dear Jodi,

I don’t type so please accept this handwritten letter from your Italian Dad.

I loved your letter and appreciated it and how you cared for your Italian Mom. I am so glad everything is going so good for you and your husband. Sorry about your biological Mom and Dad. I am still trying to keep the group home going but it is very difficult without my Anna. She meant everything to me. I am lost without her. I am enclosing a picture of us.

I called the number you stated in your letter but someone said I had the wrong number. I don’t do computers or email. I am too old for electronic gadgets.

Once again I want to thank you for remembering us.

With all my love, Your Italian Dad Harry, xxo

I saved a copy of the letter I sent and I did give him the correct number, so he probably misdialed. I’ll use the cell to call him sometime soon.

The picture is as nice as the letter, but Mom sure looks different as opposed to Dad! Dad hasn’t changed much, but I’ve never seen Mom with straight silvery hair swept to the side. I remember her with short jet-black curls. I never cared for the look, but perms were a big thing in the 80s.

Gosh, such mixed emotions going through me now – so happy to hear from him, so sad to know Mom’s gone, so guilty for not keeping in touch. Thank God I studied Italian so I could recognize the spelling mistake I was making when looking up their name online.

Still wonder about that “strange” night, too. Was Mom saying goodbye? Did my psychic side just sense something was up? Or was the timing just a coincidence? I think it’s a combination of the first two since I’m not really a big believer in “coincidences.” The rat freaking out for no apparent reason kind of helped convince me all the more that my dear Italian Mom was indeed here, saying farewell from the other side.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 15, 2013 Deactivated Ask and turned my other blogs private/friends. Kim made up my mind for me when she asked me if I liked an actor I’ve known her to be obsessed with. She asked Andy a couple of questions too, and while they may’ve been harmless, that’s not the point. It wasn’t what she asked, it’s that she asked in the first place when she KNOWS I don’t want her contacting me OR my friends. Sometimes people just won’t let go of us and we’re the ones that have to do the letting go. Shutting down and going incognito was the only way I could think of to throw both Kim and Molly off my tail, though Molly hasn’t bothered me much lately. Kim’s the much bigger problem these days. Damn, I still can’t believe it! I’d never have guessed she’d do this to me. If only I’d known!

Andy may be disappointed that I left Ask, but I did it his way for a while and now it’s time to do it my way. It doesn’t have to be for forever. But if he’s right about them going away for good after a year of no contact, then I need to finally give them that year, and remaining public isn’t the way to do that. As I told Andy, I won’t be able to ask him questions there cuz they’ll know it’s me and will use him as a portal to keep the communication going. There are email, Formspring and other places we can keep in touch and share graphics and all that fun stuff.

I created a ‘smart list’ for select FB friends and that’s where I’ll share some entries from now on. Adonis and Andy aren’t on the FB note list cuz Adonis is on MO and Andy likes his emailed. I’m still going to carry on with my blogs as usual, too. They just won’t be public.

If I had to guess I don’t think even 5 years of silence will get these nuts out of my life forever. I think they’ll continue to look for me on and off all their lives. These are crazy people with no life and nothing better to do and no hope of ever having anything to divert their attention from those they stalk. They’re not just people being mean but that still have a life and can eventually have things to move on to.

I did it for other reasons as well and not just to escape them asking questions as if we were old buddies and shit like that. I did it cuz I’m sick of the glitches on Ask and to piss the trolls off. It’s going to really frustrate the hell out of them if they can’t see what I’m up too, LOL, though I believe they read my blogs for different reasons. In Kim’s mind, it was probably because she believes we’re damn good friends. In Molly’s mind, it’s to see if I’ve mentioned a friend of mine who used to be her friend as well.

Also, while I’m always careful what I put in public, these trolls don’t need to know what I am willing to write about online, even if it’s something as trivial as the soda I’m drinking.

I’m going to want to share pics of our new home eventually, and even if they don’t know the address, do I really want to let these trolls see inside our home? That’d almost be like opening the door to them in person and saying, “Come on in.” Only difference would’ve been that online they’d actually get out alive.;)

Later…

I’m totally dismayed but not surprised by Tom’s good and bad news after seeing the house today. For years I suspected that something up there has wanted us to live in tiny old dumps as if that was all we deserved. Well, when he described the house as being not perfect but totally ideal for us, it convinced me that nothing’s changed with this twisted “rule” because the park only accepts people with super good credit. It’s not just the house itself that’s ideal, but the park and the home’s location within the park as well.

Tom thinks we only have a 20% chance of getting them to give us a break and consider the fact that it’s been empty a year now and that if the owner gets tired of making the monthly payments, they’re the ones that are going to have the expense of having to repossess the house and fix any repairs that are needed, however minor they may be (flashing around skylights, chips in bricks, cracks in plaster, chips in an edge of the kitchen’s porcelain sink). Yet I know that people are greedy, stupid and stubborn. They won’t care that they could actually lose money that way. They won’t care that the monthly ownership expenses there are comparable to what we’ve been paying here for nearly half a decade. People’s rules and expectations are what they are and they don’t usually want to be flexible about them in any way.

It isn’t just the park’s standards and people’s stubbornness that makes me believe we’ll never get this house but the bastard above and His obsession with us living in little old dumps. It’s wrong, it’s unfair, and I don’t know why this is our “fate,” but there’s not much we can do about it other than accept what we can’t have and just continue settling. Whatever we do finally get will be too small, too old and too dumpy, but there’s got to be some park that will give us something better than this place that belongs to someone else, even if it’s not “ideal” or what we really want. But it will be ours.

Tom described it as being the Beverly Hills of parks, it’s that nice-looking and looks like you’re driving through a regular neighborhood due to how the houses are all at ground level. There was an empty spot next to it from what we saw on the satellite and we figured that since most satellite pics are old, by now a house had been brought into that spot. But nope. That’s a drainage ditch and will always be empty.

There’s more I could say about what Tom saw and discussed with the realtor, but why bother? It’s not in our “cards.” But it sure is in our cards to live cramped into shitboxes as if we were lazy little bums. Tom wants me to go see it this weekend, but I don’t see the point. He did tell the realtor we have no credit, but even she thought we should still go for it anyway. I guess Tom would rather go as far as we can with trying to get it and until and if they actually turn us down, but I say why fight for what’s not meant to be? I told him I’d think about it, though.

Later…

Andy agrees it’s ridiculous how the owners have different standards than the park’s. People want to sell their homes and are willing to work with those who at least don’t have bad credit and can afford the place, yet the parks want you to be perfect. If we did have great credit, what would they demand of us then? That we are able to stand on our heads for an hour? That we are able to run through fire, breathe underwater, and jump 20 feet off the ground? Makes me wonder if any park anywhere will take us unless it’s an all-out dump for all ages. Well, I’m sorry I didn’t have children to abuse to make me as “deserving” in God’s eyes as my fucked up mother was, but we will not live like bums forever! Fine, give us a dump with adequate space if that’s supposedly all we deserve and we’ll fix it up and make it what we want. It takes years to establish a score of 720 and I won’t do it. I refuse. I refuse to stay here and rent this dump from this pesky landlord for more years, even if he and his mutts have been quieter lately. God may feel otherwise, but my husband and I know we deserve better than this, especially after so damn long.

Speaking of that pesky landlord who’s been quieter, I figured the rising temps would bring him out and about more and they are. He was buzzing around on the ATV when I got up, and I know it’s just a matter of time before the motorcycle starts up again and he finds some reason to come down here cuz it’s been a while. Unfortunately, I don’t see any chance of getting out of here before the roofing excursion, and that’s going to be maddening if I’m on nights at the time. Then I gotta worry about the place falling apart on us while we’re still here. We have leaks everywhere in here! It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the roof started leaking, too.

Gonna start taking melatonin again to try to hold my schedule on days as long as I can each time I’m on it. Right now I gotta hold it to make the waste-of-time appointment to see the house this Saturday at 4pm. I find the Neuro Sleep drink easier than the melatonin pills cuz one of the side effects of melatonin is that you wake up too soon. Well, just a few swallows puts me back out.

Tom said he’s going to see if the park will accept a deposit but I doubt they’ll budge. They’ll say something like, “Well, if we do that for you, we have to do it for everyone.”

Not if we all keep our mouths shut and don’t tell anyone you did it for us, duh!

MONDAY, JANUARY 14, 2013 Still wondering if I’ve got more than two trolls tailing me. Unless Kim has some amazing alters, I’m getting more than just her questioning me on Ask. I’d really, really hate to think Aly could be playing a joke on me! When I told her about the latest round of questions, Dustin said Aly was asleep and he was just checking her messages cuz she was waiting for info from her aunt.

Anyway, I don’t think it’s her, but I never would’ve thought Kim would harass the hell out of me either. Then again, Kim’s crazy, Aly’s not.

“Admit it, you’re just as bad as me,” was what I assumed was Kim saying in regards to Kathy and I anonymously messing with Molly on her blog last night.

So she does know what she’s doing then when she goes overboard with the role-playing? Is that what she’s saying? Either way, I didn’t answer this one.

And how did the person being so nice to Molly who Kathy and I thought could be Alison know there were two of us when they told Molly there were two people pretending to be anonymous? “Shall I contact you about what’s going on?” they asked her.

Today, however, Molly’s still stumped as to who we are. She wonders about me, Kim, Roman and who knows who else.

Dustin, however, says Molly’s back to harassing Aly. But how? If she can just block her and she doesn’t have her current phone number, then how could she harass her? She’s not blogging anywhere or using Ask that I know of, so it should be fairly easy enough to escape Molly.

“Bullying is never the answer.”

Kim? But why would Kim defend Molly? Does Kim wish they were friends?

Molly? But then why did she ask if I follow her on Twitter? Like she hoped I did or something. In truth, I don’t follow anyone on Twitter.

A while passed, then I got, “Is Alison as retarded as Kim?”

I wouldn’t answer and then they asked why not, because they were right? So now I’m dealing with someone who also has a grudge against Alison? The only one I can think of is Kim, but the person wrote kind of well for Kim. At least the Kim I once knew. These questions came in a little late for Molly, so Kim either has a friend, an amazingly brilliant alter, or there’s someone else I’m unaware of that’s tailing me.

There were other questions that I did answer that may or may not be Kim – about the rats, if I’m a trusting person, if I think anyone’s lying to me, and how Tom and I met. The one about Tom doesn’t seem like Kim, and she should know we don’t have cats (someone asked if the cat in my background pic was mine).

They also asked how many online friends I have, and then said they had to work in the morning and were going to bed and would ask more questions tomorrow.

The more I look at the questions, the more I see the spelling isn’t that great. If I had to guess, it probably is all from Kim and her alters. I can’t believe that many people are out and about asking anonymous questions. But if it isn’t Aly pretending to be Molly’s friend on MO, then who is it? The person writes very well, whoever it is.

Later…

“Why not go non-anonymous?” I was asked today. Maybe I’ll just go to Formspring instead. It sucks over there, but I’m sick of the glitches on Ask and so I’m going to see if I can convince Andy to sign up over there. I kind of miss having more privacy, so to speak, in a fun place where we can keep in touch yet be a little more open. But I won’t deactivate my Ask account. I’ll just keep it non-anonymous and check in every so often.

I’m also thinking of turning all my blogs to private/friends and sharing entries on Facebook, but only with some of my friends there. Not Andy, of course, since I email him entries, and not Adonis either since he’s a MO friend. And no, I wouldn’t accept new friend requests so don’t go thinking you could create a bogus account to friend me with if I did decide to do this. But right now it’s only a thought. I haven’t decided on anything for sure yet. It’s just that any friend is a potential enemy, as I’ve learned the hard way, but keeping info confined to FB should cut down the number of potential enemies I might regret sharing it with.

Aly says she doesn’t blame me for considering that and that Molly found her Gmail address which she has deactivated since a reply would be exactly what she’d want. So that’s how Molly’s back to bothering her. We’re just not sure if Molly’s smarter than we give her credit for or if she’s just that lucky to be able to find email addresses like that. Who’s found mine that they’re giving it to every single spammer in the world? I still think that was probably an abusive FB app, but you never know.

Anyway, Aly insists it’s not her messing with Molly and that someone else is trying to come off as her unless it’s just Molly reading things into what’s not really there. I wonder if Kim is trying to come off as Aly and give Molly the impression she’s on her side and wants to be friends.

Aly is against the idea of cyberbullying since her job, after all, is with cybercrimes, and while Molly may’ve done a lot of bad things, people have actually killed themselves after they were bullied. I agree that Kathy and I have been sort of stooping to their level by pestering the pests, so I’m going to just sit back and let Kim, Kathy and whoever else may be involved have all the fun.

The propaners are coming Thursday. I’m totally not going to miss having to call for propane and worry that it’s going to run out before they get here and all that! Plus, it stinks up the place when they open the tank and I always worry about leaks in this old dump, too. The house we want uses both electricity and gas which is good since gas is cheaper. The only real expense will be the AC in the summer, but I like it kind of warm, so it shouldn’t be any big deal.

Anyway, although I’m trying not to get my hopes up, Tom’s going to talk to the realtor tomorrow after work, since he’s the one who’s 55. If it looks good, then I’ll go see it, too. All the lost sleep I’m no doubt in for with the upcoming changes and appointments will be totally worth it.

This can’t go in public (yet) because after all, how hard would it be for a stalker to locate someone in a 55+ park next to a pet cemetery? Yeah, it’s a pet cemetery, Tom learned today, not a people cemetery. Good. They may mow the grass regularly there, but I doubt there’d be that many ceremonies. There’s a wall between the park and the cemetery, but we don’t know how high/thick it is.

We’ve both got eye appointments scheduled for the end of the month, then at some point, I’ll have to have the rest of my dental work done and move on to other long-neglected doctor appointments as well.

Lost 3.2 pounds after week one of the Alli. I’ve had no side effects and little hunger. Don’t know if I can keep losing 3 pounds a week, though, or if I can get under 120 pounds. I think 120 today would be the equivalent of the 100 I was at when I was young due to my current muscle mass. Tom and I were laughing at the BMI chart and how deceptive it can be when you’re on the muscular side. It was trying to tell me I was on the edge of obesity, LOL. Working out definitely makes you heavier than you look, so I’m going to go by inches and just how I feel for the most part.

Alli’s definitely been better than cigarettes as I really did not want to return to smoking! It may’ve helped me lose weight, but it would’ve also given me worse problems and cost a fortune.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 13, 2013 Boy, they are really kicking us offline more often and for longer these days, and I totally can’t wait to get the hell outa here! The hotspot is a joke out here, too. So who knows how many hours it’ll be before I can post this.

On the bright side, I love the idea of the agonizing anticipation the trolls are no doubt suffering as they peek in every other minute all day long wondering when the hell I’ll make an update and answer questions. Poor Andy, though. Then again, he has a life and better things to do than follow those who don’t want to know him, and he knows that some days I’m just too busy to make it to Ask. Still, the wait has got to be sheer torture for those trolls, hee hee!

I deleted the questions I know are from the trolls, and while I probably shouldn’t, I’ll answer the ones I’m unsure of.

Finally heard from Nane. She’d been very ill but didn’t say how. She got a kick out of Andy’s comment about her street fighting in Turkey when I statused that I wondered where she was and all that. She’ll be doing just that in February, LOL.

We also got an email from the realtor. We were surprised to hear from her on a Sunday. Tom probably won’t call her till Tuesday, though, cuz he’s got to set up eye exam appointments for us both tomorrow, and call the propaners out for what will HOPEFULLY be the last time.

Been having dreams and vibes about a big change to come for April, as I said a while back, but didn’t see how we could get moved by April. But now that we have a better idea of what I’ll be getting money-wise, maybe we will. I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high after all the setbacks we’ve already had. We still don’t know if the park itself will accept us and this may not even be a 1@55 park for all we know.

Anyway, the realtor said the house is a 3-bedroom and not a 2-bedroom. 3 would be great cuz then I could separate my office from my bedroom (unless the regular sound machine isn’t enough to sleep with). I could have my computers, stereo and treadmill in one room, my bedroom in another, and Tom’s bedroom in another. Then the living room could be a traditional living room plus Tom’s office.

I just hope to hell we don’t get “punished” for buying a place of our own this time around like we did in Maricopa. Clearly, something did not want us living there. I just hope the blacks and pigs aren’t waiting till we move to jump out at us like they did the last time, figuring it’d be harder for us to run if we owned rather than rented, but like I said, if they ever decide there’s to be a round two, they’re the ones who will lose, not us. If I’d killed someone, beat someone up, ripped someone off or burned their place down, that’d be different. Meanwhile, I’m not going to play court or jail for something I wrote over a year ago just because some people don’t want to hear it. She chose to read the email instead of marking it as spam.

Had a dream I was either staying with or living with Mary. At least I think it was Mary. Anyway, I was tipped off that the pigs would be around the next morning with a search warrant, though I don’t know what for. I spent the rest of the day and all through the night hiding my shit, but I’m not sure what I did to hide it and what it was I hid. I just hope that dream wasn’t a bad sign because I will treat anyone who busts in here with a search warrant, legal or not, same as I would any old burglar. Just because something’s “legal” doesn’t always make it right (it’s not like we’ve got drugs or stolen goods in here). It’s “legal” to discriminate against gays in most places. But is it right?

It’s a few hours later now, and after being offline for nearly 4 hours, Tom got the hotspot to work well enough to submit a troubleshooting ticket to our joke of a provider and they rebooted us from their end after finding an error on the line. Funny how there are “errors” almost every single fucking day at around the same time. I didn’t get online till around 4pm and all I had time to do was touch base with Nane before it went down, and that’s been it till now. So now I can finally post this after I mention how cute and funny Romeo is. He’s decided to be a little gymnast and loves to climb the drying rack.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 2013 Got up at 1pm and have been busy as hell ever since. Every time I’d get a chance to go online, barely two minutes later I’d have to get up to do something else. But now, at coming up on 8pm, I can finally take more than just a few minutes to catch up with things online.

Only I don’t have much to say. I’m doing laundry, hanging with Tom, keeping the rats entertained, and now I’m off to do tomorrow’s grocery list and some other writing.

Damnit! Now I can’t get online. Could be an hour or two before I post this, but again, there’s not much to say anyway. Tom emailed the realtor about the house we want. There was another one listed for the same price in the same park only it was bigger and older. It appears that the “cemetery house” we want has been empty for a year. It started at 45K. It’s a lot of house for the $12,500 it’s now at and I’m guessing they’ve had trouble selling it either due to the park being more expensive or because it borders a cemetery. My guess is the price. It’s one of the fancier parks.

Tom let them know we’re looking to buy within a couple of months, and next we have to hope we see it, don’t find anything wrong with it, and that it looks as good in person as it does online. Another thing I like about the place is that it’s at ground level, which would greatly reduce the vibration of any car doors and whatnot. I just hope the park will accept us, too! It’s just beautiful. Pools, clubhouses, community gardens and other amenities, including security. You can’t just drive into the park. You need a passcode. It would be just our shit luck, though, if it were an all-at-55 park. They don’t say online, so that’s the first thing we’d have to ask, cuz some are 1@55 and others aren’t. Funny it’s in Citrus Heights too, after having a dream a while back about being surrounded by citrus trees. I also had a dream about Lincoln, but that one wasn’t as “prominent” and as memorable.

Romeo was so funny earlier. I had the drying rack set up and of course he not only had to have fun pulling socks off and things like that, but it was so much fun to climb it too, LOL. It’s like a little jungle gym for him… until he falls off.

Later…

There are a few people/things I’ve been too busy to mention yet, so let me start with Mary. The poor girl was fired. She said some dude hit on her, she reported it, and she was fired. This sucks, but I’m just amazed she got two jobs, housing and all the gadgets and electronics she’s got so damn fast and after spending over a decade locked up. I’m sure friends and family helped with some of the material things, but I still don’t get how she can get so much so fast, not only in this shitty economy but after being a high-profile case that was in prison. No one would give my record-free husband just one job for years, yet this ex-con, as much as she was more the victim than the criminal, gets two jobs and the apartment of her choice? Well, I’m happy for her though it hardly seems fair.

I called Paula and she is so damn annoying to talk to being so hyped up as she always is and so damn dumb. She interrupts, changes subjects faster than a speeding bullet, and doesn’t get half the stuff I say. I tried to tell her I wanted to conserve minutes (though the real reason was that I didn’t want to gab for two hours), and the dumb shit turns around and calls me back 3 minutes later to ask if I pay double for minutes out here. sighs I said I’d send her a letter and we’ll keep in touch that way since she’s never going to have regular internet access. She’s lucky this country doesn’t take violence very seriously because as I suspected, she didn’t do a day in jail. Just got an additional year of probation. If ever there has been someone who hasn’t changed a bit since she was young, it’s Paula. Even my mother changed a bit over the years compared to her! I still love my friend and have been friends for nearly 30 years now, but boy can she be one frustrating chick!

if the pigs are lying in wait with any nasty plans up their sleeve now that we’ve passed the 1-year marker since they contacted me (if it was really them), I don’t know about it. Again, though, they lose next time, so they better hope there isn’t a next time. Still wish I knew what “case” they made up on me if there really ever was one, and how much time they have on it before the statute of limitations ran out. It could be years, since after all, I was charged in 2000 with something I was supposed to have written in 1996, so it’s important that I don’t contact the black bitch. One simple “boo” sent 20 years from now could send the pigs running for something I never did 5 years ago. Sure wish I could torment her at times, though. She’d read every single word I wrote, not because she’d be interested, of course, but to see what she could get me with.

I have been playing with Kim, though. Sort of. Not directly. I haven’t mentioned her in my blog publicly. Kathy and I played with Molly a bit on her blog and Molly doesn’t know what to think, but Kathy and I both agree that Kim just might have a friend a little above and beyond her. She too, has noted how Kim writes like a third-grader, but this person not only writes better and defends Kim to Molly (mostly by bashing me), but has also been nice to Molly. The weird part was when they asked Molly if they should contact her “about what’s going on.” So other than saying that I’ve been going off the deep end trying to make Kim look bad and that Kim’s “not that bad,” they told me I should be ashamed of myself on Ask. That’s all I’ve gotten for two days now, which is kind of surprising. It won’t last long, though. Kim never seems to go more than a couple of weeks without pestering me.

A part of me is a little worried that even though Aly said she hasn’t talked to Molly since October, she could be the one being nice to Molly. Even Kathy wondered that, but if she were, why wouldn’t she say so? I just hope that if Aly does talk to either troll she won’t out us, but it won’t be the end of the world if she does. I just wonder how much I can really trust Aly. Kim’s turning on me has made me wary and paranoid. I assumed most of the shit I got on Ask was Kim’s doing, but what if it’s not? What if she’s got a copycat or someone that has nothing to do with her at all? Someone I least suspect. I’m either paranoid or Alison isn’t quite the friend I always thought she was. After all, I did catch her outing me to Kim once, but hopefully she’s learned from it. I wonder, though, if she could be behind some of the questions I get.

What’s got to have Kim totally freaking out, assuming she really is watching all our accounts all day long, is how I mentioned names of her family when pretending to be her to Molly. Hey, she pretended to be me and a million others, so why not, even if it was a bit childish and I don’t intend to make a regular habit of it? Kathy claimed to be Jennifer, a name Molly once used to stalk her with on the old Kiwibox, LOL. Nonetheless, Molly goes back and forth between suspecting Roman, a guy she stalked in her hometown, Kim, and probably others as well. She asked me on Ask if I were behind it, pointing out that we’ve been getting along. I asked her not to answer it and told her in the form of a question that it wasn’t me, but was probably Kim, and she honored my request.

Anyway, although she’s been playing peek-a-boo, Molly really has backed off and I shouldn’t mess with anyone that isn’t making trouble for me. It’s only fair. But I still want to see if not mentioning Kim or answering questions that are obviously from her can get her to leave me alone, since I can’t get through to her sister, the only seemingly sane family member she’s got.

Yeah, here’s where it gets a little funny. I looked up obits on Ms in CT, remembering that Kim’s father died last year and found the stern-looking guy’s obit. Again, I have to wonder what he might’ve done to his kids, especially if Kim really does have MPD. That’s usually the result of childhood sexual abuse. Anyway, She has an older sister who’s married with kids and is a karate instructor while her younger brother and sister are supposedly as fucked as she is and living in group homes. Still, Kim always keeps her friend lists hidden and I’m sure this has got to be at least a little shocking to her to see these names mentioned.

Anyway, Facebook has been having major issues with sending and receiving messages and they obviously have no intentions of fixing this problem, so my message to Carol, explaining what was going on and asking for any help she could give me to get her to leave me alone, hasn’t been read and therefore probably never received.

I remember once Kim said she was sad that family members deleted her on Facebook and she didn’t know why. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I wonder if her alters showed themselves to them a bit too much and they dumped her for going crazy on them, and of course, Kim wouldn’t remember any of it.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 11, 2013 I’m not sure if I mentioned this in public or not but a week or two ago I had a dream that I would get more than just 2-3 grand once my parents’ affairs were all wrapped up. It was a feeling I continued to have even when I was awake. I figured I would receive around 5K, though Tom still thought it’d be 2-3 grand. So when Tammy left a message saying she had a lengthy talk with Walter and that while it could be a little less or a little more to expect around 10K, I was quite shocked and pleased! That’s more than my biggest win! Then I burst out laughing at knowing that another month or two from now, that money combined with our savings will make us worth around 15-20 grand while my parents are a big fat nothing. What a refreshing change, huh? I almost wish they could come back to life and appear at our door, wanting to be let in out of the cold with no clothes, food or money to their name. Then I could say, “Nah, we’re too busy thinking of all the things we could do with your money.” LOL

Before anyone thinks of insulting me by suggesting I thank God or apologize to Him when I thought we’d get nothing…don’t. That’s like being told to thank or apologize to a rapist for giving me money I never expected he would give me. I’m grateful as hell to Walter and to all those who had a hand in seeing that we got anything at all, let alone as much as we’re looking at, but that can’t change the past. What’s done is done. No matter how many heartfelt “I’m sorrys” God may care to drop down from the sky long enough to give me, it can never make up for all the abuse He allowed my parents to inflict upon me. When any God or human being sits back and lets someone abuse someone without doing a damn thing as far as stepping in and intervening, that person is not only just as guilty, but they’re basically saying it’s okay. Well, it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay when my mother slapped me around. It wasn’t okay when she called me a fat idiot who would amount to nothing. It wasn’t okay that she made me so depressed that I wanted to die. It wasn’t okay that she finally gave up on me and sent me away, even before the state took me away. She should have been properly punished, but since God thought it was A-Okay for her to do what she did, she never was punished, and if she never was punished here, why should I think she would be in any kind of an afterlife? If it’s okay here, why not there, too?

Same with the shitsters that legally screwed me. Yes, I was vindicated, yes Mr. Corrupto was dealt with, and yes, they should’ve been made to pay back the money we lost on account of their hate and vengefulness, and while money would’ve been nice and helped a bit, no amount of money could’ve paid us back for the time we lost together. You can’t put a price on time and you can’t put a price on mental anguish either. There may have been more I could’ve done as far as counter-legal action against them, but then I’d be stooping just as low as them by being just as vindictive, and these are the kinds of people that kill people and that have the connections to cover their asses and get away with it, too. And there’s no doubt in my mind that God would give them any added protection they needed. Remember, it’s okay to wrong Jodi S. So unless I am literally forced to take action against them or anyone else in the world, the safety of my husband and myself come first and foremost.

For me, it’s not so much about the money as it is what my parents can help do for us after not helping nearly as much as they should have and could have back when they were alive and we needed it most. We would’ve saved up enough to buy a place on our own; it just would’ve taken a few months longer.

Anyway, Walter’s doing this for nothing. I didn’t realize he knew Dad and I had assumed he had been paid up front. Again, I’m very appreciative of all he’s done! As soon as I receive the check and know his email address I will send him a hearty thanks and my book and blog links as promised over the phone a few months ago. It might be another month or so, though, cuz they’re now in the tax phase, the final phase. At least they don’t owe much there cuz they didn’t make much in the end.

When you set aside the fact that they weren’t always very nice people, it’s kind of sad to see their lives get picked apart and torn down piece by piece till absolutely nothing at all is left. And at the same time, I blame my father for protecting my mother right along with God, I know that if he could’ve shot someone who tried to kill me, he wouldn’t have hesitated even if he knew it would mean he’d go to prison for the rest of his life. sighs So, as usual, there are a lot of mixed emotions going through me now. Maybe it would be easier said than done to let them starve in the streets if they could come back to life, but it’s a funny thought to think of them out there nonetheless with absolutely nothing. Right now, though, I am mostly happy and grateful. And stunned too, to think that barely a year and a half ago we were thinking of the best way to die with some comfort and some dignity as opposed to dying hungry and cold on the streets, not knowing that a miracle would save us in the end and that a happy ending awaited us.

As I’ve learned, all we can do is our best, and sometimes we can survive while other times we can’t. But we did in this case, and now it’s time to happily move on to making new plans. I’ll get to that in another entry since this one’s getting kind of long. I just know that soon enough, the rats won’t have a nicer home than we do, and that if I never see another piece of paneling again once we do move it’ll be too soon!

Later…

Because Tammy was a lot older than me and our parents took off a lot, she was sort of like another Mom as well as a big sister. Sometimes she spent more time looking out for me than our own mother did, and I know she’d be the first in line – and probably the only one – to want to take me in if I were suddenly a vegetable in need of regular care but didn’t need to be hospitalized and didn’t have Tom. It seems so, so long ago that we’d lie on the grass as kids and gaze up at the clouds. We’d each decide what animal or object the clouds resembled depending on their shape.

Losing 3 family members in the same year, even if they won’t be missed, has brought us closer. I think that now that she’s gotten away from abusive men, and the evil mother that pitted her against me for God only knows why has died, there shouldn’t be any problems. We’re different in the way we think and believe and we have different skills, hobbies and interests, but we also have a lot in common at the same time.

I may never again be a phone person but it will be nice to get the computer phone up to speed once we’re gone and to be able to know it’s an option. I could use it at the computer and still get things done while we talked, instead of having to be glued to a shaky cell that wastes minutes in the kitchen. That’s the only room we get decent enough reception in.

But why doesn’t anyone want to talk for just 5-10 minutes? LOL, everyone wants to talk for an hour or two.

I also had a dream Tammy was in a few nights ago but didn’t think much of it. It still may not mean anything, but in the dream, I had just woken up and found her sitting in the living room reading. I said I had a dream where I was cleaning the kitchen of the house we want and hoped that was a good sign.

In reality, I don’t think that house will be available by the time we gather all the money together and start actually talking to people. However, I should soon start “seeing” things in my dreams to give us more of a clue as to where we’re going, the closer it gets. I did for the last two moves anyway.

Florida still has to wait till he retires cuz we don’t want to throw away such a great-paying job, regardless of the crazy hours. It’s not just the great pay, but the health and vacation benefits as well as bonuses and the 401K we don’t want to give up either. Plus, he’s looking at another raise in a couple of months. If it was your typical 24K job without benefits, then we might split.

It still stuns the shit out of me how well we’re doing even without what I’m to get from my parents. I was getting sick of renting, yes, but I meant it when I said I would’ve gladly settled for just enough to get buy with. The necessities are what really, really matters. Everything after that is just a bonus. So it’s quite a surprise to be blessed with all this extra goodness.

It’s going to be so nice and so much fun picking the place out and setting it up and decorating it! My only concern is all the car door slamming jolting me awake when I’m on nights. Yeah, I’m still worried about that. Once we’re in, we’re in. It’s not like we could turn around and sell it in a week or two, and where would we go anyway? So we’re going to have to take our time and pick and choose wisely as it’s going to take some serious getting used to having so many people that close to us as it is. Tom can adapt to pretty much any living situation, and of course, he can keep a schedule. Worst-case scenario we’ll soundproof the place if it’s too apartment-like. It’s much easier and cheaper to do these days, and the cool thing about the amount of money we’ll have is that after the place is all paid for, we should still have money left over to get things for the place AND jump-start the savings back up again. We still want to save most of the money that doesn’t go to necessities. I’d like to have at least 50K saved when he retires, and if he keeps making the kind of money he’s been making, that should be doable enough. We might even have closer to 100K. 50K would be enough to get us to Spain or Florida. I don’t know about Spain, but there are senior parks in Florida too, where we could buy something comparable to what we buy here, so long as we don’t end up not liking it.

I still sometimes miss being in a real house on a concrete slab, but that would up the risk of dogs being left outdoors more often to have to deal with, even in an adult community because it would be easier for people to get away with there than in a park, and if most people in the west don’t have to allow their dogs indoors, they won’t.

I still hope I can adapt to the car doors since 95% of the population has company almost every day, and even if they didn’t, they still come and go multiple times a day. Especially those who aren’t working. With a couple of short-term exceptions, we’ve never had working neighbors. They’ve always been on disability, welfare, students or retired. Some of the people will still be working where we go, but I’m sure each household will have at least one person who’s not working.

So just like I had to adapt to this loud water tank that ignites with quite a thump (it still wakes me up at times, though I fall right back to sleep), I’m going to have to get used to the people coming and going, the delivery and service trucks, the landscaping, and people out milling about. They may not be hanging outdoors sipping iced tea and playing gin rummy when it’s in the 40s any more than when it’s over 100°, but people still gotta walk their mutts.

I’m hoping the regular sound machine will be enough and that I won’t have to blast white noise from an off-dialed radio station out of the stereo, since the walls should be thicker and it should have dual-paned windows.

Sometimes you can never know how a place will be until you’ve lived in it for a while. I thought I’d sleep just great in Maricopa in the middle of a 10-acre ranch. But I was wrong when we learned the hard way about sonic booms and were surprised with how many people (not counting Scott) came to our door.

Getting a nice place won’t be the issue. It’s getting a nice place in the right location that could be a bit of an issue, and of course there’s still the park people to possibly worry about. They should accept us, though, if we pay for a place outright. I hope so anyway.

Both rats know their names. When Tom called Sugar, he came running but Romeo didn’t.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 10, 2013 It’s sunnier today than it was yesterday and I feel a bit more energetic. Yesterday I was really dragging.

Lost 2.2 pounds so far with the Alli, but still have to see it help me lose a significant amount to believe it. Tom had a point in saying BMI charts are kind of pointless. Professional athletes are always “overweight,” since muscle weighs more than fat. I think it’s our inches that matter most, cuz no matter what scale you throw me on you’re always going to be in for a WTF? moment as hard and as long as I’ve been working out.

Another dream with Andy in it. I don’t know where we were but were temporarily sharing a room (and unfortunately a bed) in someone’s house while attending some school. I don’t know what the classes were all about, but one night I couldn’t sleep and was listening to music till it was time to get up. It must’ve been summer in the dream cuz it was light at 6:30 am and I was going through summery clothes in preparation for “class.”

Glad to crash as soon as school let out so I could have the bed to myself, Andy said something about grabbing the attention of other women in the meantime.

“You can’t change fate,” I said.

“Yes, you can,” he said back.

I rolled my eyes and began hunting for something to wear before a stupid argument could break out over changing fate. But every pair of pants I pulled out didn’t match the top I had in mind, so I grabbed a pair of pants only to be unable to find a suitable top.

Andy called for me to move my ass from another room and when I stepped out a few minutes later he goes, “You’re not gonna be changing fate in that outfit.”

“Oh, worry about your own fate,” I told him with a wave of my hand.

“My fate is sealed, bitch.”

“Drive us to school, bastard.”

So it was inevitable that we argue in that dream anyway, LOL.

Really wish I could motivate myself to get back to my stories. I have like half a dozen unfinished ones but I seem to be mostly preoccupied with screening old journals for some of my blogs and thoughts of moving.

Although I’ll probably regret it since some people simply refuse to be ignored no matter what you do, I allowed for anonymous questions again and will just use my best judgment as to what I answer. Already someone who seems to know me is asking about my writing and the rats, though I realize it could be anyone. I have a lot of online friends and am a pretty well-known blogger after all.

Later…

As soon as I allowed for anonymous questions again, my “fan” wasted no time in asking about the rats, my writing and other things. Clearly, it’s someone who knows me, but it’s also clear that they don’t want to say who they are. But so what if they did give me their name? I would have no way to know if they were really who they said they were anyway. It’s still fun to be surprised by whatever comes in, even if it’s Kim I may be talking to. Sure hope not, though!

As the curious type who likes to analyze and learn, I was thinking more about Kim’s behavior, and while the signs of MPD are certainly present, how come her alters never showed themselves before she stabbed me in the back? She never presented herself as anyone other than Kim herself before our so-called friendship ended.

Really wish we could hurry up and get moved so we can plow more money into the 401K and lower our taxes, but there’s no way we could get out before the summer with our change of plans. We’re tired of living like bums. Both of us. Why put the money into an undersized oldie that constantly needed fixing and upgrading when that money could go into something nicer and newer? Just as long as we’re smart about it and don’t take on something with high monthly payments just because it’s nice, it shouldn’t be any riskier than buying a cheap old junker of a place.

Although it’s going to take some getting used to being choked in by so many people as even the “spacious” parks are cramped after having space for hundreds of feet in all directions around us, I’m definitely NOT going to miss Jesse’s engine-gunning. Fucking cock was at it with that truck or whatever it is a few times today. At least it’s not as loud as the motorcycle. It’s been too cold for that. By 7pm we’d already hit freezing and are expected to drop to just 28° tonight.

Paula sent a card and asked that I call her. Did she lose my number or something? Knowing her, she probably did. I’ll call tomorrow. She obviously never went to jail but if she did it wasn’t for long. I figured as much, though. She should be glad the laws are so backward and that it’s the violent offenses they go easy on. You gotta be careful what you think, but you can beat your man all you want.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 9, 2013 Not much going on other than what most people probably don’t want to hear because they would find it either too personal or too boring. I finally got a period after nearly 8 weeks of being late, I’m not the least bit horny right now, and I’m still losing weight. The Alli not only truly does seem to block most of the fat I eat from being absorbed, but it helps curb hunger, too. Again, I don’t know how long it will last, but I look forward to finding that out.

Just when I was thinking how peaceful it’s been around here, Jesse came out to play with his toys for a while, sawing, engine gunning, the usual… He shut up pretty fast, though, unless he’s just taking a lunch break or something.

I did have some weird dreams involving Nane, come to think of it, who I’m starting to go from wondering about to worrying about. Unless she’s hiding it all – and I don’t see why she would – there’s been no activity from her on Facebook since before Christmas, and she hasn’t picked up my messages either. If she were just busy, wouldn’t she at least check in just long enough to let people know she’s alive? I would think so, so that’s why I wonder if something’s wrong.

Anyway, in the dreams, she would alternate between spending time in the US as well as Germany. A little over a year went by that I didn’t hear from her, but when I finally did she told me she had a baby girl while in the US and was now expecting a boy (guess she was younger in the dream). Then I complained about her not stopping to see me when she’d be in the US (though I don’t know where in the US she would go).

Then there was a vague dream about me going to stay with her in Germany, and Andy owning his own restaurant and getting pissed at me for “testing” his mother for senility. I guess the way to do that was to ask if she knew her daughters’ addresses by heart or if she had to look them up, LOL. His Mom was sitting at a large table eating when I was “testing” her and Andy came up and said, “Hey. I’m sick of your shit,” and shooed me away from his mother and into the kitchen or wherever.

Tom was in one of the dreams too, showing me how to operate a partially broken and ancient TV. I said something about it being sad that at our ages we had to have a TV like that, LOL, whereas in real life we have a nice one that I won. We just don’t watch it much.

Later…

Really wanna allow for anonymous questions again on Ask, but know that would mean dealing with Kim and sometimes Molly as well. I miss the fun of it, though, minus their shit, so the question is, should I just take a chance of “accidentally” answering questions that may be from them and just ignore the obvious ones, or should I just keep the settings as they are?

Knowing just what makes this loon tick would help. I can only speculate and theorize, but without knowing for sure, I can’t say what would be best. She either knows what she’s doing and this is all one big conscious and intentional joke on her part, or she really does have MPD and isn’t always aware of her alters’ actions. The less of a sense of right from wrong and fantasy from fact she has, the more likely she will take my answering questions I don’t realize are hers as us engaging in a mutual friendship. Like that person said that asked me not to post her question, please don’t encourage her. Then again, it may’ve been Kim herself. There are a lot of “people” that I’m now suspecting may’ve really been her, like the one who questioned me relentlessly about my sleep disorder a while back, and many other things.

Upon reading the comments Molly’s gotten (before she deletes them), I see that Kim may have a friend. Unless it’s just her pretending to be that friend in her own defense, of course. The reason I wonder if this person may actually be for real is because of how well they write. Unlike Kim, they don’t come off as stupid, immature or sex-crazed in any way. Their spelling and grammar seem top-notch, and they make proper use of punctuation. This suggests a more intelligent and mature person which is why I think it may not be Kim. Kim – at least the identity I used to know as Kim – had poor writing skills. But how can an alter be any smarter than our true selves? It’s still HER. So I don’t see how one’s alter could be any smarter than they are, as funny as that may sound. They can be different personality-wise and they can be dumber, but smarter? Wouldn’t that be like an alter of mine, if I were crazy, speaking fluent Russian and my main self not remembering or being aware of it? I just don’t see how that’s possible, so Kim just may have a friend after all.

Again, is she crazy or acting? Hmm… when I think back to the prank calls Andy and I made, most of the recipients of these calls would have certainly thought we were either flat out of our minds or on drugs, while in reality, we knew damn good and well what we were doing/saying. I still think she’s crazy. Not many people could put up an act that well, that long, and that consistently. Even before she went wacko on me I noticed she had problems remembering things. I first blamed it on not paying attention due to lack of caring, but I really think she has no concept of right and wrong, doesn’t give a shit if she gets in trouble or what the hell happens to her, and probably can’t remember one day from the next very well. But she has to have some awareness to remember to peek in on me every day. She never seemed to forget my name or any of the basic details, so she’s got to be able to think, reason and rationalize at least a tiny bit.

I’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t such a nuisance. A 300-pound crazy loser on disability who’s always lived at home and who will probably never have any type of real job or place of her own, can’t have much to look forward to in life. She’ll probably live and die a virgin, and as Aly said, I doubt she’s ever even been kissed. So what else has she got better to do than sit around and stuff herself while she pesters people?

How do people like her manage to stay out of jails and funny farms? She’s crazy enough to become threatening and get really carried away, though I’ve never known her to make any threats as of yet. Not in the I’m-going-to-kill-you sense, anyway.

I was telling Tammy that Tom’s overworked but at nearly a grand a week, he can’t complain that much, but to please tell people we’re still poor if they ask. If too many people know you have money, that’s how you get beggars on your tail. We probably will be poor again someday anyway.

I’m just sick to death of waiting for my parents’ money if there’s any to be had at all! Tammy said she’d call Walter and agreed he should’ve sent the letters he’s been saying he was going to send. Yes, he should have, but I don’t want “letters,” I just want my fucking money so I can know where we stand. As Tom said, it’s not so much that we have bad credit as we have no credit, so we’ll want to buy the place outright when it finally does come time to buy one. I still worry about the park itself, though, cuz we still have to rent the space it’s on and they could still turn us down.

Anyway, Walter’s still waiting on creditors. I guess they have a certain amount of time to make a claim against the estate, whatever that means. I’m not a lawyer so I don’t know how it all works. I guess it has to do with the debt the fucking bitch ran up before she died.

Still like that house by the cemetery but not that it’s in an expensive park. It’s a beautiful, upscale park, and yes, we can afford it. But I don’t want to just “afford” something, I want to be able to afford it and still save like crazy. But we also don’t want to settle for some cramped, scummy park either.

If I thought my ear and sleep disorder were hard to live with, my poor niece must feel the wrath of God around her big time now! How could any God be so cruel as to take the vision of a 25-year-old??? She’s prayed and prayed to no avail. Yet she’s lost a great deal in one eye and could very well end up with nothing in both eyes. Still not sure if there really is no God or if He just doesn’t care, but I can’t imagine living with no sight! They say we adapt, but still. We all have our limits as to what we can adapt to and that’s just no way to live, period. At least not for me. I’d rather be dead before I was blind or paralyzed.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 8, 2013 My niece Becky is having emergency eye surgery today. What a shitty thing to have to go through! I’m enjoying every single moment that I’m still healthy and able to do things unassisted and free of medication because I know that soon enough I will be old and start accumulating problems. Becky’s hardly old, though, so it seems all the more unfair.

Lost a pound and a half after the first day of the Alli diet, but don’t want to get my hopes up yet. Yes, 1500 is a bit high for losing weight at this age and height even with exercise, but most diets are off to a good start anyway. If I lose more than 5 pounds, then I’ll start to think, hey maybe I’m really onto something here that really does work. You still have to diet and exercise as with any weight loss program, but with this, I may not have to practically kill myself to get results by having to nearly starve myself.

It takes fewer calories to maintain lower weights and more to maintain higher weights, so the lower I go, the more I will need to cut calories. I won’t be going from 120 pounds to 110 pounds on 1500 calories!

In reading various posts on Facebook I gotta wonder why people are so damn hard to please. Really, they’re just never happy with people no matter what and they always, always complain about other people’s posts. Wouldn’t it be easier not to read them? If one’s status updates are sad, people condemn them for being down and not “pulling themselves up and booting themselves in the ass.” When people’s updates are happy and full of good things, people still complain and are quick to insist it’s just an act and that deep down they’ve got to be miserable.

Who the hell would say they were happy if they weren’t, and why? I can see not wanting to worry people if something was wrong, but I’d never lie and say I was happy when I wasn’t. Instead, I would just keep quiet about what was wrong if I didn’t want people to know about it.

And who would “choose” misery over happiness if it were possible to simply pick and choose emotions like you can food from a buffet? Sadness, stress and loneliness are the emotional equivalents of nausea. Who in their right mind would want to be “mentally nauseous?”

MONDAY, JANUARY 7, 2013 Took my first Alli pill and experienced no side effects. It’s much too soon to say whether or not it will help me lose weight, but I did notice something. We usually gain weight twice after we eat. First right away due to the weight of the food itself, then again 10-20 minutes later after the calories have a chance to get us. I usually gain 1-2 pounds depending on how much I eat, but after weighing in a half-hour after I’d eaten a regular meal, I was only up half a pound.

I’m PMSing so bad now that I’m going to be shocked, pissed and worried if I don’t get a period within a week. I have most of the usual symptoms, water retention, backaches, bloating, sore boobs and fatigue. These symptoms are getting worse, much like they do when my period is just days away. I’m having to really push myself to get anything done around here.

Just wondering if 6 months to a year of complete silence on my part really will make Kim go away forever. I’m not so sure with this particular kind of stalker due to how crazy she is, but I’ll find out someday. I miss allowing for anonymous questions but if I’ve got to deprive myself for a while to purge my life of this sicko, so be it. I’m going to be pissed if it all ends up being for nothing, though.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 2013 Another chilly morning in the low 40s, but at least we haven’t made it down into the 20s so far this year or had a dusting of snow. Haven’t seen a dusting in two years now. Of all the climates I’ve lived in, the worst was MA. Not quite as cold as OR, but still too cold/snowy in the winter and too humid in the summer. I like this climate the best so far here in NorCal. Still a little too chilly in the winters, but love the hot, dry summers that aren’t as insanely hot as AZ or so insanely dry that no amount of lotion seems to bring moisture to my skin. I think FL will be my favorite climate if I ever live there. Yes, it’s humid year-round, but warm year-round too, and the moisture would be great for my skin and hair.

It was nice to find Charlotte who added me after I sent her an add request, though I haven’t heard from her otherwise. Charlotte, Jim, Goldie and Al were definitely the best of the family friends, though Char’s the only one left alive. I’m guessing she’s in her mid-80s now, so I don’t expect her to be that active online.

The only thing that kind of sucks is that with a few exceptions, it’s usually me that sends the add invites. Why can’t more people hunt me down instead for a change and be the first to ask to add me?

I’ve been doing better on evening out the attention, so to speak. One-sided relationships of any kind have always annoyed me. So the less I hear from people, the less they’ll hear from me. The more I hear from them, the more they’ll hear from me, but within reason, of course. I’m not going to go back and forth with people all day every single day.

Nothing from Nane since before Christmas and I don’t know if she’s playing games with me or if something’s going on. I’d say something’s going on since there’s been no FB activity of any kind from her, but she won’t hear from me till I hear from her. She knows where I am.

Starting to feel more PMS-like so maybe I’ll get a period this month. I should know around the 13th.

It’s all I can do to keep myself from turning my MD blog back public and allowing for anonymous questions on Ask. It’s a struggle not to as I really miss the surprise of getting anonymous questions. It sucks big time that this psycho has to ruin it for those who just want to have fun, but as I said before, I can’t always know who I’m talking to, and I don’t want to be answering to Kim no matter how polite and innocent a question of hers may seem. She seems to go back and forth in her mind between believing we’re friends and believing I’m stalking her and her many selves. So when she’s in buddy-buddy mode, I don’t want her getting the wrong idea if I answer any “nice” questions of hers and think we’re interacting as true friends.

trollpolice.com, which gives a lot of tips and pointers on dealing with people like her, really nailed it to the point when they said it’s common for stalkers to say that we’re the ones bothering them when confronted. They definitely do love to turn tables! Or try to anyway.

All I know is that this is a genuine psycho and they’re the hardest to reason with or scare off. They either don’t realize or don’t care what they’re doing. Again, I’m glad this nutjob doesn’t live down the street and know where I live. I could probably take her cuz she’s so huge and therefore couldn’t move very fast, but this is the type of nut that would kill someone right under a cop’s nose cuz “God ordered them to,” and hey, they were only serving their Master.

Again, as much as I’m itching to go non-anonymous (though I might go public on MD where I can simply ignore feedback), I really am curious to see if she returns if I keep it this way for 6 months to a year. I think she will. Time doesn’t seem to have much meaning for people like her, and again, this is a crazy person we’re talking about, not just a meanie. It’s also someone who has nothing better to do but sit and tune into the worlds of those she harasses or would at least like to. I keep hoping she’ll go pick on others, but just like Molly does, she’ll only add them to her shit list and not replace me with them. They’ll harass however many people they are awake long enough to harass.

Later…

“Do you have any friends named Janet?” someone asked Kristi, my latest Ask pal. Why do I smell a big fat, crazy troll behind that one? So what is she going to do, question everyone that non-anonymously questions me in a way that lets me know it’s her? Thank God I’ve got my FB friends hidden!

Other than waking up with congestion that is pretty annoying, I’m looking forward to pigging out today before starting the Alli tomorrow. It will cost something like $130 a month, but I don’t care. If it works, that’s all that matters and it’s certainly cheaper than cigarettes would be.

Today, though, on top of changing the rats’ cage and catching up on things around here, we’ll be out shopping and picking up some Chinese food for me. I love that new restaurant I finally decided to try now that we have extra money. Their fried rice is awesome. Last time I got shrimp fried rice, crab puffs and ribs. I think this time I’ll just grab some pork fried rice and beef & broccoli.

As much as I love glitter nail polish, I gotta stop using it on my fingers cuz the remover I use is tearing up my cuticles. Glitter nail polish is sooo hard to remove, but since I never remove toenail polish I can use it on my toes instead of my fingers. I never have the patience to let my fingernail polish chip off completely before I am compelled to remove what’s left of it and re-polish them, and non-glitter polish comes off easily.

Later…

Tom got back with the groceries around 8:30 and at around 10:00 we went to Kmart. I didn’t have anything specific in mind. I was just browsing casually when I passed by some really cute clothes for babies. It was then that I realized I could get something for what I decided at the time would be my Baily and Twinkle dolls which are 22” and 24” long. I never had before because I didn’t know what size to get, but after getting my lifelike baby doll onesies for 0-3 month infants, I knew the same size would fit them because they’re only a few inches longer.

So, for a total of just $30, I bought a ballerina dress with a pink leopard print on the body and a pink tutu and leggings for what was going to be Twinkle and a pink but mostly purple jacket-like dress with a hoodie that zips up in front and that that also came with leggings. The jacket has a cartoonish cat with silver dots of glitter and a pink sequin sash-like thing around the waist. The leggings have plum, pink and white flowers against a lavender background. This was going to be for Bailey.

The doll’s legs tend to be a bit fat and their bodies a bit skinny for the outfits, but not enough that they couldn’t wear them. However, it was Joy who ended up looking the best after I mixed and matched outfits. Well, they all look great and this makeover was long overdue! I ditched most of their old, discolored clothes.

Joy is wearing a purple onesie I turned into a t-shirt that I got when I got a 5-pack for my lifelike baby doll, Grace. I just snipped the ends off and tucked the hem. The leggings she wears is the purple one that came with a top Twinkle is now wearing.

Bailey is wearing the cute little ballerina dress. No leggings, though. The pink leggings that came with it are on Twinkle.

I also got a gorgeous Jaclyn Smith necklace with “diamonds.” A few of the stones are multicolored depending on how the light hits them and are totally gorgeous. If you like shiny things and colorful things like I do, you’d totally love it.

I got pink glitter nail polish, even though the last thing I need is another bottle of nail polish. It’s a shade of pink I don’t have, though, and well, I guess I’m a nail polish addict.

Lastly, I got a 3-pack of Body Fantasies sprays – Love Struck, Strawberries & Champagne, and Va Va Voom!

The weather was cloudy, damp and cold, but at least the sun wasn’t glaring in our eyes. I also got to test out my new crossbody purse. I found it more comfortable to pull it slightly toward the front of me as opposed to the side. I didn’t like the way the strap pulled on the side of my neck before.

Tom found some fun electronic gadgets so he could have some fun for the few precious hours he gets off a week, at Radio Shack.

Our last stop was for Chinese food. I got pork fried rice, fried wontons, and a side of beef and broccoli. I love the rice even if it’s a bit carroty, but the beef and broccoli are just so-so cuz the broccoli is a bit tough and huge, too. I gave the carrot slivers to the rats.

Not sure if I’m going to start the Alli tomorrow or the next day with all the junk I’ve got, but I may start with 1 or 2 pills a day instead of 3.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 4, 2013 sighs Kim has taken her stalking to new levels, now harassing people on other sites and not just Ask. She tried to friend a friend as “Janet M” on FB, but they knew better, since Janet, Janice and other variations of those names are either names she likes to go by or names she’s given her alters.

She once left the most insane feedback I’ve ever received, thus proving how truly crazy she really is and convincing me more and more that she truly does have MPD. If she doesn’t, then she’s a damn good actress. It wasn’t just what she said and the fact that she’s getting more brazen by the minute, but the constant usage of the words “we” and “us.” The things she says and does, knowing most of her family was/is crazy, and the sheer size of her all spell MPD. It’s very common for those who were sexually abused as kids not only to end up with MPD but also to eat themselves huge so that they think they’re less appealing in the eyes of their abuser. This is what I read anyway.

I honestly don’t think she’s fully aware of her actions as her alters take over for her and I think she’s just too crazy to care that if she keeps this up she could very well end up in jail. She’s leaving an electronic trail everywhere she goes, even though she uses bogus names and email addies.

What pisses me off is feeling powerless to do anything about it until the laws toughen up. It infuriates me to know that she can harass me at will and no one will do shit, but the cops thought they could cry “Case!” against me last year simply for using a website’s features? HA! Then again we all know that wasn’t no cop and that there never was any case since, A, I never broke any laws, and B, I came up with about 15 different things they fucked up on to show it was clearly a joke and a lame attempt to scare me. I know who it was. They know who it was. And if they ever come to my door… well… I won’t even get started on that one.

Back on topic. Kim. Kim unhinged and getting more and more delusional and deranged by the minute. It really sucks that my online life has to include such childish crazy shit from sickos like this. The number of insults, lies and threats she edited into my entry must’ve taken her quite a bit of time. So sad that some people have nothing better to do than devote so much time and energy into stalking those who were good to them. Ah, but I can type faster and so I had fun editing her shit to piss her off even more.

What’s scary is that these are the kinds of people who kill people cuz “the little voices in their head told them to” or for some other delusional reason. My life could be in serious danger if she or the people who victimized me in Arizona ever found me. The Arizona people cuz of hate, this one cuz of insanity.

Again, Kim obviously has no problem with providing more and more evidence against herself and building a case that could ultimately land her in jail. I honestly believe at this point that she’s just too crazy to care. I think she hates herself so much that jail would be the same as being home to her and that any place you stick her is all the same to her. She simply has no conscience or any concept of right and wrong. I can just imagine all the others who have been and are being stalked by this crazy bitch. But again, I think that even if 20 cops swarmed her place and threatened to throw her ass in jail if she kept it up, she wouldn’t give a shit, most likely because she either wouldn’t remember harassing people or she simply wouldn’t believe she was doing anything wrong. She is really beginning to make Molly look like a saint and I can just imagine how many times she falsely accused Molly of picking on her when it was actually the other way around.

Well, Kim, you’ll just have to harass me from other sites now, and please do. You may not mind a stint in jail, but just as soon as you give me enough evidence to get you there is as soon as I get to get a break from you, even if it’s only for a short while. So why not do me the favor since jail is no problem for you?

Speaking of jail and home, what is this thing doing in the free world anyway? I don’t understand why she’s not in some kind of controlled environment as crazy as she is.

Someone just suggested it could be someone pretending to be Kim to make it look like she’s worse than she really is, but I don’t think so. I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t see who’s on the other end of the computer, but the spelling and choice of words seem classic Kim to me. Really surprised she hasn’t shown up on my tracker, but I’m sure she will soon enough.

Interesting possibility, though, cuz if it’s not Kim, then that leaves a million possibilities, including those I’d least suspect.

Later…

Completed one of the programmed intensity workouts yesterday on my treadmill, but really realized that my body is still barely responding to diet and exercise. I considered going back to smoking to give it a boost since smoking elevates your heartbeat, I have congestion at times anyway, and we can afford it. I could always quit again later on.

Tom said before I do that, why not try Alli? It’s this thing that’s supposed to block the absorption of fat/calories. It started as a prescription drug but is now available over the counter. Possible side effects include gas and the runs. I read the reviews on it on Walmart’s site and most are pretty positive, so maybe I’ll try that first. If not, I probably will return to smoking. Been thinking about it anyway, though it would be for weight control only. I have no desire to smoke for other reasons, though it could shorten my life and even out our lifespans since he’s 8 years older than me. If I don’t figure out something, the problem isn’t going to go away and will probably get even worse with time. I’m really getting sick of working so hard just to keep re-losing the same few pounds over and over again.

Getting slammed with spam again and as if it weren’t annoying enough to have so many companies spamming me, they’re sending me the same damn messages over and over again all day long. Do they realize they’re doing this or has their spam machine gone crazy?

Muneeba joined Ask and is really a very lovely young lady, now that I’ve seen her picture. She’s not allowing for anonymous questions, fortunately, or else Kim would come at her pretending to be whoever.

Sarah’s posts are funny, bitching about the cold and snow and then a rat that was in her salon. They were all scared of it so they got some guy to get rid of it for them.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 3, 2013 How can any sane, normal, rational human being read this and not agree that Muslims are fucked with a capital F? Not the women and children mind you. No, they’re the victims actually, and I feel bad as hell for them. It’s the fucking cocks that are a problem! But shhh!!! This is America. We’re supposed to speak nicey-nicey about everyone who isn’t gay, right? Well, as fucked as my own country can be at least I don’t have to fear being legally raped simply because someone may be having a rough time in life.

Even one of the commentators said they’re getting sick of defending them the more they read shit like this. Really folks, what kind of society feels the best solution to stress is to go out and commit crimes and violate women???

It’s also a clear reminder that God is just as bad for allowing shit like this to run rampant in the Middle East. Just like one is just as bad for standing back and allowing a child to be abused without doing anything to stop it or at least report it, it takes a really sick God who’s pretty sexist Himself to allow for such sadistic shit. Oh, but He loves us all, right? He really does.

Kim is continuing to play with me on Ask. I’m 99% sure it’s her. Someone who obviously read my journal said that they were the ones to ask about my rats, not Kim, and don’t I know who they are?

If they were anyone other than Kim and with good intentions, they’d have come out and identified themselves by now. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if my “pretty lady” questioner was also Kim.

sighs What have I ever done to this nutjob to deserve this? I was always good to her. Why won’t she just let me go as I asked and move on? We’re never going to be friends again, so what’s the point in holding on? Don’t people want to be surrounded by those who actually care about them? I never would’ve guessed that Kim M of all people would pester me like this. But like it or not, if I ever hope to build a case against her, I have to keep the line of unwanted communication open.

That’s another thing about this giant nut that’s a little chilling. Doesn’t that possibility worry her? She seems to have no empathy and no apparent concern for her own well-being either. Does she not know what the hell she’s doing or does she just not care that she could be building a case against herself? Does she really not care what happens to her? Would she really not mind going to court and maybe even to jail? Or maybe she just thinks she’s invincible or something.

Some have suggested I ignore her, but it’s not that easy when you can’t always tell which questions could be from her. Sometimes she makes it obvious, but other times she’ll ask me a totally innocent question like if I know any French. Answering that, in her mind, is her way of pretending – or maybe even believing – that we’re old buddies. But again, unless I deprive myself of the fun of anonymous questions, I can’t always know whom I’m answering. So ignoring her altogether isn’t possible this way, and unfortunately, I can’t psychically erase any memory of me or my sites from her sick little brain, or else I’d do it in a heartbeat.

Maybe it’s time to go to Formspring as shitty as it is. We can seldom change backgrounds on Ask anyway. Andy can keep his Ask account, but I’ll probably deactivate mine. That would piss off and frustrate the troll more than anything else I could do, since she doesn’t have the guts to come at me out of anonymity, and I like how we can use animated backgrounds on Formspring. I know Andy would like me to stay on Ask, but sometimes we gotta do what we want. At least I considered him for a while and stayed on this long. Anonymous questions will be more fun in a place where I’m not pretty sure most of them are from this tub of shit that just won’t let go unless I let go for her.

The next question is whether or not I should share this publicly. I know she would get off on it, but it’s still MY journal. So unless it deals with personal issues involving friends, I think I should write for myself as I did before I started sharing my journal online and not worry about how others may react.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 2, 2013 Didn’t do much yesterday, but hey, it was New Year’s Day. Other than a quick run to the store, it was nice to be able to just relax and do whatever without doing any cleaning or laundry. All I did was the dishes.

Got over $500 in taxes heading our way as soon as we file, so that’s all the more to help with the move I still feel will never happen. I mean, I know it will sooner or later, but right now it feels like it’s way, way in the future.

The cock up the hill was back to running and gunning its motorcycle now that the weather has dried up and warmed up a bit. After 10 minutes of that fucking thing rumbling throughout this place I already missed the rain. But the 5-cast is calling for dry days in the upper 50s.

I was shocked to find myself down two whole pounds in just a day, but still no period on the horizon. I think that if I don’t get it by my next would-be period in a couple of weeks, then I very well may never get it again. I still worry I’m going to lose control of my weight and gain up a storm no matter how much I diet and exercise, but I know that prayer is worthless because it all comes down to fate. We can’t pray for what isn’t meant to be and we need not pray for what is meant to be, because if it’s meant to be it will be.

Maliheh sure makes me want to shake her when I hear her bitch about being 108 pounds and needing to trim 4” off her waist. Well, I need to trim more like a foot off my waist! As I told her, “I’ve got nearly 40 pounds on you, so shut up.”

I feel bad for her because the neighbors are back to the same old shit. The black neighbors, that is, that are favored by most laws/courts these days. Their dog’s barking every morning and sometimes in the middle of the night. She said it stopped by the time she called the cops out at 2am one night. What a surprise, huh? So now she’s ready to do what she has to do to get them removed. I’m totally with her on that, but after what happened to us for sending in city letters for our own black assholes, I worry about her a bit. They may not happen to have a pig pal, but still, people take being complained on pretty hard even if they know damn well they deserved it. They’ll take it like you’re totally wrong for complaining on them and like you’re victimizing them. What better time for blacks to play the race card and play victim than at a time when they are automatically believed and sympathized with no matter what? And I can promise her they’ll cry racism and that they will be believed no matter what stories they make up. Mine told the media I took a teddy bear and hung it from their clothesline from a noose. What’s the catch? I never owned a teddy bear back then and they never had a clothesline in their backyard either. But they were black and I was white and so they were the ones people believed. Other than family and friends, of course, who knew me.

Not saying she shouldn’t try to fight for what’s right. Just saying that even if they don’t have connections to law enforcement, they could still retaliate somehow and make life even worse for her.

Another thing that sucks is that even if these assholes ceased to exist, new ones are probably going to replace them. Same with if she moves. She’ll probably get the same old shit there, too. The mainstream is full of the same old smorgasbord of chaos – barking, loud music, screaming kids, etc. She’s got to get out of the mainstream. She’s just got to. Problem is it just ain’t that easy for her. I’m sure she could afford to rent an apartment or a trailer in a park, but the problem is that she teaches from home. She can’t be giving guitar lessons to kids in an adult community.

Had a nightmare where I was kidnapped. The dream only lasted for a few seconds, but I was in a large, old house like the kind that’s common in New England. I knew several people were in it, though I couldn’t see them at first. I ran and hid behind a door, then I sprung through the back door and into a tiny courtyard sort of like what we had behind our second house in Longmeadow. I woke up screaming for help.

The rats are having a field day with the empty soda box I gave them, tearing it up like it’s an enemy trying to kill them, LOL.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 1, 2013 Dear God (if you’re up there):

This is the year my husband and I take back what You took from us twice, first in Arizona and then again in Oregon. That would be a home of our own, God. It won’t be the biggest home. It won’t be the nicest home. But it will be OUR home. And while You are allowing countless other innocent children to be abused like You did with me, or even much worse than with me, we will remain in this home of ours until and if WE decide to move. Not when You decide by way of an economic collapse or by any other means. Furthermore, I expect all my days there to be sunny. Not filled with loud, wild, rude, crazy and obnoxious neighbors/mutts.

You need not treat me like a queen. You need not treat me like I’m special. You need not bless me with anything above and beyond what I deserve. But You do need to let us live in at least relative peace in our future home for as long as WE want to because I won’t have it any other way next time around! Yeah, God, get ready for a rude awakening. The one that comes when I put my foot down this year, yank the wheel out of Your hands, and take over the driver’s seat of my own life… vroom, vroom, vroom!

So now that my try-and-stop-me-now spiel is out of the way, happy New Year everyone. I hope you too, get the things you want and not the things you don’t want. Although, not all unplanned things in life are bad. I didn’t plan on Tom!

Not much else other than that the scanning job is done and after studying the pics of both sets of grandparents again, no, that wasn’t in the house next door to the one I grew up in. I don’t know where it was, but I do know I have to eat and work out now.

Later…

Photo Bucket is really pissing me off. First I’m forced to their new and highly buggy version, which won’t let me arrange photos in the albums the way I want them to be, but now it seems I’m back to the old version. For how long, I don’t know. I thought of uploading to MyOpera but that would suck up my space there big time. Maybe I should just fill up that account and then use another blog.

As a psychic, I usually get a good sense of what’s in store for the year to come on New Year’s Eve. I was looking back on past predictions when posting the last day of each year that I wrote and found that I did a pretty good job for the most part. I really fucked up with the years 2005 and 2007, though. Anyway, I guess I must not be very psychic anymore because I didn’t get much this year. Not in my dreams and not when I awoke at a quarter to midnight. Change in April, the color blue, and someone else dying are pretty much all I sensed.

But who could die this year that we know? His Mom’s in the 90s and seemingly immortal, and Bill’s cancer, unfortunately, is operable.

Sometimes I think of shitheads like Bill and wonder if they have a clue just how lucky they are. Lucky that they didn’t get with a bitch like me who would fight back. Then again, these cowards usually go for women they know won’t fight back or that will take an awful lot of shit before they finally do. Sooner or later they usually underestimate a woman and go up against the wrong one, but still, I doubt Bill would have had the guts to fuck with me like he did had I lived near him at the time. No, Billy boy, for you just might find you’re not as tough as you think you are, right?

So who the hell’s gonna die this year if my vibes are correct? Tom and I are healthy, Tammy’s condition isn’t fatal, and therefore I don’t have a clue where to begin guessing since I know an awful lot of people. Norma? Milton?

Not much happening today. Just a trip to the store and some fun stuff. Gonna rename my offline picture files and sort through those, then I’ll upload some more to Photo Bucket for now. Gotta proofread all the January 2nd entries, too.

[scudismystud]

As someone who has Lupus and POTS who just had their first run in (and hopefully last) with Covid, here’s some tips from my experience. I’ve included the TLDR up at the top but click read more to get the full breakdown.

Tldr: Drink a lot of liquids, take a fever reducer (dual action works great) and monitor your fever constantly, take hot showers, use tissues with lotion, peppermint for nausea, heating pad is your friend for the aches and pains, check your O2 (don’t let it dip below 90), if you start sweating ditch the clothes, and sleep when you can.

Fever

Dual action Advil every 8 hours. Do it. You will thank me. You’ll probably still have a low grade fever while taking it but you won’t be struck with the worst chills of your life like you’d have without it.

Sore throat

Anything cold if you can handle it and a good mouthwash. I use a Peroxyl mouthwash and gurgle it. I prefer sherbet push pops but anything cold will help. Hot green tea with honey helps soothe the pain too. Add some lemon and it will help with your congestion too.

Body Aches

If you have bad circulation like me, your legs will hurt so bad you’ll debate cutting them off. Find a foot warmer and massager. You will be glad you did. This paired with the dual action should hopefully get the aches down to a tolerable level. Also a bath/shower can help calm down the intense aches. Just monitor your fever because too much heat could spike your fever too high.

Congestion

Get some tissues with lotion. Like at least 3 boxes. Don’t debate me on this. Your nose will thank you. I’ve been through an entire box in 3 days and my nose, while still horribly congested, at least doesn’t hurt from bad quality tissues. And on that note, blow your nose. Do it or you’ll be coughing the junk up instead and your very sore throat will not be happy about that.

Also take lots of showers. Let the steam help clear up your sinuses.

Cough

I really haven’t found much to help this besides making sure the room doesn’t get too hot and blowing my nose as much as possible. If anyone has recommendations, I’d love to add them here.

Also if you have a productive cough, do not take anything to stop the coughing. As much as the coughing sucks, you got to get that crap out.

Back pain

This gets its own category because it is not like the achy pains this is a very muscle spasm like pain. Using a heating pad on low will take the edge off. And try to be still as much as you can while hurting. A hot shower will also help just check your fever before doing this.

Sweating

Just don’t wear clothes once this starts or you’ll drench your clothes and make yourself cold. If you have a sheet liner or an extra fitted sheet you might use that because you will sweat a lot. Take lots of showers to get rid of the sticky feeling from the sweat.

Nausea/upset stomach

Peppermint can help settle a bit of nausea. Some of the nausea is from mucus that needs to come up though so very important to cough any up if you feel it at the back of your throat. You let it settle too long and you’ll vomit it up. Your body is going to get it out one way or another.

Your stomach will hate you the entire time. I’ve found a little carbonation helps settle mine but I know this is different from person to person.

Other useful tips:

Check your O2. Even if you have a mild case, your O2 could still be affected. Anything lower than 90 is not good. If your O2 starts to dip and you feel okay, you should still reach out to a dr.

Don’t stop taking your other meds unless a dr tells you to stop them. And be sure to check interactions of any new medications you start (even over the counter ones) with medications you’re already taking.

Be prepared to lose your sense of smell and taste. Focus more on textures you like and can handle to help motivate yourself to eat. I’ve found jello to be a nice thing to eat even though I can’t taste it. Try to stay away from crunchy things as your throat will already feel like you’ve gurgled nails.

Drink water. Drink juice to mix things up. Drink a soda to help settle your stomach. Drink green tea and honey if your throat hurts. Drink things. Mostly water. Drink a lot. The more you drink, the better you’ll feel.

I’m not gonna sugar coat this, the mucus inside you is going to be like wet concrete. It’s so thick and will make you feel like your head weighs a million pounds and makes you gag when you cough. Still you got to get that mess out. Blow your nose and cough up what you can as much as you can. You will feel a little better each time you do. And if you are taking an expectorant please do yourself a favor and drink at least 8oz of water at the time you take the meds. Expectorants only work if you’re hydrated.

You won’t sleep at night. You just won’t. For some reason everything is worse at night and it’s just absolute misery. Don’t bother trying to sleep if you are too miserable. Distract yourself. Watch a movie. Crochet. Color (coloring helps stress). Read fanfiction. Do whatever you can to distract yourself because stressing yourself out to try to sleep at night will not help you.

If you have a little one like me (she’s 3) don’t be surprised if they bounce back within a day. This latest strain of Covid has been very mild towards small children. The best advice for you that I have is to invest in a baby gate and have one room that baby proof. You sleep in that room while baby plays because you probably won’t get any sleep at night. Have things they can eat that don’t require much effort from you. My daughter loves beechnut pouches which I give her before I take a nap.

For my fellow Lupus people, everything is probably going to be more intense for you but especially the body aches. Make sure you have some way to help deal with the added pain because it’s a doozy.

For my fellow POTs people, take your salt. Take it. I know those cow pills such to take with a sore throat but take them anyway. Your circulation is about to get 10 times worse so you will need the salt. You can try heat to help the circulation instead of compression stockings because those might hurt like hell while the body aches are at their worst. I’m a mild case so I don’t pass out with the condition but for those of you who do that’s likely going to get worse so please be mindful when you stand up or take those hot showers. I’ve gotten close to kissing the floor a few times even with my mild diagnosis.

[backslashmagpie]

Hi! I recently got my diagnosis and am awaiting an appointment with my local ME/CFS specialist team. I’m based in the U.K. and I’m not sure where you are, so there may be some regional differences here, and I’m definitely on the milder end of the severity spectrum, but I can share my experiences and hopefully you’ll find it somewhat useful.

I first started experiencing symptoms in 2019 (I was 19 at the time)—nausea, fatigue, more sleep disturbance than usual, feeling unusually overwhelmed, appetite changes, ‘episodes’ where I would lie down in bed and be so tired I couldn’t move for hours. I spoke to the therapist I was seeing at the time, and she told me to speak to my GP, and I did, and they were… less than helpful. Did a blood draw, diagnosed me with some vitamin deficiencies, gave me supplements that did little to alleviate my symptoms and sent me on my way.

I spent the next few years going to doctors on and off, being told to eat healthy and exercise, to take this medication for my sleep, to try therapy, and doing all of those things, all the while experiencing periods where my symptoms were quite pronounced followed by periods of partial remission where I felt nearly normal. I missed a lot of classes and somehow managed to scrape by getting my degree. I got sick a handful of times over that period, and each time I’d come away from it with a new chronic symptom: sore throat, chronic cough, joint pains, phantom fevers, headaches, GI issues.

2023 feels like it was the final nail in the coffin for me: over the course of the year I slowly started losing functionality and those periods of partial remission all but vanished. I’m definitely more well than a lot of people with this illness, and I’m grateful for it, but I’m no longer able to stand for more than 15 minutes without pain; I’m no longer to leave my house for more than a couple hours without nausea and dizziness setting in; if I don’t lie down as soon as I finish work in the evenings (I work from home) I start shaking uncontrollably and manifest more symptoms throughout the course of the evening. I have days where I can’t get out of bed at all.

Last year I moved to a new town and registered with a new GP, and I decided to go and see if they could be any help at all after giving up on my last doctors. The main symptoms I highlighted were being tired all the time and those ‘episodes’ where I was unable to move; I also highlighted the effect it was having on my life and on my job and how long I’d been having the symptoms. They took me seriously enough to order multiple rounds of blood tests (which no doctor had ever done before), and the doctor who ended up becoming the ‘main’ doctor I saw asked me about the other core symptoms they use to diagnose ME/CFS in the U.K.: sleep disturbance and cognitive dysfunction. When all my blood work came back clear we had an appointment where she went through a list of symptoms with me and I told her which ones I was experiencing; she then made the diagnosis and referred me to the specialist (who I’m still waiting to see).

This is a very simplified version of my story, so if you have any more questions feel free to ask! I hope you at least found this interesting, if not helpful.

heyyyy folks with myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome. tell me your stories. really starting to think that's been my problem that ive had for years and has only gotten worse with my covid (and now flu) infections...

what's the process like for getting diagnosed? what symptoms clued you in that made you think you had it? how do you manage it? what was the factor that got your doctor to believe you? HAVE you even been officially diagnosed? how do you manage it? how old were you when you noticed it/how long has it been/what has managing it for however long it's been been like?

I'll be doing my own research as well but i would love first hand accounts from anyone who has it (or know someone who does) who is willing to talk about it

[farfromstrange]

I love reading sick!reader fics more than anything, but I just had the funniest thought and now I can’t stop thinking about it:

Matt Murdock would be ever the considerate mother hen when his partner is sick, we’ve established that, but I’ve been coughing for the past twelve hours with only five minutes in between fits and they’re so loud, even my mom in the next room just texted me if I’m “suffocating or still alive”. And you can pretty much hear it through the entire building, too.

IMAGINE poor Matt having to live with that for three days until the cold gets better or the medicine starts to take effect… I know he’d take good care of me, but I also know he’d have to resist the urge to run at the ghastly sound of the mucus coming up my throat and whatever’s left stuck in my lungs. Let alone the wheezing breath and the snot I keep blowing into the several tissues around me. Or touching me while I’m burning up like a bonfire? That man is sensitive enough already, he doesn’t need my head to give him third-degree burns.

It would either go something like this (the classic):

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up, your skin is clammy and you’re breathing funny. Did you take any medicine for that cough? Do you need me to get you something for your sore throat? How about a shower, a bath, some soup? Well, even though you don’t want it, I still got you all of that. And now I’m getting undressed and will cuddle you until you can finally fall asleep again. No buts.”

Or he’d completely lose his mind:

“Sweetheart, baby, love of my life, I worship the ground you walk on and I’d do anything for you, but I can’t possibly be next to you when you’re coughing like that. It’s like you’re screaming into my ear. But I’m gonna stay here anyway because your lungs sound funny, you’re hot and your nose is bleeding, I need to make sure you make it through the night. Let me get you some Tylenol and then I’ll just… sit here and wait until you’re asleep. While you quite literally sound like you’re dying. A broken record in my ear. Yup, no worries at all. I’ll just… sit it out. This is not about me.”

And every time I’d cough, he’d shoot up, check if I’m still alive and then he’d put some headphones on to ignore the sound of my body quite literally ejecting whatever virus it’s got. It sounds nasty even to me, so I can’t possibly imagine what it would be like to someone who can hear the Subway moving underneath his apartment, or a woman screaming all the way across the city.

I know he’d love me and take the best care of me even though he’s suffering, but that would be torture on his senses, let alone his worry radar. He’d be so on edge, he wouldn’t even get any rest, but he’d never leave me. He would try to tune it out, but as someone with covid lungs (even though she’s fully vaccinated and had it two times) tuning out the sound of my soul leaving my body is pretty impossible, let alone the sniffling because I can’t stand using tissues anymore at this point because everything’s raw.

So, I love sick fics and they offer me great comfort, but it is impossible for me to stop thinking about this now and I somehow find that funnier than I should. That’s probably the fever talking or whatever.

Poor Matty… He’d go absolutely insane, and he’d be more than relieved when the cough is over and I’m on my feet again.

And if he’s sick? Boy, you need to tie him down and knock him out. He hates being sick and whatever comes with it. The way it feels, sounds and turns his senses into mush. He’s delirious when he has a fever and he acts like a reckless child. You need to sedate him or he’ll actually crawl up the walls (like a cat).

So yeah, that’s that.

[humanrindswrites]

doctor

summary: reader is sick and it's up to 'doctor' taylor to look after her

pairing: corey taylor x female reader/oc

warnings: sickfic, fevers, fluff

word count: 899 words

originally posted to ao3 september 22 2022

She was dying. She had to be. Nobody could cough as loud as she had and not be on the brink of death.

It had only been a couple of days since her cold had started, and at first, she’d managed to convince Corey that it was nothing for him to worry about, but now she couldn’t get out of bed without her joints hurting and her migraine seemed like it was never going to go away. She didn’t know how bad her fever had gotten exactly, but it must have been over 100 degrees.

He couldn’t call himself a medical expert by any stretch of the imagination, but Corey really did try his best to take care of her while she was bedridden. His own medication was as simple as taking a couple of painkillers, sleeping it off and shutting the fuck up about it, but he knew it wasn’t a good remedy for everyone.

She’d slept for what felt like an entire day when she was woken up by the bedroom door softly clicking open. Her eyes prised themselves open and through the bleariness, she could see him approach the bed with a glass of water and something in his other hand. As soon as she raised her head, her headache came back, strong enough to knock her back down. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her arm over them to block out the light from the doorway.

“What time is it?” she croaked, her throat so dry and sore it felt like she’d swallowed a razor.

“About three p.m,” he said as he sat on the bed beside her and placed the glass on the nightstand. “You’ve been asleep all day.”

She took her arm away from her eyes and let them adjust to the low light as she slowly sat up, her joints stiff from not being used for so long. Her nose was completely blocked and her skull felt like it was about to burst open from the pain. She tried her best to hold a cough in but couldn’t help from hacking so hard a lung could have come up.

“I’d ask if you’re feeling any better, but that tells me everything I need to know,” he said as he reached around her to stroke her back.

“I feel like I got hit by a bus,” she rasped as she tried to catch her breath, her body trembling under his palm.

“I’ve never seen someone get wiped out by a cold like this,” he said. “Maybe you should go see a doctor.”

“It’s fine, just give me a week and I’ll be back on my feet.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced. Especially since she looked like she was about to fall asleep again.

“Here,” he said as he opened his palm and revealed two pills. “Take these before I go get us something to eat.”

“Will you stay for a while?” she asked as she took the pills and the glass from him.

“Sure,” he said. 

He watched as she took both the pills and finished the glass of water before lying back down and patting his side of the bed. Once he lay down beside her, he gathered her into his arms and rested her head on his chest as he gently stroked her hair. He could feel the heat of her fever through her scalp and hear how her chest rattled with each breath.

Every part of him was telling him that he shouldn’t be so close to her while she was so unwell, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She clung to him as if she was afraid of letting him go and he was willing to let her for as long as she wanted.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, his voice soft. “Apart from the obvious.”

“I just miss you,” she said before sniffling.

“How do you miss me? You see me every day.”

“I know but we haven’t been able to do normal things.”

“And what counts as ‘normal’?”

She lifted her head slightly so that she could look at him. She hated making him worry about her, especially when he always had so much on his plate. Recording, touring, publicity, and home life was already so many things to juggle, having a sick girlfriend could have been that one thing to make him drop everything.

“This,” she said, gesturing at the two of them. “Being able to cuddle like this, or just have time with each other because I’m either asleep or too full of germs to do anything.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said as he brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. “If I could make it all better right now, I would. But the best I can do is bring you meds and hold you like this.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick too?”

“I’ve had worse than what you’ve got, I’ll live.”

She stiffly crawled up his body to softly kiss his lips, trying her best to not breathe her germs on him too much.

“Thank you, babe,” she said against his lips.

“No need to thank me,” he said. “I’m happy to play doctor for you when you need it.”

“Hmm, what would I do without the great Doctor Taylor?” she teased.

“Probably get better faster but with fewer cuddles,” he said with a soft laugh.

[reveristcalicocan]

Hi!

This is my request! I had to rewrite it because it got lost :/ but I hope this is good enough!

If it’s alright, I’d like to request a Heizou x gn! reader where reader has the stomach flu and is staying home from work, frequently throwing up with a light fever, pounding headache and their body feeling extremely sore. Heizou decides to come over, absence at work was a rare occurrence for them so he took it as his duty to check up on them. He allowed himself inside after no one answered the door and found them heavily breathing in their bed, wide awake again after trying so hard to fall asleep for hours. They greeted him from their bed but as soon as they tried to get up they felt the urge to vomit, emptying their stomach into the bowl on their bedside they had set aside for those moments. They were coughing and tearing up, apologizing immediately that he had to witness something so disgusting. They were embarrassed too. He on the other hand was more concerned than disgusted, taking care of them for the rest of the day. After feeding them, giving them medicine and emptying their bowl multiple times into the toiled he let them straddle his lap and cry against his shoulder in pain, as he gently held them and rubbed comforting circles on their back until they finally fell asleep in his arms.

I had the stomach flu when I originally sent this one in and was craving some comfort so if this makes you uncomfortable and/or you don’t want to write it, it’s absolutely alright! thank you anyways <3

Hihi no worries, i’m perfectly fine with writing sickfics, as long as it’s not fetishes/kinks! Hope you’re doing better, i’m so sorry i couldn’t write this for you when you needed it 😞

THROUGH SICKNESS AND HEALTH

Heizou X gn!reader

Warnings: throwing up, induced vomiting, fever, headaches, body pain, being sick in general

You weren’t quite sure why you still set an alarm for this morning. The past two days had been awful, and today? Not any better.

Turning off your alarm, you forced yourself to get some water. You felt sick, but you knew that your body was dehydrated. Filling the cup to the brim, you took a small sip, letting the water soothe your dry throat.

Despite your multiple attempts to fall asleep, the constant pain and soreness was an unfriendly visitor. You would think about how much work you left undone, the piles of paper stacking up on your desk.

Taking slow breaths, you lay on your side, curling in on yourself and hoping that sleep will come easily.

—

Heizou once again poked his head into your office. He always did, but you weren’t there.

He found it rather weird, you weren’t one to slack off or miss work… and yet it’s been three consecutive days since he last saw you.

Could something have happened?

An unfavourable frown was etched onto Heizou’s face. He debated wether he should check on you.

Better safe than sorry…

It was a good thing you had given him a set of spare keys in case of emergency. Frankly he wasn’t sure if it was an emergency… if it wasn’t, he would not want to invade your house. But if it was…

Silence greeted him. Not even the sound of you trampling down the stairs to open the door.

Maybe you weren’t at home… or maybe you were sleeping, taking a shower… out of the house… The more Heizou thought about it the more worried he got. Taking out his phone he quickly called you.

You reached out a hand to silence the buzzing, not bothering to see who it was. The incessant ringing bringing a pain to your head. If you weren’t so miserable right now, you would have sworn you heard the sound of your door opening.

On the other side Heizou had unlocked the door, cautiously looking around. It certainly didn’t look like you were inside but he knew better than that.

Rushing up the stairs, he felt a sense of relief when he saw your bedroom door open. He was about to knock and call out your name when he realised the way you were breathing heavily. The blanket covering you moving up and down particularly fast.

“…y/n? what’s wrong?” Now Heizou was really worried.

He immediately went over to your side, kneeling down so that he was eye level with you.

“!!” Your eyes widened by just a fraction seeing him in front of you. “H-heizou… hi what are you—” Your apparent shock from his visit suddenly turned into a sense of urgency and discomfort.

Bringing the trash can up to your face, a few empty gags later and a thin stream of watery vomit was being emptied into the the bin.

The water which you had tried so hard to keep down failing you as you vomited your stomach out while coughing and crying miserably. You hadn’t intended for Heizou to see you in this state. Especially not when you were hunched over a trash can with disgusting bile spewing out of your mouth.

You muttered apology after apology, the tears falling in a never ending stream of embarrassment. Heizou was quick to hold you hand and reassure you that he didn’t mind.

Really, he didn’t. Seeing you in so much pain was already heartbreaking for him, his hand rubbed circles on your back as you cried into your hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this… I’m sor- Im so sorry!” You hiccuped, still crying out an apology.

All you wanted to do now was sink into a hole so deep that no one would be able to find you.

Maybe it was the delirium but you were half expecting Heizou to leave you alone and get disgusted at you.

“shh, don’t apologise. Calm down, i’m not upset i just want to help you.” He brought your head towards his shoulder, hugging you in his warm embrace.

His hands rubbed your shoulders, whispering reassuring words in your ear. Once your cries had turned into small sniffling, Heizou pulled away, his warm eyes looking into yours with so much care and gentleness.

“I’m going to empty the trash can and see if there’s any food you can eat okay?” His words came out as a soft whisper.

You nodded your head, hiccuping again.

After helping you lie down, Heizou did as he said and emptied the trash can, heading to your kitchen. There was practically nothing except for some cup noodles that was definitely not an option.

Letting out a defeated sigh, he only had one other choice which was to call someone to help.

—

Going back up to your room, Heizou closed the door behind him, setting down the bowl of porridge on your bedside table.

Helping you into a sitting position, he spoon fed you the porridge, making sure that i wasn’t too hot before giving it to you.

“don’t worry, i’m just going to throw the rubbish and get you some water.” He gave you a smile, letting you know he wasn’t leaving you.

After passing you a painkiller, he sat next to you on the bed, brushing the hair out of your face. You were still hugging the trash can, a bad feeling settling in your stomach.

Your fruitless attempts to keep the food down was over when your mouth started to fill with excess saliva. Heizou pulled your hair aside with one hand, the other rubbing your back.

Even after a few minutes all that came out was your saliva, leaving you gagging into the bucket. Tears stained your cheeks as another harsh retch fired its way out of your throat.

You didn’t understand why there was nothing coming up, the discomfort in your body was already making you restless.

Before you knew it, you had started crying again, Heizou only kissed your forehead trying to comfort you.

“H-heizou i feel miserable…” Your soft voice came out like a squeak.

“I know, I know. If you’d like I could try to help you…” Hearing this you hastily agreed.

Sitting upright now, Heizou stuck two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue earning a strangled cry from you. You coughed a few times but that was it.

Using a bit more force this time, Heizou pressed down again, this time successfully triggering your gag reflex. Pulling out his hand just in time, you started throwing up your food into the trash can.

The murky yellowish liquid filled the can, your back hunched over in defeat. A while later your vomit tapered off and left you breathing heavily.

“Do you think you’re done?” Heizou who had never left your side the entire time finally spoke up.

“mhm” you answered meekly.

Passing you the cup of water, you rinsed your mouth, letting the disgusting taste get washed out.

You slowly leaned your body against the headboard of your bed as Heizou went to clean up the bin. Breathing still erratic, you placed a hand on your chest trying to calm down.

—

It was already quite late in the night, after a few more incidents, you were completely drained. The fatigue of not getting a good sleep catching up to you.

Heizou had let you straddle his lap, your head hidden in his neck, muffling your cries. His arms wrapped around you protectively, giving you the comfort you needed.

It didn’t matter how long it took for you to fall asleep because Heizou stayed with you the entire night, rubbing circles into your back and making sure you were alright.

[urimaginespimp]

A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas.

Bucky x Reader with fever.

Thank you @daredarling for the “you’ve gotten sick and Bucky takes care of you” idea.

——–

You should’ve known better than to race Sam under a thunderstorm last night. Waking up the next morning, you had a massive headache, your muscles felt sore, and you were shivering.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Barnes says you’re half an hour late in training.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke, making you groan and bring your comforters above you.

“Tell him to fuck off.” you muffled under the sheets.

Barnes… He has been nothing but a pain in the ass to you. To this day, you don’t know what you’ve done for him to dislike you this much. And as if his snarky comments and glares thrown your way wasn’t enough, Steve actually paired you both for missions and trainings.

If he wasn’t so handsome you would’ve cut him already. If Steve allowed you.

Loud bangs hit your door outside. “Y/L/N you’re already 30 minutes late! That’s 5 laps extra for you!” You could hear the irritation lacing his voice.

Maybe if you ignore him long enough, the pest would go away.

“I know you’re in there!” He followed up after you ignored him.

Sighing in annoyance, you got up, with the blankets still wrapped around you, and weakly waddled your way to your door, not bothering to open up your curtains. Opening the door, A frowning Bucky was looking down on you. If you weren’t feeling so shitty, you would’ve snickered at his expression.

“Barnes why are you so obsessed with me?” your cracked voice barely managed to finish asking.

He was observing you from head to toe, noting how pale you are, and shivering under a huge comforter despite that your AC was off.

“You’re stupid.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’re not that sma-”

“Will you shut up and go back to bed? You look like you’re about to drop dead any second now.” He interrupted you, his face still stern with no emotion.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back and weakly made your way back over to bed, pausing to groan as you remembered you forgot to close the door.

“If you’re still there, could you please close the door.” it almost pained you to even be so polite to him but you blame it to being sick.

Finally managing to lie back down, you stared up the ceiling when you heard the door finally shut gently. Sighing, you were about to let sleep take over you when something caught the corner of your eye.

Bucky was by the closed door, taking his shirt off over his head. You let out a shriek. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”

“You’re sick.” he replied nonchalantly, while kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his sweatpants and socks.

“And taking off your clothes is supposed to make me feel better?!” you were trying to support yourself with your elbow, facing his way. “And I meant that you close the door before leaving.”

“I don’t want to die of heat while taking care of you.” he replied in a duh tone before entering your bathroom to fetch some warm water in a basin.

You were still trying to process what he was getting at when he finally went back out, now basin with steaming water in hand.

“You got a clean towelette I can use?” has asked as he placed the basin on the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, it’s by the third dra- what the hell are you doing again?” you caught yourself as he was opening your drawers. “Because if you’re trying to kill me, doing it while I’m defenseless is just beneath you.”

“Didn’t think your IQ could get any lower but you’re sick so I’ll let this pass.” He rolled his eyes before soaking the cloth on the water. “I’m nursing you. Now lay flat and still so the cloth won’t fall off that forehead of yours.” he instructed, again sounding so casual.

You followed his orders before realizing that this whole ordeal was still very weird. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

He went by your head and placed the cloth on your forehead, making you sigh at the warmth it brought your chilling form. “Steve will have my head if he finds out I knew you’re sick and let you die.”

You stared at him deadpan.

“And partners are supposed to be taking care of each other.” he muttered, making the side of your mouth twitch.

“If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.” he lightly threatened when he noticed your mouth twitch.

“Fair enough. And I should probably tell you that I’m prone to get mentally confused when I have fevers which is a normal symptom, but just letting you know in case I start saying something nice.” you chuckled.

He went over your mini fridge and opened a bottle of water to drink.

You look at him, noticing that he was starting to sweat a lot from the heat. His skin was glistening making you mentally kick yourself from staring.

“You got underwear?” you found yourself asking, making him choke on his drink.

“What?”

“I-I’m just saying i-if you’re that hot, you can just take off your sweatpants and I won’t mind.”

“You’re saying I’m hot?” he chuckled, having fun twisting your words, making you flush. “Hey, color’s back on your face. Maybe I should get you all flustered more.” he teased further.

“Shut up Barnes, I meant that the room’s too hot for you because the AC is off. You’re sweating like a pig.”

“Save the excuses, Y/N. You won’t mind if I’ll just be in my boxers?” he smirked at you as he took his socks off and started working on untying the strings of his sweats.

“Puh-lease, Barnes, it may come as a shock to you, but I’ve seen enough men in boxers. You’re not that…”

You trailed off what you were going to say when you noticed that this was a different kind of boxers. Why were they so tight?

You thought he meant boxer shorts, not boxer briefs. Dammit.

“I’m not that…?” He asked.

“I forgot. Fever brain.” You shrugged, diverting your eyes away from him. “Anyway, why are you so nice to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” He contradicts, placing his hands on his hips.

“Uh, yeah you do.” you paused to let out a cough. “You always make fun of me or provoke me in front of everyone else.”

“And how do I treat you when we’re alone, especially in missions?” he raised his brows at you, expecting that you’ll put two and two together.

“A lot nicer actually.” You muttered.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that the team keeps insisting I have a crush on you.” he scratched the back of his head.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would they even think that?” you chuckled.

“It’s Sam’s fault. He tricked me.”

“What?”

“He was being all hypothetical, saying what if I was only allowed to date someone from the team and who would I choose. And I uh… may have said I’d choose you. And everyone else heard.” He muttered the last part, embarrassed.

It was your turn to smirk at him. “And why me?”

“Stop that. You look like a smirking corpse.” he snapped at you defensively and cleared his throat. “It’s just that you were actually really nice to me when we met. Didn’t feel like you were masking apprehensiveness like everybody did when I first got here.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” you had the courage to tease him, seeing how flustered he got from telling the story.

“This is not how you treat your nurse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, a nurse in his underwear. Very ethical. And I’m not your supervisor, but I think brooding is not advisable.”

“And now as your nurse, I would advise you to quit talking and get some sleep.”  he playfully glared at you. “I’ll be by the chair to constantly check on your temperature and replace the cloth on your forehead.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Barnes. I’m starting to think the team’s right.”

“Ma’am flirting with patients and vice versa is frowned upon. Now sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

——–

While you were finally snoozing for over an hour, gentle knocks were heard on your door.

Standing up from his chair, Bucky quickly made his way over the door to prevent more knocks from disturbing your sleep, forgetting that he was still only in his boxer briefs.

Opening it slowly, he was met with three pairs of wide eyes belonging to Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Hey you guys, could you keep it down? Y/N is getting some rest.”

“Uhuh… I bet she needs it.” Sam replied slowly, still wide-eyed, noting how Bucky’s slightly sweaty.

“So… when did this happen?” It was Steve’s turn to speak up.

“Oh, just this morning. She was running late and I came here with the intention of punishing her for it but I ended up taking care of her.” He explained in a low voice, still oblivious to how their teammates were getting a totally different idea.

“Woah.” Nat muttered under her breath.

“Yeah, I guess her muscles are all sore because she was moving so weakly, and her voice is all hoarse now when she talks, and -”

“Look we’re happy for you, but TMI, Buck! TMI.” Steve cut him off and the three of them scrambled away from your room, with Sam muttering he didn’t need the unwelcomed visuals, and Nat screaming for Wanda.

Now left alone and confused by the doorway, he was trying to figure out why they reacted that way when it finally clicked.

“Fuck.” he whisper-yelled, knowing that the teasing was about to get worse.

——–

Final Part

Permanent tag list: @lizzarooni

Marvel Masterlist

[buckybarnesdiaries]

sick headcanon

© @buckypupbarnes

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

word count: 827 words.

warnings/tags: none. just bucky being overattentive and loving.

author notes: i'm having a cold these days and i'd love to have bucky rn just like that. life isn't fair. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

At the moment Bucky found you wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, his happy smile for being back at home suddenly disappeared and the concern got installed inside his chest.

He occupied the other side of the sofa, cupping your heated cheeks onto his palms to press his forehead against yours. That was how his mother used to check his temperature when he was sick. And you were on fire, figuratively.

Since then, he didn’t let you do anything more than rest. A n y t h i n g.

Bucky ensured you were comfy enough on the sofa, before placing a tender kiss on your lips. “I’ll be back in a bit. Call me if you feel worse".

He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he should go to buy some things to spoil you properly. One day, New York’s cold weather was going to kill you.

Your boyfriend not only bought some meds to treat your stuffy nose and sore throat, but he also bought the ingredients necessary to prepare a hot soup for dinner, with chicken, vegetables, and rice. A classic that Winnifred prepared for her children, mostly, at Christmas. A recipe he hadn’t forgotten. Not even after all those years.

Bucky came back as soon as the people in the supermarket let him, after some desperate minutes watching an old lady counting penny by penny to pay her groceries.

He left the bags in the kitchen, taking the nasal inhaler along with a painkiller and a glass of water.

You couldn’t help but pout at him. James was treating you with so much care that you thought you could break in one thousand pieces at any moment.

“Take the med and use it. ‘M going to run a bath, okay?” You nodded receiving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Bucky carried you from the sofa to the bathroom in his arms, helping you later to undress yourself and get in the tub. The warm water felt like resurrecting when it covered your anatomy to your shoulders. He urged you to rest your head against the edge, placing slowly a wet cloth on your forehead.

It was funny because Bucky looked like he was trying to deactivate a bomb.

“Gimme five minutes”. He whispered into your ear with the sweetest tone of voice he had ever used with you.

Were you… going to die?

Letting you in a quiet calm inside the bathroom, he walked out to the kitchen. It took him only five minutes to chop the vegetables and to shred the chicken, adding it to the water boiling with the rice. Over medium heat, he forgot about the soup for the next twenty minutes it needed to be cooked.

He couldn’t help but stare at you a couple of seconds from the door of the bathroom, feeling a little guilty because of your flu. He was your personal stove on the cold nights but the last mission took him a minute more than expected.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to strip himself, caressing tenderly your shoulder to make you sit up and give him some space behind you.

Adjusting himself to you, he laid his thumbs on the back of your neck. You didn’t know where he learned to give massages, but he was an expert. And the contrast of his flesh hand and the vibranium’s one was indescribably pleasant.

A purr escaped your lips unconsciously, causing Bucky to chuckle while running his palms down by your back, adding some more pressure.

This man was a God’s gift.

When you felt somewhat better, he stepped out of the bath before you to find you some comfy clothes to wear. His clothes, impregnated in his scent. And after brushing and drying your hair, Bucky carried you back to the sofa and wrapped you in a cozy blanket.

Sometimes you couldn’t help but think about how someone could be afraid of him, despite what those monsters forced him to do. He was nothing but such a kind and loyal man, a little quiet and who used to push you out of your nerves with that staring thing of his.

But a good man at the end of the day.

Your boyfriend brought two big bowls of soup that smelled delicious, putting them on the coffee table to look for an old movie on TV to watch, while having that magnificent dinner.

“My mother used to say it can raise the dead”.

“What is it you’re hinting at, uh?” You replied playfully.

Your good mood made Bucky curve his mouth into a smile, staring at his blue eyes sparkling again. He knew all of that would work sooner or later.

“Thank you”. You murmured wrinkling your nose, as he leaned to kiss your forehead a little cooler. Which was a good sign that the fever was decreasing.

“Would do anything for you, babydoll, y’know it... right?”

“I do, Buck. I’d do it too”. You sighed in love, with heart-eyes, opening your arms and stretching the blanket to hug him under it.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

TAG LIST:

@mystic-232 @homesicam @theresnoplatypus @i-love-scott-mccall @slutfornat @xx-marvelfanatic-xx @goldielocks2004 @whatrambles @the-mystery-spot @multiyfandomgirl40 @purrrrfect @spidergirla5 @wanniiieeee @fanofalltheficsx @spideysimpossiblegirl @nocturnalherb16 @jointhehunt67 @the-witty-pen-name @valenquei @golden-hoax @hunter-of-baker-street @missusstark @vhscherry @warm-sensations @edenxecho @addictedtofictionalcharacters @sarahsmcu @tinylumpiaa @amelia-song-pond @heartislubbingdubbing @stolenxkissess @clean-and-claire @winchestersgirl222 @virgoroses @marvel-ousnesss @lewd-alien @kait-is-always-late @sesamepancakes

@mayans-sauce @peoniarose @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @starrynite7114 @sheeshgivemeabreak @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell

[julek]

for @asweetprologue and myself <3 | read on ao3

“Eurgh,” Jaskier says as he gracelessly flops down onto his bedroll. He wipes his nose. “This is impossible.”

It’s cold season for mere mortals and humble bards, it seems. Jaskier wipes his nose again, coughing into his elbow. Being out in the wilderness doesn’t help, either — the nights are mild but there’s a soft breeze that won’t let up, making Jaskier wake up with a sore, dry throat.

“I wonder…” he mumbles to himself, pushing forward with effort to kneel onto the bedroll. He lets his arms drop, release the tension they’d been holding all day just to keep him standing upright. He brings his fingertips to his thighs and closes his eyes. “Okay, big breath…”

He inhales slowly, pushing down the sudden urge to cough with a frown on his face. He bites his lip as he tries to hold the air in for a moment, counting to five in his head, then breathing out with a heavy exhale that’s immediately followed by a coughing fit.

When he’s regained composure, he tries again. Keeping his back straight as an arrow — or what he hopes resembles it at the moment — he breathes in again, but his left nostril is blocked, the right one whistling as the air comes in. As good as I’m going to get, he thinks, and holds his breath. His ears pop.

“Gods!” He groans, his head in his hands. He sniffs miserably. “What do you want from me? What sins am I paying for?”

“I could name a few,” he hears Geralt’s voice say from the foliage. He walks out of the trees with a smirk, holding a pheasant by the neck. “What are you doing?”

Jaskier looks up at him, droopy-eyed and forlorn. “I tried to meditate. You know, like you do. Deep breaths and all— it didn’t work.”

“Hmm.” Geralt puts the pheasant aside for a moment, moving into Jaskier’s space to kneel beside him. He brings his lips to Jaskier’s forehead, the touch grounding, and says, “You don’t have a fever.”

Jaskier sighs. “But I feel like shit.”

“Mm,” Geralt says emphatically, and presses a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek before getting up. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier watches him retrieve his knife from his bag. “Can’t you just,” he whines, his fingers making a whoosh motion, “Axii me back into health, or something?”

Geralt snorts, his blade flat against the feathers as he removes the wings. Jaskier almost feels bad for the poor thing, but the rumble in his stomach holds its ground. “That’s not how it works.”

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Jaskier flops onto his back, looking at the twinkling stars. “Just so you know, if I had the ability to do…” He frowns. “...magic thingies, I’d use them to nurse my beloved back into health. Just saying.”

“Good to know.”

Jaskier clicks his tongue. “Since you won’t be displaying your undying love for me via some sort of, of… miracle potion, dear, wake me when dinner’s ready.”

The way Geralt stays silent and doesn’t strangle him is a small display of his undying love of its own. Curled up on his bedroll, Jaskier dozes to the sound of Geralt’s knife and the crackling of the fire.

When he wakes, it’s to Geralt’s foot poking him in the side. “Jask.”

“Mmmpf?” He manages before coughing back to life. “Ugh.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Geralt says, and waits for Jaskier to stop wheezing and attempting to spit his lung out to pass him a slightly-burnt leg.

“Thanks,” Jaskier croaks, and digs in.

They eat in comfortable silence, the distant sound of a stream trickling down and cicadas singing their evening song into the sky, the simmering of water on a pot over the fire. Putting his waterskin aside, Jaskier stretches, pleased.

“Well,” he says. “That was good. Now, I think some sleep is in order.”

Geralt smiles at him like he’s withholding a secret. It’s a dangerous smile for him to wear. “Oh, what is it?” Jaskier says.

“What do you mean?” Geralt asks, all innocent and wide-eyed.

“You’ve got that conspiratorial look about you. What is it?”

Geralt says nothing, instead fetches his bedroll and rolls it out next to Jaskier’s. Before Jaskier can lay down as he’s been waiting to and before he can drag the Witcher down with him and press into his warmth, Geralt puts up his hand.

“We can’t share,” he says.

Jaskier splutters. “And why not?” He says indignantly.

Geralt gestures vaguely at his face.

Jaskier sniffs, as if to prove his point. “I cannot believe,” he says, wiping his nose, “that Geralt of Rivia, slayer of beasts and hero of humanity, won’t share his bed with me because of a runny nose!”

Geralt makes a face. “You’ll cover me in goo.”

“You’ve been covered in much worse! You can’t even get sick, you—” His voice is comically nasal as he whispers, heartbroken, “I thought you loved me.”

Geralt sits closer. “And I do,” he says. “Which is why I’m displaying my— what was it?”

“Undying love for me,” Jaskier grumbles.

“Yes, that— by offering you the oldest cold-banishing ritual there is.”

Jaskier perks up. “You are? Why didn’t you lead with that? What is it?” He scrambles to get up, starts undoing his chemise. ”Do I have to be naked? Howl at the moon? D’you need some blood? I read that—”

“None of that, Jask,” Geralt says, touching his fingers to Jaskier’s arm, settling him. “Just— wait.”

Jaskier does, curiously watching Geralt wander around their camp. He retrieves a small linen bag from his pack, upending its contents into the pot and taking it out of the fire, placing it on the ground next to it. Then, he digs up an old shirt of his, black and faded, from his bag, and hands it to Jaskier with a warm smile.

“Come here,” he says softly, motioning for Jaskier to come kneel by the fire. He does, the dirt digging in his knees, and looks up at Geralt expectantly.

Geralt unfolds his shirt with care, and wraps it around the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Drape it over your head,” he instructs gently. “With your hands, like this. Like— like a tent.”

It makes Jaskier laugh, but he does it anyway. “Okay,” he says. “I feel like a child. What next?”

He can’t see Geralt with the dark cloth covering his head, but he hears him snort. “Now, put your face over the pot— here, I’ll help you.” Geralt places a hand on his back and helps him lean over the steaming pot, arranges his shirt so that it covers the pot as well, leaving Jaskier inside a warm, humid cocoon. “Now, breathe in.”

Jaskier takes a deep breath, the sweet scent of chamomile filling his senses. His face feels warm already, the steam curling his hair at the edges. Geralt’s hand is still on his back, soothing. “The steam will help clear your airway,” he says. “Just breathe in and out until the water starts to cool down.”

Jaskier nods, but realizes Geralt can’t see him. “Okay,” he says, breathing in again. It makes him sweat, the warm steam on his face, but with every breath he takes, he can feel it work its magic. There isn’t any, he knows — it’s no different from the potions Geralt brews, the salve he uses on his wounds — but there’s something mesmerizing about watching the cut-up stems and petals dancing on the water, unintelligible shapes revealing themselves at the bottom of Geralt’s beaten-up pot.

The water cools down after a while. When Jaskier emerges from his makeshift tent, Geralt’s watching him with a tender look in his eyes, a smile curling on his lips despite himself. “How do you feel?”

Jaskier sniffs, but this time, he takes in a clean breath. “Better,” he says, handing Geralt his shirt back. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” says Geralt, and this time, when he lays on his bedroll, he beckons Jaskier close. “Sleep?”

Jaskier smiles. The chamomile made him sleepy, and he feels warm as he lays next to Geralt, entwining their legs and brushing his nose against the cold spot where his jaw meets his neck.

“Thank you for saving me,” he murmurs against Geralt’s skin.

Geralt huffs a laugh, tightening his arms around the bard. “‘S hardly a cure.”

Jaskier looks at him. Geralt’s profile is illuminated by the dying firelight, the flames casting shadows on his face. Still, his golden gaze gleams as their eyes meet.

“How’d you come up with it?” Jaskier asks quietly. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

Geralt doesn’t answer for a while, his fingers tracing lines over Jaskier’s chemise. Jaskier brushes a wayward strand of white hair from Geralt’s face. He smiles.

“My mother used to do it for me.”

Jaskier hums at the quiet admission, listening to the slow beating of Geralt’s heart. He smiles faintly, and Jaskier knows he’s not really there right now.

“There wasn’t money for healers, back then.” Geralt swallows. “But there was always chamomile.”

Jaskier squeezes his hand.

“I never liked it, in truth,” Geralt admits, quietly. “The steam was always too hot on my face. But she would… she’d sit next to me. Hold the cloth over my face.”

Jaskier thinks of Geralt’s hand at his back.

“We’d do it together.”

Breathing out, like he can finally feel the air filling his lungs, Geralt looks into Jaskier’s eyes. They’re softer, somehow, honey-gold around a pool of black. Jaskier brushes his fingers against Geralt’s cheek, leans in for a tender kiss to his jaw, missing his lips.

Geralt laughs, low and beautiful. “I can’t get sick now, you know.”

Jaskier smiles. “I know.”

[anaiswriterr]

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW. Todays chapter does include gore, death, killing, hunting, sickness, etc.

<masterlist>

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter five: the blood a trickster spills -

•

•

•

•

You grab onto a tree branch, grunting as you pull yourself up. It has been an hour since you've been aimlessly walking through the enchanted forest, your feet already burn in exhaustion. You managed a to find a stream, the land was smooth - perfect for a fire in the morning but right now your main priority:

Is to somehow climb this tree without breaking a leg.

You grumble incoherent words to yourself, enraged by the stubborn bark your hand could not grasp. You opted for another tree branch, pulling yourself up to a reasonably thicker branch - which you deemed was thick enough to wait the night out. Though sleep was definitely out of the question for you, a fall from this height was enough to put you out of commission and paint you dead.

You wrap your arms carefully around the trees trunk taking deep breathes in attempt to sooth your beating heart, "don't look down.. don't look down." you chant, the words stitching together like a prayer. But your eyes glance down - for only one second. One second and suddenly your breath hitches and fear burrows into your stomach. One slip and it was over. Your hands grasp hard onto the trees bark, imprinting your hand with small indents of patterns.

Your eyes grow heavy with sleep, exhausted from climbing. You mentally curse yourself for not taking advantage of the time you had in the carriage ride.

From beneath you, bushes rustle and heavy footsteps emerge.

Yet, you don't dare look down to peep what roams the dark night; growling and far away howls creep up your skin as you shiver. You were in a long night - a cold grueling night.

***

You shiver against the bark, as rain pours down from above soaking your boots and clothing. The rain clouds cover up the moon - as if the night couldn't get worse - you feel small rain drops drizzle down from the skyline. Tapping your nose and cheeks, falling hard onto the ground after a few seconds. You roll your eyes in annoyance, tightening you grip against the tree bark as the rain soaks you from head to toe. In this case you were going to get sick if you didn't dry up soon - and sickness in the kingdom was a true tragedy. Your grip is slippery, chunks of bark peels off the tree and onto the ground below. Startling the animals that roamed below - one snarls as it's hit on the head with one piece. Tightening your legs and arms you realize if you fall now, in this darkness, at this moment..

You would never see another night again.

Determined to survive you travel even further up top into the tree line, it wasn't the smartest idea, staying put in the position you were in and waiting the rain out seemed like a logical solution.

But you needed to get to the tree line.

The sky could tell exactly what time it was, where the rain was coming from, and when it would end. It was better visually, other than waiting for you to fall.

But that also was a thought, what if your foot slipped when you were trying to get further on top, surely by that height you wouldn't have to worry about getting eaten alive by creatures of the night - you'd simply die just by hitting the ground. In all actuality, you didn't wanna think about it, but each time your damned eyes just peered down you saw death. This entire forest reeked and felt like death, or was it a curse, a game? A game to see which Queen can be the most traumatized?

If so, you were pretty sure by the end of this you'd have to see the royal therapist. If there even was one in this kingdom you served.

Grunting you pull yourself up, cheering yourself on internally. You're just nearly there, one more step and the sky line would be clear!

Rain droplets splatter your face, gliding across your cheeks and drenching your hair. Just a few more branches, a few more pulls. The dark clouds peer through leaves above, and you can already see the rain clouds gathered together. You sigh in relief, the rain would stop soon, you estimated the rain would most likely stop in approximately five minutes. And the moon would shine down again. the clouds were just passing by.

You breath in the fresh air, ignoring the pelting rain.

You just simply needed to breath, tears run down your face as you stare off into the Kingdoms silhouette - staring angrily at the sky refusing to place your fate in another persons hands. Clutching onto your dagger your carve into the tree branch.

"I will not accept the fate you place me under, you scoundrel pieces of shit!" You say quietly under your breath, a promise you will get to retell to your future children when the time came.

***

Birds chirp all around you, it's officially the first day.

The beating sun scorned your skin, but the cough in your throat is enough to pull your attention away from the scorching heat. You are developing a cold.

Your throat tickles and your nose feels stopped up, your hand shoots up to cover the suns beating  rays off your face. It was early, if you had to estimate most likely seven in the morning. The sun came down behind the kingdom at exactly seven thirty, (you made sure to observe), which only meant you had had twelve hours and thirty minutes to find food, make a fire, track down a goblin, and lastly if you were lucky enough to stumble upon safe herbs to create a tea that would soothe the pending cold.

If an infection didn't kill you, it'd be a cold that would have a final say, but the cold was the least of your worries.

You had a goblin to track down, and those tricksters could kill you faster than any fever.

You slowly move down the tree, checking your surrounds.

You found yourself a loose rabbit wandering off into its borough, noting your next meal for the day was only a few feet away. Your boots crunch onto the dried leaves and wet dirt, you search for dried logs that survived the rain fall, along with rocks that you could create a pit with. You set up directly in the sun in hopes to dry out a few damp logs. In the meantime you went to the rabbits borough - it had two entrances and from what you learned from Kirishima it would attempt to escape from the back. You stealthily placed a large heavy rock at the back entrance blocking its way.

Intricately you back away, you weren't so immune to dead animals. Your father went on annual hunting trips all the time, but, this would be the first time you are hunting out of survival.

The entirety of the "game" was survival.

You check up on your logs, noticing they are now dry from the suns heat. You grab your sticks rubbing your hands up and down to create a spark - fire blazes in front of you. Normally you'd say it was to hot to start a fire, but at night you rather face the cold than a grueling hungry Ogre. Of all things you had to deal with in life at this moment, a bitch ass Ogre was not one of the problems you had the proper strength and patience to deal with.

You grab an end of a stick, lighting the other half on fire. Waving it as a torch, your meal for the day would be served.

You rush over to the borough, lightly throwing the stick into the hole before closing it off with the boulder. Running over to the other end you hold your dagger.

You felt bad for the poor thing.

But a girls got to eat.

***

You have no idea where to start.

When one thinks of a goblin one would refer to the story books that claimed they lived under bridges - shunned away from society maybe even deep into forests. But those were simply just stories, if you had to think like a goblin you'd live far away from the kingdom in fear of being killed.

Nobody prepared you for the hunt, only survival.

You decide you should move, being stuck in the same place wouldn't get you very far. The herbs you were in search for in the meantime for your throat weren't found so you inevitability gave up on the luxury of a warm leaf of tea. You cough into your arm, sniffling your nose from running. The heat rose your temperature to the point you had to stop your travels to lie down, mentally cursing yourself for wasting time.

Heaving, you look up towards the sky, noticing the sun has moved positions. Only a few hours away of setting and you have yet found a single clue where you could find a goblin. You crouch down beside a creak, cupping your hands and drinking away the water from your palms. Splashing your face with it as well to cool the rising fever you felt approaching. You only had three days and if you were gonna make it back to start on time by the third day the heart must be in your possession. Your feet ache, and your calves muscles cramp. The lower part of your back is sore and the sun is burning the sides of your feet - you were in complete misery.

Black dots appear in your line of sight, you stumble onto your feet holding back the urge to vomit what little food you had left in your system.

Your hand quietly slaps over your mouth, clamping it shut.

"Well well well... what do we have here?"

Before you can even answer your sight goes dark, and you feel your head hit the ground. It falls silent.

***

Humming.

The sound of a cackling fire.

And the warm rich scent smell of hazelnut soup.

You slowly open your eyes, "What the-" your heart rate rises in fear, where were you? Who's here? Why are you here, how are you here? You search for the dagger but are left bewildered when the sharp blade is nowhere to be found. You shuffle backwards, your hands running over the wooden floorboards - splinters penetrate your skin. But you could careless, you remember passing out from the heat - or was it from a fever? You didn't know, footsteps approach you.

"Oh well it seems like you're awake!" A females voice cheers, you scan her body, taking in her frame. She was tall, and very beautiful, her striking long brown hair and dark green eyes, a dark red gown adorned her body. Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you bark at the woman, "Who are you-"

"Now, that isn't a way to speak to a woman who saved your life your Majesty."

"How do you know who I am-"

The woman chuckles, "Well I hear everything! The forest, it speaks to me. And not to mention the witches that live here love to gossip!" You stare at her, blinking your tired eyes. It still didn't make much sense, yes technically you ruled this land as well but it's so far away. You can feel your pounding headache even worsen, "So you're a witch?" You ask, pulling your feet in.

"Ha! You think I'm one of those people! How rude. See I'm just a modern lady sitting in a cottage, I don't suppose you would know that kind of lifestyle." The woman shrugs, sipping her cup of tea.

You nod, "I'm afraid.. I don't actually." All your life you were surrounded by jewels and gold's, fed the most expensive meats and the most tasty fruits. Living a fast paced life of "don't say that." "don't touch that." "sit like this." and "who told you to speak." Speaking to Mina about eventually running away from marriage, even planning to take her too.

"Well it seems to me you are part taking in those heinous games the Dragons throw women into. What a shame, you are beautiful too."

You arch a brow in curiosity at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this isn't going to end well for you. I mean, look at you! You look like you couldn't hurt and fly, I wonder what King Bakugou must be up to? You wouldn't stand a chance against a goblin!" The woman laughs manically placing her cup of tea onto the table, she steps towards you. "I managed to survive one night alone-"

"Oh please, If I didn't take you in the wolves would've had a feast. You should be thanking me." You roll your eyes in annoyance, "Now dear," she grins, "you look parched. How about some tea."

Tea.

Your body is practically begging for a warm remedy to sooth your raw sore throat, oh.. you realized that you're actually growing sick. The headache on the sides of your temples is beating - pounding against your brain. Your vision is cloudy. How could you not of realized. You were so distracted by where you were you barley remember you couldn't find the herbs you searched for.

The lady wags an empty cup in your face.

"Come on. Your cheeks are burning red, and whether that's just a sun burn or fever I'm sure you need a sip. You're burning up a storm."

A part of you wonders her name, but was it truly important? Could she possibly show you were you could find a goblin? You look over your shoulder out of the window realizing the sun was just barley going down.

"H-How long was I out?" You shakily ask, pulling your hands into your chest.

The woman arches a brow, "You know for a Queen you surely do stutter a lot. You've been out since noon."

Lord if you didn't have strength to be patient you probably would've thrown a wooden slab at her by now, you breath in heavily through your stopped up nose; coughing in despair. Blowing out a few pieces of hair from your face. "Well, then do you want the tea or no - your royal highness?" She asks in a taunting matter.

"No. I'm fine." You huff.

"More for me then-"

"What's your name?" You interrupt, "Id love to know the name of the woman who saved me after all." You grin tilting your head to the side. The lady clears her throat, "Marigold. My name is Marigold." You nod, finally knowing her name. "Well Marigold, do you know where I can find a goblin?"

The word seems to stop Marigold in her tracks. Her face grows pale for a second before returning back to her natural nonchalant expression. Blowing a raspberry she proceeds to laugh, "Well honey, that's a days trip. They live deep into the forest. You wouldn't make it there in time."

Hmm, you nod suspiciously. Recalling the last conversation you had with Kirishima.

"What do goblins look like? I've only ever read about them." You asked, moving beside him following him into the horse stall. He combs out the mane of his horse, "Well that's a tricky question my Queen. They are real tricky and can spew lies just to get you where they want... they promise you things. You have to be real smart to not fall for it - I've encountered one in my youth. It didn't look anything like those storybooks."

Your eyes wander her body; she looked normal. But to trust her would be a stretch, one that could kill you. Her voice sound normal. You watch her closely, "Where's my stuff?" You ask. Marigold arches a brow and shrugs her shoulders; "What stuff?"

You bark, "My dagger! My holster for it! Where is it?"

"Oh those things.. why do you need them?"

"I need to leave-"

"It's dark out, you wouldn't want yourself to increase your fever now would you. I promise this tea will sooth all your pains away. Even the ones deep in your heart."

You arch a brow, narrowing your gaze. Even the ones deep in your heart. Your brush her off as a bluff, "You don't know what you're talking about." You push yourself up from the floor, stumbling from the sudden wave of nausea. Sweat beats run down your forehead as you attempt to stand up straight. Marigold clicks her tongue, her long fingers run through her long brown locks. "No. No. It seems that... I do know what I'm talking about. A Queen who's too good for her new kingdom, thrown, stuck and forced into a loveless marriage; suddenly thrown into the enchanted forest to find a heart that she will be forced to eat? Poor unfortunate girl, you were better off dead."

Her words cut deeply, anyone could figure that out though. She didn't know you, how could she possibly think she had your life figured out. You were a Princess made into a Queen; it wasn't that hard to understand. To create peace between your kingdoms you had to marry Bakugou.

"Darling... you are unhappy." She takes small sips of her tea, "I can help you escape.. you don't love him you don't even know him. Come with me, and I can help nourish you back to health. You won't even have to return, I'm quite lonely myself. Now, have some tea. Your cheeks are practically scarlet." Marigolds grin is sinister, she taps her nails slowly against the table; that's when you realize:

Her fingers and nails are sharp, green, and coated with old blood.

Her green eye sharpen with each passing second - her pupils are almost snake like. You gulp down the fear that rose in you, ignoring the raging pound against your chest. What do you do? You can tell she's growing impatient, if you run out now with no weapon you could kiss your life away. If you stayed... no. You needed a knife, your dagger, anything even a wooden stake would do fine. "I don't bite, sit down." Marigold says menacingly, your feet  scuff the floor as you make your way to her. This is the time where you're supposed be strong, you guess.

Marigold lifts up her tea kettle, you notice her teeth for the first time.. how sharp they were.. separated and long.. how could she disguise herself as someone so beautiful?

"Remember.. they are tricksters. They are going to tell you things you wanna hear, they can be anyone and anything." Kirishima's words rang through your head, "Well wouldn't that make them a shape shifter? I've heard those are a thing too, how can I be certain?" You pout, how would you know. The creatures of the Enchanted Forest were so complex. He crosses his arm, "You'll know when they begin to turn.. back into the creature they were originally. Don't catch yourself entertaining, they'll slice your throat in a second."

Your breathing grows heavy, she's a goblin. She's what you've been looking for, her name wasn't Marigold - Marigold was a the woman who the face, the body belonged too. This thing... is morphing. You choose your words carefully, slowly reaching out for an empty tea cup and quietly asking her to fill it. If you could just lead her into the kitchen somehow you could possibly get a knife, "Well now that's the spirit my Queen. I promise this tea with sooth everything away, melting all the overwhelming emotions you may be feeling." The woman mutters before pulling back a hot tea kettle.

Hot.

Tea.

Kettle.

Boiling water is in there. Your heart prancing in joy, you have a chance. You had an opening, quickly, you stop her with your hand. "Actually, may I poor it? I-I sometimes like mines a little more full than usual." You smile nervously, "Oh why of course, here. Have as much as you'd like - it came right off the cauldron."

You nod, taking the handle away from her and carefully pouring the boiling tea into your cup. You make note of her wandering eyes, you've got to make this quick. You finish pouring, opening the kettle lid you ask aloud, "What kind of tea is this? It smells wonderful." You needed a distraction, a reason to open the lid.

"Lavender green tea with a speck of rose water-"

Your throw the boiling water over her head, her screams erupt in the as dining room; as her skin bubbles up. You throw the kettle at her head and knock back your chair, running towards the kitchen. "You wretched! Horrid- I'll slice your throat!" The Goblin screeches, you search the drawers and cabinets for something, anything! But to no avail you didn't find a single thing. Now you were completely done for.

Heavy footsteps and angered huffs make their way towards the kitchen - it's now or never. Throwing pots and pans you make sure to strike the goblin in the face, "After I saved your life! This is the thanks I get?" You hear, bending down to hide underneath the counter your eyes lock with a shining blade.

Your dagger!

Hidden behind the cauldron, you just needed a way to get back there. You needed a way to grab it, the goblins footsteps grow heavy. You silence your breathing with your palms, "I could've helped you, I could've been your escape. You greedy rat!" You hear tables being flipped over, cabinets being thrown open violently, "Wait till I get my hands on you.. I'll cut you open and gut you like a fish."

You attempt to keep calm, either way you were a goner if you hadn't left in that moment. When you hear the goblins footsteps move away in distance you shuffle onto your feet and zoom towards the cauldron. The crackling fire and boil contents bring you an idea. You hurry for the dagger, flipping it between your hands.

"There you are.." you hear a snarl from across the room, readying your blade to attack, you throw your hands up, "Thank you for the hospitality, but it looks like you have something I need." You point towards the goblins chest, the heart. A viable beating heart, only feet away. In mere seconds the goblin launches at you, reaching out to tackle you. You swiftly move out of the way throwing yourself to the ground, your palms throb in pain from the splinters lodged deep into your flesh - but that's the least of your worries. You scurry to your feet and push over the boiling cauldron over the goblin and stab your dagger deep into its head. Blood splatters your face in small droplets, staining your face and clothes.

You've never killed a "person" before.

Never did you think you could actually do it, but the small sigh of relief escaping your throat tells you that you are finally safe.

You proved what you had to prove. And for the night you had sanctuary.

Your mind races in adrenaline, you're alive.

Yet you had to kill in the process, does that make you one of them? No, you did what you had to do. It was a matter of kill or be killed. You pull your dagger away, out of its head, you didn't kill an innocent women. You killed a beast. Small gurgles and a moan fall from its mouth, the sound of death. You wipe away the blood on your forehead with your forearm and roll the dead corpse to the side.

The heart...

A token for the kingdom.

***

Blood stains your chest; dried up to the color brown as you stumble through the forest. Your eye lids feel heavy with every step you take yet you fight off the urge to fall to your knees and succumb to the dark black dots in your vision. It's tempting, yet you are so close to the finish.. you walked the full second day. With no breaks and no source of water on the way, your fever had returned full force as the sun blazed down your body.

You cough into your arm as your second hand clutches onto the heart you were meant to return. Fresh blood coats your hands from the animals you had to fight off for the heart, the trip back was just as worse, your eye lids flutter, opening and closing with each step you nearly fall to the floor.

You look like a dead girl walking.

Your feet shuffle and kick at the ground below.

Your back is sore and your throat feels dry from the cold of the night - the forest was ruthless. You can hear the tribal drums from afar, the sound edging closer and closer, increasing its volume with each step. You stumble to the ground, exhausted, thirsty, and sick. You consider staying down, to tired to even pull yourself up. You hear voices, they sound so close.

"I told you already, she'll be here."

Bakugou?

The king, your husband.

"Give her some more time."

It must be near afternoon then, you push yourself up when you heard Kirishima's voice agree with your husband. Providing you some more time to make it to the finish line - you assume the politicians want to speed up the process. You swore they must have something against you.

Your body feels sticky from the old, dried blood on your chest. Fingers still freshly coated in blood and dirt you push yourself off from a nearby tree - edging closer to the entrance of the Enchanted Forest. The setting suns sunlight peers through the small branches and leaves of the trees above, kissing your exposed shoulders, reddened from the sunburns that littered your skin. You wipe the sweat off your forehead; smearing a combination of dried and fresh blood all over your face. But you don't care, you just had a few more step till sanctuary.

The entrance is clear, open to the trail you followed.

You can see Kirishima from a distance, his rough shoulders tense in worry. Beside him, Bakugou stands with his arms crossed over his shoulders. An expression you couldn't make out contours his face.

You know you've finally made it out when a wave of heat smacks your face even harder - the setting sun beating on your body you stumble over to the King.

A smirk on your face as you hold up the heart, his eyes widen in surprise, taken aback you watch his lips move. But no sound comes out, it's all muffled around you. Black spots collect in your vision, "I-I did it.." you mumble, falling into his chest his hand reaches out to touch your forehead.

You lie passed out in his arms as he calls out to his guards, Kirishima collects the heart from your hand just before it could fall. "What do we do?" The dragon frantically says, Bakugou looks out for the Counsel men, his eyes fall onto the President. Glaring he announces, "We're taking her back to the Palace now!"

"You will do no such thing, your Majesty! She will be brought to the plaza hall, your people are waiting! Handmaidens, guards, take Queen Y/N, preserve the heart and bathe it in pigs blood. We are continuing the ceremony."

Your fever rose with each passing minute, and the exhaustion you'd expedited already was enough to kill. Bakugou breathes in heavily knowing he had no say in the ceremony. There was no way he could just simply override the parliament. Arms wrap around your body as the guards and handmaidens assist in take you.

They rip you away from Bakugou's arms.

"We'll take care of her after the ceremony-"

Kirishima interrupts the Counsel man, bearing his sharp teeth he growls, "I believe you will. I don't necessarily like the taste of humans." He threatens as they user you off. Bakugou stares in annoyance at the carriage that rushed you off to the plaza. Nightfall was close, and he could already feel the rumbling of ceremonial drums beneath his feet. A hand comes to pat his shoulder, the Counsels president, Hagoku Tekona, smiles. "You should probably head back to the plaza.. she might wanna see you as soon as we wake her up."

"You're just gonna wake her up?"

"We'll just drench her in pigs blood to wake her, she'll anyways have to. The tradition calls for the Queen to bathe in pigs blood as she intakes the heart to be fully part of the dragon clan-"

Bakugou, walks away, reaching out for Kirishima he taps his back.

"Make sure... they don't throw her around too much."

Nodding in agreement Kirishima fetches their horses, "I'll take care of her. Make sure she's conscious." The two jump onto their horses settling into the saddle, Bakugou mutters to himself, incoherent words bungled all in one sentence, he pulls back on his horse. Kirishima arches a brow in worry, eyeing his friend he doesn't know what to say neither what to do, the dragon mutters, "You seem surprised. Did you think she wasn't going to make it?"

Nodding Bakugou turns to face Kirishima, with notable surprise written on his face. "I thought I was going to have to find another wife..."

Chuckling Kirishima shakes his head before taking off with his horse, "Depending on how well tonight's ceremony goes.. it appears Bakugou that you have a wife beside your side."

"It appears.. so."

AUTHORS NOTES: Yooooooo! How are you guys, sorry for taking to long. This chapter was longer than the others so I’m happy with where this is going. I have been going through a few things, remember guys I’m just a teenager so it can be hard to fit things in on time. I just got a job, just waiting for the orientation, I have school work and I’m glad I have all A’s! Anyways I hope you liked it!!

TAGLIST: @loxbbg​ @urmomsshousee​ @samkysnks​ @mikithekiki​ @aegeanblues​ @mykuronekome​ @lowkey-a-faerie-in-disguise​ @orange-aesthetic-yay @katsukibabe​ @bnhaficswriter​ @vvanills @katiekat300​ @utterlyconfused-tm​ @learningasigo​ @bigkoalafications​ @bnhaficswriter​ @sugarandsoft​ @aegeanblues​ @tspice283​ @simpforeveryone​ @crackhead1-800​ @poetryandhoetry01​ @bakasbitch18 @riceballsandanime​ @franko-pop​ @lostmarimoismyhubby​ @junniev8​ @thirsthourdemon​ @cowward​ @the2ndl​ @reaperintheroses​ @bakugousmrs​ @maemi324​ @beautifulparisiangirl​ @commandertorinshepard​ @velosrantipole​ @kirishimaisthatbitch​ @soft-levi-girl-blog​ @chims-kookies​ @smtmusic​ @jokerloverparis​ @polpoes-blog​ @sunaswife​ @lordexplosion-murder20​ @lostmarimoismyhubby​ @awkward-bard​ @jazzylove​ @katsukibabe​ @whalerus​ @misssugarless​ @hikaru-mikazuki​ @greenchild​ @bubbzibubbles​ @the-fluffy-emo​ @anon-weeb-030 @cottonccandyxx​ @meri-soni-meri-tamanna​ @avocados-and-lemons​ @lucyheartfilias-wife​ @alisonhappy @wthrae​ @karitamaki @mydads2ndmistress​ @asemerose​ @chwlogy​ @foreverdebbie​ @bakugosbabie @bakuinred​ @thatkoicat @kkitakenma​  @bnhafan101 @meliapis​ @thecaoswitch @liviwivi1  @angie-1306​ @theinfamoushotdog @minibobabottle​ @honeylemondragonemperor​ @iloveitblackbnha @yokesmam​ @annepamgkrth​

[shozaii]

could I request some dabi, aizawa and hawks taking care of their s/o who is maybe sick or has had a rough day? 💕

(a/n): hello hello anon! ahh thank you so much for sending this in! always wanted to write for dabi too <3 enjoy, love! ❤❤

masterlist.

------------------------

rough day.

pairings: dabi x reader, aizawa x reader, hawks x reader.

warnings: none!

i’d like to think that dabi does care, and would even go as far as he could to show you that he does. maybe when you two first started dating, he would tend to be a little reserved, quiet.

well, of course he has the love. of course he has the affection. then again, of course he has to take time to ease himself with you - to give his all for his s/o.

a scenario; it was a long, long day of constant stress and pressure. it wasn’t like your body wasn’t used to this. you knew what you signed up for - might as well endure it, put your heart and soul into it when you can. after all, rest would always come later on.

or so you thought. it went even longer, the more you started thinking of your bed. more jobs, more deadlines within a day. more ruckus. geez, what was with the world today?

the world took most of your precious time, because by the time you stepped your foot into home, it was nighttime.

more like, the next morning.

you groaned, looking at the time. 

“babe...? your boyfriend called out in what seemed like a groggy voice. “damn, look at you. rough day?”

your figure sloppily fell into dabi’s chest, inhaling his enthralling scent. he let out a little ‘oof’ before saying, “you did, huh. come on, stinky. bath time.”

your arms have never felt this tired after so long, because when it reached out to punch him by the chest, it wobbled. “i have a name, you know.”

“yeah. stinky.”

“shut up.”

mans came prepared. doesn’t show it but he’s super duper aware of your schedule. doesn’t need to write it down, doesn’t need any reminder. on the dot. a fine gentleman indeed.

leads you carefully to the bath he prepared for you. he helps you scrub your back (i headcanon him being a master of massaging) he then pecks your scars/stiff areas. “seen this a lot on the shows. hope it works.”

yup, you both had a good laugh after that.

he then gives you your towels. offers to dry your hair because you nearly tucked yourself into bed while your hair was still soaking wet. 

even bought you your favorite dinner, and then chuckled softly when he watched you yawn as you rested your jaw on your palm. “bed.”

“wow. another way of saying, take me to bed, my dear prince,” his gosh darn attractive smirk appeared again. 

oh my god he is a sucker for you. 

when you both are finally on bed,  he pulls you close, peppering you with the last few kisses before you both fell sound asleep. the best part is that sometimes you two stay like that until the next morning.

oh wow. let’s be real here, we have three wonderful gentlemen in this area. now aizawa is a little different. he knows what rough days are like, especially when he himself has gone through them. almost everyday. 

resulting in the yellow sleeping bag. 

but that does not stop you from caring for him. most nights when he returns home late, you treat him like a king because hey, he deserves it. he works so hard taking great care of his students, watching them overnight at the dorms (which results in no sleep). ah, the things you do make him so happy and loved.

so he vows to do the same to you. 

this time he was home earlier than usual - which was weird because usually you come home first. he checked every room, but to no avail. he tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.

okay, weird. where were you? maybe he’s been so used to seeing you return first till the point where he completely forgets about your schedules - basically anything you were doing. and damn does he feel terrible. 

which is why he decides to own up to it.

mans dashes through the apartment, getting the stuff that you like, ditching the stuff that you didn’t like seeing when you got back home, made sure he was wide awake for what he was about to see right in front of him - a representation of him (except that it’s not his son shinsou) or you, still in your best form.

.....maybe he didn’t need to think of the second choice. he was right with the first.

“my back hurts. so, so, bad,” you whined softly as he walked towards you.

“come on, kitten.”

“you should’ve gone to bed, shouta.”

“unfortunately my senses told me not to.”

“but they tell you that everyday.”

“....today was different.”

he lets you sit down on the couch for a bit, worried that you might as well collapse and then fall into the deepest sleep. once that was settled, he lightly tapped your shoulder. “you rested enough. bath time.”

conversations stay light with shouta. he knows what it’s like to be tired, and to constantly have noise around him. at the same time, he doesn’t want you sleeping; hence the small talk.

“are you sure, love?” you asked him. “you know i can-,”

“too late.”

you laughed drowsily. oh, what a man.

he frowns when you were hesitant to take a few bites from the light supper snack he prepared for you. they were your favorite.

“eat up. then we could sleep for as long as we want. i’ll even join you and never leave.”

best wild card pulled out of his pocket because you chomped down on your snack.

i headcanon him to be a little scared when it comes to massaging his s/o, worried that he might hurt them, but when he does, it’s god-tier. his hands work like magic. your back pain was almost all gone in that instant.

the both of you were already pooped out, so at the same time, you headed to bed, finally landing on your fluffy pillows, taking it all in.

and right next to you was the man of your dreams.

okay! two rough day scenarios, now for this majestic bird boy’s s/o who isn’t feeling well!

you weren’t at your best. your nose was runny, you sweat a whole lot. for a while you felt really really hot, so you put on your blanket. suddenly you were freezing COLD. pulled them back up.

gave up and covered one half of your figure. your headache was not getting any better and you used ointment/took a painkiller to get rid of the stinging pain on the top part of your head; but to no avail. it kept getting worse. 

the worst part was that you had to skip your work schedule, and you were really precise with it no matter what. but you just couldn’t when your body hurt as if tons of rocks were placed on your back. this was definitely not going to end soon.

lucky for you, keigo was taking a nap right next to you. he got up abruptly. “um, i had a nightmare. i was...falling down....oh my god, y/n, you are RED! what did you have?”

“i had the same thing as you dummy,” you replied with a different tone in your voice. “ugh, my head.”

“you’re sick, chickadee.” he placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “nothing.” he then did so on your forehead. “you are burning hot.”

“why thank you.”

“y/n, i love you but i’m serious. your temperature is soaring hot.”

“aw, man. i can’t ditch my schedule today.”

“in this house, a ‘schedule’ does not exist. you’re staying at home, and i’m going to spend the day with you. got that?”

you blinked a few times with your sore eyes, before replying with a sniffle. “okay.”

“good little birdie.”

and boY does he finesse his way to giving you the best treatment. 

he may or may not have learnt making chicken soup over the years he has been with you, so cue him making probably the best one for you. (we all know why he learnt this anyway)

feeling cold? gives you warm water for your sore throat. feeling warm? puts a little stand fan for you to take in all the fresh air. might as well even fan you with his wings because keigo loves being extra for his s/o. 

he sits with you and holds your hand. he doesn’t like seeing you like this - who does? all he wanted to do was to head out with you, hold hands, fly with you if he could, eat some yakitori.

no, no. must cure y/n first.

he’s such a cute lil baby 

he’d place the wet cloth on your forehead, and comes checking on you every 10 minutes while he’s out of the room. 

bath time? yes please. the right scents for your already blocked nose and to also prevent you from feeling dizzy from the stronger ones that you owned. even offers to wash your back 🥺

gives you his clothing because you look so darn cute in them. he breathes this huge sigh of relief when your temperature decreases from where it was initially. then proceeds to kiss your cheeks.

“keigo! you’re going...to...get...sick!” 

“i’m practically immune. so don’t worry.” he smirked.

you started feeling a little bit better, so you moved to the living room. but the pains were still there.

“y/n. these medicines would help. you came prepared.”

“that’s because i was worried i’d get the flu once again. i hate this.”

“come on. it’s fine, love. you will get back in action in no time. i’m here for you, aren’t i?”

the day ends with more cuddles, more kisses, chicken soup, laughter, little naps, and finally to bed. it was a long day, and you were feeling a lot more better. the fever died down even more, the pains reduced.

and it was all thanks to this lovely number two hero - more so - your lover.

“get well soon, birdie. i love you.” you heard before your eyelids sealed shut.

------------------------

(a/n) : i. am. so. sorry. this took so long. ARGHH FORGIVE ME😭😭😭

but i do hope this is a wonderful read! 🥺❤

[pigeonp0st]

could u do nat taking care of r when r gets sick (pretty please i beg of u)? preferably lots of cuddles 🥺🥺

idk i just love soft!nat 🥺

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #5

Words: 1,689

Warnings: none?

Notes:

I didn’t really like how this one turned out but i’ve finally decided that staring at it in my drafts with disappointed isn’t gonna make it any better...so here it is. Thank you for requesting, and sorry for spelling mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

———

It started with a cold. Just a couple of sneezes, a runny nose, and a sore throat...the usual.

It started out with you trying your best to hide it. Hide the sickness. That plan went under the moment Natasha heard you sneeze during training... she had you confessing to your sins much too quickly.

Suffice to say she immediately kicked you out of the training area with demands to take some medicine.

So she was the first to realize that you were sick, and she was the first to realize you were getting worse instead of better. She’d pester you endlessly when you wouldn’t want to talk about it, and watch over you like a hawk.

It was sweet, but you also didn’t think it was necessary. You were sure you’d be fine in three or so days.

How wrong you were.

When you wake up with a 103° fever for the third day in a row it has you layed in bed for the whole day groaning about the inequalities of the world, and begging Natasha not to get a doctor for the 100th time.

You were fine. Totally fine.

Natasha watches you with a mix of amusement and concern from the corner of the room and suggests, gently, that maybe you’re not.

You peak over your covers to glare at her in something like betrayal. “I’d be fine if you’d stop pacing and come cuddle with me.”

She seems to think about her options for a long moment and right when you think she’s going to reject you she relents with a heavy sigh and gets into the bed.

She’s so blissfully cold it has you snuggling into her side immediately, both to warm her up and use her as your own personal ice pack.

“You’re burning up,” Natasha whispers, but she pulls you closer to her—like somehow if she’s close enough she can absorb some of your pain and make you feel just that little bit better. “If your fever rises even a little bit we’re going to the doctors, okay?”

She’s concerned and worried, and even though a stranger fussing over you is the last thing you want you know you have to give her this.

As soon as you nod your head in agreement some of the tension seeps out of her body, much to your relief. As ridiculous as it is, you’re worried about her worried about you—if that makes sense.

“Around 100,000 people died from the flu in 2019,” Natasha mumbles against your forehead. She adds quietly after a moment, “just in case you were wondering.”

You were not wondering. What the fuck.

“Nat...that statistic is mostly old people.”

“Yeah,” Nat agrees, “you’ll be fine.”

And despite your body's protest, and how much of a pain it is to pull away, you do, just so you can give Natasha an incredulous look so she knows just what you think about what she’s doing right now.

Her face is unexpectedly vulnerable when you see it. She isn’t trying to bother you...she’s just…she’s worrying herself crazy.

“Nat,” you sigh, ready to embark on the most comforting and articulate speech you can think of, but a sudden fit of coughs has you turning away hurriedly to muffle your face in a pillow.

When your lungs finally decide to stay in your body for now, and Natasha stops rubbing your back, you’re too tired to try and comfort her, so instead you mumble, on the verge of sleep, “if I die; just know I love you.”

Which, in hindsight, probably doesn’t help much.

But she doesn’t sound worried when she replies, just exasperated and fond. “I love you, too.”

———-

When you wake up again it’s to a bunch of kisses and beautiful red hair.

“Stop attacking me,” you grumble, trying to push her away, but you're not able to hide your smile. God, you love your badass (soft) girlfriend.

“Look who's not dead!”

Remembering your last words to her before you went to sleep has you finally opening your eyes and giving Nat a sheepish smile. Oops. “Look who really wants to get sick…”

“My immune system is stronger than yours,” Natasha scoffs, shoving both your medicine at you and a bottle of water.

“Asshole,” you mumble, moving to open the medicine bottle only to get stopped by a hand on your wrist. “What?”

“You need to eat first.”

Thus, starts the trip towards death.

————

“Oh my god, how much farther is it…”

Your fever is finally down and back to safer levels so naturally Natasha has insisted that you’re able to go to the kitchens yourself and sit outside to eat.

You need fresh air, she said.

The room is getting stuffy, she said.

It’ll be good for you, she said.

What a fucking devil.

“You’re literally the most dramatic person to ever grace this earth,” Natasha tells you for only the millionth time since the journey began. “Maybe if you stopped sliding against the wall and crawling on the floor like you got shot three times we’d get there faster.”

“Maybe if you’d help me—”

“I tried! But apparently i’m ruining your image.” She rolls her eyes when she says that, then turns away to grin like she thinks you won’t notice.

You’re a whipped idiot who's decided to make a complete full of yourself and waste what little energy you have just to get your girlfriend to laugh, and to prove to her that you’re doing better.

You’re definitely going to regret this later, but now, in the moment; This is totally worth it. No doubt.

————

Wanda is in the kitchen.

As soon as you see her you straighten up and stop leaning on the wall (and limping). Natasha laughs next to you when she notices.

“You’re doing better, Y/N?” Wanda asks, glancing over you before returning back to the soup she’s making. For you. She’s making soup for you.

You adore her. She’s your favorite person, she’s—

“Not your girlfriend,” Wanda interjects, amused, “and doing this as a concerned teammate, and because your girlfriend asked.”

“Yes, well I love you anyways. Your cooking has gotten very good,” you say, shooting her a grin while you practically bounce to the dining chair, in stark contrast to the way you were dragging yourself down the halls.

Natasha does a good job at trying to not look confused, but she clearly is. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wanda informs her before you get the chance to.

“Favorite person for making you soup?” Natasha asks once Wanda’s done relaying your thoughts. She narrows her eyes at you then. “Not the person who has been taking care of you since you became an avenger, not the person who—”

“It’s very good soup, Nat.”

“Very,” Steve agrees from the living room.

Natasha sighs, takes a sniff of the soup, and resigns herself to the facts she’s faced with. “Yeah...it is.”

——-

“Close your mouth,” Natasha orders, tapping your chin. You listen, waiting patiently for the beep of the thermometer to signal it’s done.

When it does, Natasha pulls it back to study it. There’s a small lapse of anxious silence before Natasha reveals the results. Then...“Ninety-Nine. You’re officially a healthy woman.”

And with that, you’re finally free of the bed rest and able to walk the halls as a newly restored human being.

“I’m free,” you shout, tackling Natasha onto the bed and kissing her all over her face, completely overjoyed. “Natasha, I survived!”

You survived. It only took an exhausting week. When your fever went down a couple of days ago it spiked to 105° a bit after and you were sure you were going to suffocate in Natasha’s worry because of it. You had to go to the medical room...it was awful.

But now Nat laughs, and laughs, and then pulls you into a tight hug to stop all of the kissing. She seems to be unburdened and lighter now that she finally has the numbers she’s wanted.

“Loving you as much as I do is really just living in this constant state of worry and fear,” Natasha says when you’ve both settled down. “I do not like things being out of my control,” she admits, kissing the crown of your head. “Especially when it involves my heart.”

“Your heart,” you repeat, curious. “Is that what I am?”

“Ignoring the worry and fear part?” Natasha teases, quirking an eyebrow.

“We both know those feelings are accompanied with a multitude of good and beautiful emotions. I feel them too.”

Natasha smiles then, soft and gentle, and full of admiration. “Yes.”

You tilt your head. “Yes...what?”

“Yes, you are my heart. Or at least you feel like you are.”

At that, with a determination and seriousness that visibly shocks Natasha you say, “i’ll protect it. I’ll protect myself, and because you're mine also, I'll help protect you. Always.”

“Always,” Natasha agrees, her fingertips trailing across your cheek. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, embarrassed suddenly, “of course.”

————

“Are...are you serious?”

Natasha scowls into her tea and says nothing in response. This is fucking hilarious.

Your lovely girlfriend doesn’t seem to think so because the second she sees your face struggling not to laugh she begins glaring at you. “Don’t,” Nat warns. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“I seem to recall you saying, and I quote, ‘my immune system is stronger than yours.’” You grin. “Oh how ironic this is.”

“I’m not sick—”

“Aw, but baby, the amount of tissues on the floor seem to be saying otherwise,” you gesture towards the growing pile, feeling absolutely no sympathy until Natasha glances at the pile with a sigh of defeat. She looks so small and sad covered in her pile of blankets...it simply won’t do. “Don’t fret, my love. I will take care of you, just as you took care of me,” you assure her, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“First things first,” you tilt her chin up, “i’ll get Wanda to make you some soup so you can take some medicine.”

“I hate the world,” Natasha grumbles, mumbling some curses in russian.

“I love you, too.”