#cotton stoles for ladies

[kcsshop]

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[itokri]

Investment Pieces: Why Stoles Are Timeless Additions to Your Wardrobe

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Stoles are timeless accessories that add elegance and versatility to any wardrobe. Our collection of Sanganeri block print stoles, Banarasi silk stoles, block printed stoles, cotton stoles, and fancy stoles for ladies offers something for everyone. Each piece is a testament to the rich heritage of Indian craftsmanship and a perfect investment for any fashion enthusiast.

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With us, you’re not just buying an accessory; you’re embracing a piece of art that tells a story of tradition, skill, and beauty.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Cold Jax" Geechee!Erik Killmonger

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Black American Folktale.

Summary: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens is a Geechee wanderer and lover of big-legged women and good moonshine. On a trip to visit his favorite juke joint in 1940s Mississippi, he entertains a lover of sorts, Lulabelle, the juke joint owner and Madame of the nearby whorehouse. Erik battles two mythical creatures from Black American folklore, the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man in order to save Lulabelle and her establishment. The tale is told from the perspective of a ghost who was once Lulabelle's best friend.

Word count: 5.5K

"The winter time is coming

And it's going to be slow

You can't make the weather baby

it's dry long so

You betta come on in my kitchen

because it's going to be Raining outdoors..."

Cassandra Wilson – "Come on in my Kitchen" (Written by Robert Johnson)

There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people's pussy.

She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the "special ladies" house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin' and ice-cold beer havin' establishment.

And if it hadn't been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might've lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin' through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I'm gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain't been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all...

"Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?"

Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the "loving" rooms inside her special house.

"There's one bottle left," Ruth called out.

The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

For the men who didn't fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron's liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie's Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford's immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

He was coming too.

The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

Erik Stevens.

His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She'd dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

"I'll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle," Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn't maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peek out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

Lulabelle squinted.

"These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don't worry about it."

Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

"Eat your heart out, Joan," she muttered to herself.

She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn't get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled "Lula's". Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There'd be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

"What was that?" Honey Boy asked.

His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

"Sounded like something caught," she said.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A memory.

Being a young teen girl with...

No. Don't think of her. That was the past.

Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

"Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap," she said.

"Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week."

She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

"That sounded like death is on his way," Eva said.

The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

"Don't say that, Eva. It's just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—"

The shriek pierced the air again.

"Lord have mercy," Eva said.

The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

"See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let's get ready for tonight, y'all."

Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.

Pussy poppin' in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula's juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you."

He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray's hair pomade.

"Lemme get you a drink, Daddy," she purred.

"No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here."

He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

"Goodness gracious, you already hot down here," he whispered in her ear.

His finger swiped across Lulabelle's panties bringing her clit to life.

"Oh... there it is... my jewel," he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

"You gon' sweat my hair out already!" she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

"Get the fuck out," he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

"Out!" he barked.

Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

"Turn around."

The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

"You miss Daddy?"

"Yes!"

He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

"I missed this pussy... so much... taking me so deep!"

His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

"Take this dress off!"

He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

"Lula, shit... Lula..."

Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

"Big legged girl... mmmm," he groaned.

He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

"Daddy hittin' that bottom yet?"

"You in there... real deep, Daddy."

"Lemme get deeper..."

Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

"That's a good girl... let that pussy talk to Daddy's dick, Lula."

His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

"That's it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy."

He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

"God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula."

"You could," she said stroking the waves on his hair.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

"Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn't get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it."

She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

"She's in the room, y'know. Up there hiding in the corner."

"Don't say that, Erik. You know it scares me."

"If you did what I told you to do, she'd go away."

"As long as she don't start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost."

"Can you? Then how come you're scared?"

"She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her."

"A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out..."

"I can't. I can't do that to her. If she's just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little."

"If you say so."

"Let's not talk about her."

His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn't see the dead teenager at all.

"She mad?" Lulabelle asked.

"She loves you. It's why she stays around... floating from room to room... following you."

Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

"Don't look. Please."

Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room," Tweety Pie squeaked out.

"Give me a minute."

Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik's dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

"You ruined my panties," she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

"Don't need 'em, I'll be back inside of you soon enough," he said.

Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

"You look fine," he said zipping his pants.

Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

"Pardon us," Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.

Lulabelle sat on Erik's lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn't let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He'd become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He'd spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

"You bet not cum," he ordered with harsh breath.

"I won't, I promise," she insisted with clenched teeth.

She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn't seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

The man's face was long, and he had long teeth... and long fingers... and long legs... and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

"Lulabelle... Lulabelle..." the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik's. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

"Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don't go now, we'll chicken out!"

Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

"Dontcha see him, girl?" Lulabelle shouted.

"Oh, he's just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase-"

"It's the Plat Eye. You don't see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?"

"You so silly girl! Look at him... just a man tryna run like us."

"No!"

Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

"If you don't wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle."

"You don't see that monster right there?!" she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

The Plat Eye smirked.

"Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!"

"Elizabeth!"

An arm grabbed Lulabelle's elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

"Don't move, gal."

The voice didn't have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

"She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can't protect you."

Lulabelle didn't turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

"Elizabeth! Come back!"

"It's too late, Lulabelle."

"How you know my name?"

"I've seen you 'round here before with your friend."

She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

"Don't hurt me, Mister."

"Nah, I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

"She can't see what it is?"

"She see what she wanna see."

The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw...

Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik's legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle's arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

"Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me."

The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

"Should've known you'd be around here," The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle's neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik's gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

The man from the Crossroads.

The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

The Geechee Man.

"Ya don't play fair," The Plat Eye grumbled again.

"And?" Erik said.

Erik's firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle's pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

"This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—"

Lulabelle snatched up Erik's switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn't anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

"Put that down, Lula. It's not a toy to be played with," Erik said zipping up his pants.

The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature's arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

"Give her to me," the Plat Eye demanded.

Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

"Nigga you ain't getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place."

"There are rules!"

The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

"I make the rules," Erik said.

An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye's mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

"My man," The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

"Stay back!"

"Lula... c'mon, baby. I've been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?"

"No."

"I just give you good lovin' when I can."

"That's why you can't be with me all the time?"

He nodded.

"I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere."

Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

"Don't be scared of me, Lula."

"What are you... really?"

"Your man."

"You ain't no man."

"I'm no demon if that's what you're worried about."

"God forbid if I'd been fucking the devil."

"I'm no devil, girl. Far from it."

He stroked her face.

"Let's go to the back. I need you... right now."

His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to... to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn't anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

"Are there others?" she asked, "Others like you around here?"

"Always. But you don't have to worry about nothin'. You got me. No one fucks with me.'

"How come you didn't save Elizabeth?"

"She didn't want to be saved."

"But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?"

"She's still here. She'll never leave until you chase her on."

"Is she happy?"

"Like I told you, she loves you. If you're happy, she's happy."

"God won't punish me for being with you, will he?"

"She won't. I promise."

"What about me selling pussy and a little dick?"

"Not even on her mind."

Lulabelle smiled.

Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

"How many women have you seduced over the years?"

"You my favorite."

"That didn't answer my question.," she said putting a hand on her hip.

"You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?"

Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

Moonlight bathed Erik's face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

"Daddy needs to take care of you... oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again."

He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

"Elizabeth wants you to get all this," he said grinding against her.

"Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?"

"She already knows."

Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

That's their story, and I ain't tellin' it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon...

Part 2 "There's Some Whores in This House" HERE.

A.N:

This was a birthday story I wrote for @soufcakmistress back in 2021.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

Ann-Margret (Bye Bye Birdie, Viva Las Vegas)—While she started as a singer, the lovely and talented Ann-Margret also left her mark as an actress in Hollywood. She won a Golden Globe for her first role in Pocketful of Miracles and was nominated again for Bye Bye Birdie, and very nearly stole the show from Elvis Presley himself in Viva Las Vegas.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

Ann-Margret:

She can sing! She can dance! She had excellent chemistry with Elvis! She reportedly survived a 22 foot fall off of a stage! The movies and old and problematic but I love her 1000%

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part Six)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Words: 1,456

You heard a few more footsteps until the door was ripped wide open and you saw her. You looked her straight into the eyes which were filled with anger and you were barely quick enough to cover your naked body with the large white cotton that made up Tommy’s bed sheets.

“What is she doing here?” the brunette asked, causing Tommy to sit up and pull up his suit pants which, by this point, he had already gotten rid of simple for the sake of comfort.

“Lizzie, let’s talk downstairs, eh” he then said without bothering to put on any other clothing. He approached her as he spoke, but she pulled away from him and spat with anger.

“I cannot believe that you are fucking this whore” she cursed and Tommy immediately lifted his index finger, cautioning her.

“Lizzie, shut up and calm down” Tommy spat before pulling Lizzie into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

“You don’t tell me to shut up Thomas! I am carrying your child and you need to show some fucking respect” Lizzie argued as, slowly, but surely, she followed him downstairs and into his office.

“I will show you some fucking respect when you learn how to respect my guests. Y/N is one of them and I expect you to behave accordingly, eh’ Tommy told her angrily while, on the way to his office, lightening himself a cigarette which he retrieved from the pocket in his pants.

“Now tell me Lizzie, what’s wrong? Why are you here?” he then asked as, finally, they both reached his office. He took a seat while Lizzie stood in front of him with her arms crossed in protest.

“This woman you brought into your bedroom is a thief. She stole from the safe at the gambling den last night” Lizzie said rather angrily, causing Tommy’s eyebrows to furrow.

“How much is missing?” he asked, although he did not really appear to be concerned.

“A lot. About 10,000 pounds. Linda did two counts and we are exactly 10,000 pounds short and I am telling you that it was her. It must have been her” Lizzie tried to allege but, of course, Tommy had your back and chuckled.

“It couldn’t have been her Lizzie. She was with the night before, at the library” Tommy explained with a sense of calm in his voice and this frustrated Lizzie even more.

“At the library? She can’t even fucking read Tommy” Lizzie spat and Tommy answered her calmly again.

“I am teaching her” he explained and this surprised Lizzie. He really seemed to be making an effort with you and she did not understand why.

“You disgust me” Lizzie said before asking him whether he was in love with you.

“Perhaps I am” Tommy told her calmly again and, when she queried what this meant for her and her baby, Tommy began to think about it. It was not really something he had put his mind to just yet but he knew that, sometime soon, he had to make a decision and Lizzie reminded him of exactly that.  

“You are in the run to become a Labour MP and I am not going to keep quiet about the baby being yours. Just keep that in mind when you fuck her” Lizzie threatened him and, as if the threat didn’t mean anything to him, he changed the topic. He knew that, ideally, he should be marrying her. It would be the right thing to do and increase his chances during the election. But, even for Tommy, marriage was something reserved for people who were in love and he was certainly not in love with Lizzie. He was in love with you.

***

After twenty minutes of talking to Lizzie about you and the stolen money and a couple of phone calls to Michael and Arthur, Tommy returned to his bedroom and saw that you had gone.

“The lady has left sir. But she did leave a rather cryptic note” Frances said as she noticed from the hallway that Tommy was looking for you.

“A note?” Tommy asked surprised and, when Frances handed it to him, he smiled.

“Gone Home. See you. Love, Y/N” was all it said and, considering that, until most recently, you could not even write out your own name, he was rather impressed by your efforts.

At home, however, you were met by a surprise and when you noticed some light shining through your apartment’s window, you pulled out the gun from your handbag which Tommy had given last night simply as a precaution.

Of course, you lacked experience when it came to shooting a gun but carrying and pointing one was often intimidating enough for any intruder to disappear. Thus, you opened the door to your unit just like this, with the gun in your hand, pointing inwards and into the direction of your living room.

“Who is it and what are you doing in my apartment?” you called out and, when you heard a familiar voice greeting you, you quickly lowered your weapon.

“Mother? Jesus! What are you doing here?” you asked as you put your gun away but your mother was furious already.

“What are you doing with a gun?” she yelled at you and, when you explained to her that you were carrying it simply as a precaution, she began to lecture you until you finally interrupted her.

“Can you please tell me why you are here?” you asked her again and she sighed before sitting back down at the kitchen table to sip on her cup of tea.

“I am here to check on you because I received this from a local member of the police. His name is Constable Moss” she told you before handing you letter which informed her that her husband had been found dead. Since he had been missing for a while, his death alone did not really surprise her, but the fact that he was shot was something that came as concern for her.

“You did this, didn’t you?” she then immediately alleged, seeing that you were carrying a gun and when you did not answer her right away, she began to yell again. “Answer me!” she demanded, which is when you smiled and shook your head.

“I didn’t do jack shit mother” you then said but she didn’t believe you.

“You killed him” she thus alleged again and, again, you shook your head.

“No, I didn’t. But I am glad that he is dead now. He deserved it and I am thankful to whomever was kind enough to pull the trigger” you then said and, for some reason, she was even more concerned about him having been shot now than before, when she assumed that it was you who had killed him.

“What is wrong with you child? Who did you get yourself involved with?” she asked, panicking, while roaming through the papers and letters scattered across your kitchen table/

“I got myself involved with people who can actually stand up for themselves” was all that you said until, suddenly, your mother picked up your latest pay cheque.

“Shelby Company Limited” she read out loud before giving you yet another lecture.

“I told you to stay away from the factories around here” she told you harshly but you did not want to hear it. You had enough of her trying to protect you after she failed to protect you from the monster who was your stepfather.

“I am not working at the factories, mother. I am working for Thomas Shelby. He has offices in town” you explained to her nonetheless in order to relief her from her concerns but, unbeknownst to you, telling her that you were working for this man himself made her worry even more.

“You must resign immediately” she told you and, when she spoke, it almost sounded like she was giving you an order.

“No” was your response. “I enjoy working for him and won’t be resigning” you explained.

“I beg you Y/N, just listen to me this one time. Resign and come back to Camden Town with me” she then begged you almost desperately but, again, you shook your head.

“No. I am done with this life. I like it here. Now please leave” you told her sternly, but she would not relent. This was too important to her and you did not quite know why.

“I am staying here for a few days Y/N. This is my apartment too. I will be departing Sunday afternoon” she then told you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Fine. You should have the bed then as I have things to do” you told her before grabbing hold of your bag again with the intention to leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked but you did not answer her.

“I won’t be gone for long” was all you said before closing the door behind you.

Tags: @fastfan@elenavampire21@dolllol2405@allie131313@cilliansangel@coldbastille@kpopgirlbtssvt@cdej6@kathrinemelissa@landlockedmermaid77@crazymar15@damedomino  @lauren-raines-x@miss-bunny19@skinny-bitch-juice@odorinana@cloudofdisney@weepingstudentfishhorse@allexiiisss@geminiwolves@letsstarsfalling@ysmmsy@chlorrox@tommyshelbypb@chocolatehalo@music-lover911@desperate-and-broken@mysticaldeanvoidhorse@peaky-cillian@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz@december16-1991@captivatedbycillianmurphy@romanogersendgame@randomfangirl2718@missymurphy1985@peakyscillian@lilymurphy03@deefigs@theflamecrystal@livinginfantaxy@rosey1981@hanster1998@fairypitou@zozeebo@kasaikawa@littleweirdoalien@sad-huffle-nerd@theflamecrystal@0ghostwriter0@stylescanbeatmyback@1-800-peakyblinders@datewithgianni@momoneymolife@mcntsee@janelongxox@basiclassy@being-worthy@chaotic-bean-of-smolness@margoo0@vhscillian@crazymar15@im-constantly-fangirling@namelesslosers@littlewhiterose@ttzamara@cilleveryone@peaky-cillian@severewobblerlightdragon@dolllol2405@pkab@babaohhhriley@littleweirdoalien@alreadybroken-ts@masteroperator@stevie75@shabzy96@rainbow12346@obsessedwithfandomsx@geeksareunique@laysalespoir@paigem00@lkarls@vamp-army@luckystarme@myjumper@gxorg@eline-1806@goldenharrysworld@cristinagronk16@stylesofloki@faatxma@slut-for-matt-murdock@tpwkstiles@myjumper@cloudofdisney@look-at-the-soul@smellyzcat@kittycatcait219@theliterarybeldam@being-worthy@layazul@lyn07@kagilmore@50svibes@mainstreetlilly@ourthatgirlabby@bitchwhytho@takethee@registerednursejackie@sofi128@mrkdvidal1989@minxsblog@heidimoreton@laylasbunbunny@laylasbunbunny@queenshelby@camilleholland89@forgottenpeakywriter@vintagecherryt@indierockgirrl@mrkdvidal1989@bluesongbird@dudde-44@gasolinesavages@kissforvoid@bluebird592@1eugenia1isabella1@esposadomdp@lulunalua23@lovelace42@bookklover23@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake@moonmaiden1996@marlenamallowan@cyphah (cannot tag)@majesticcmey@cleverzonkwombatsludge@throughgoeshamilton@alessioayla@elenavampire21@justforfiction@cilliansangel@alannielaraye@satellitelh@pandoramyst@duckybird101@snixx2088@kylianswag@alessioayla@pono-pura-vida@iraisbored69@howling-wolf97@aesthetic0cherryblossom@weirdo-rules@lovemissyhoneybee@dazaiscum@esposadomd@etherealkistar@ur--mommy@throughgoeshamilton  

[oceanbug]

when worlds collide

smau non!idol ningning x reader

15. double trouble.

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“Holy shit, Wonyoung’s coming; phones down." With Yunjin’s frantic words came even more frantic movement from the whole table. Everyone scurried to put their phones away so that it wouldn’t look like they were texting each other on purpose. That would be rude.

“Hey, babe~ How’s the food? Isn’t it delicious?” Wonyoung’s voice is always sweet, like honey; it felt like eating cotton candy with how light yet sweet she sounded. If you hadn’t known her, you’d be shocked to know that she hung out with a vicious dog like Ningning.

“It’s actually pretty good; we should come here more often!”

“Let’s call it a date then! And a hello to all you lovely ladies! Sorry for interrupting; I just needed to say hi to my baby.”

“Oh, it’s not trouble. It’s perfectly understandable to say hi to your girlfriend when you guys coincidentally meet up at the same restaurant. You’re never a bother, Wonyoung.” It was pretty weird that you all ended up at the same restaurant, but they did just open. It’s understandable for a bunch of college kids to go to the first place offering free food.

Wonyoung walked away, and everyone’s phones went right up again. Both tables were frantically texting, and the whole ambiance of the restaurant was awkward. Even strangers could pick up the tension. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize both tables were texting about each other. The glances at each other every 10 seconds gave it away.

Giselle was the first one to break the silence.

“Aw, you got some cake on you; let me wipe it off." She wiped off the frosting next to your lip and licked it off her finger. Everyone at your table stared at you two in awe and confusion.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” whispered a very confused Jimin.

“Just go with it, please.”

No one understood what was happening except you and Giselle, which is understandable since your plan was made in the study room yesterday.

_______________________________________________

17 hours prior, in the library’s study room.

“Why would she think Wonyoung would lie about that?”

You felt your jaw drop and your eyes widen. Is Giselle insinuating what you think she is?

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, is the rumor true? Did you hook up with Yeonjun Giselle?” She could be lying to you, but you might as well ask. You were too curious about where this story was going to even care if she might be lying.

“No, I didn’t. I’d never cross Ning like that; we’re besties. Well, we were besties.”

“Then, why would Wonyoung lie about something like that?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, and that’s where you come in. Wonyoung would never spill her secrets, and especially never to you. But if we were to keep her distracted enough, we could get some info from everyone else.”

“But why me? I’m sure Jimin or anyone else would be a better choice.”

“It’s simple; you’re the only one who can keep Ning distracted long enough for us to even get to Wonyoung. Everyone else is a breeze, but Ning’s tough; they’re glued against the hip.”

“Me?” In your mind, Ningning hated you.

“Haven’t you noticed? Ning’s tame around you. She does that for no one else. I don’t exactly know why, but she considers you human. Everyone else just happens to be a bunch of roaches that she’s ready to squash. Not you, though.”

“Ok, well, how would I even distract her?”

“That’s where I come along, my little kitten. Ning hates me enough for ‘stealing’ Yeonjun; imagine her fury when she sees the two of us together. Not just in a friendly way, but together.”

“It’ll be like you ’stole’ me from her, like you 'stole’ Yeonjun.”

“Bingo-bingo, my friend.”

“Ok, let’s do it. Let's fake a date.”

______________________________________

Present Day at ‘Le Dessert’ Cafe

The plan wasn’t supposed to take effect so fast, but I guess now’s a perfect opportunity. You couldn’t really tell your friends that you were fake dating; it had to be as believable as possible. It did make you blush a bit, which in some sense makes things more believable but also way more embarrassing.

You wanted nothing more than to turn around and see the look on Ningning's face, but you had to play it cool. That is, until a certain honey-voiced princess came skipping back to your table.

“Omg, I just had the best idea! We’re all friends, aren’t we? Why don’t we combine tables? Then I can be close to my baby. What do you say? You wouldn’t have any objections, would you?”

Fucking shit. No way is Wonyoung on to your plan already? She knows Ningning wants nothing more than to maul Aeri’s eyes out, and bringing Yeonjun to sit at the table with us? Even worse. What’s her plan? You could feel your heart beating faster and faster as the table stayed silent. It wasn’t until you felt another hand on top of yours that you calmed down. You turned to the source, and Giselle was giving you a reassuring nod. Right. Breathe. If this was part of Wony’s game, you could play better.

“We’d love that, Wonyoung! Hey Ningning, let’s pair tables.” You turned to her and gave her your biggest smile. Behind it was true fear as to what could come of this, but you had to look confident. You will make your plan work.

Ningning gave you a death stare but simply scoffed and began to move tables.

That’s it? After glaring daggers at you all day, she’s just going to move without a fight? Fine.

There was an awkward shuffling of tables, and everyone got settled into their slightly cramped seats. The tension in the room seems to have gotten even worse. Now, everyone is face-to-face; no one could hide behind their phones.

“So, this place is pretty cool, am I right, ladies?” Can this prick Yeonjun shut up?

“Yeah, pretty good food, I guess.” At least Yunjin was trying to converse; you could tell her, along with all your friends, had been incredibly confused about things. You wanted nothing more than to explain to them, but you couldn’t risk jeopardizing the plan.

The awkward silence was quick to return.

“I hear half of you knew each other in high school! What was that like?” You couldn’t fault Minji for asking such a painfully awkward question, but in her defense, she’s barley in the group chat enough to know. The body language of everyone who went to Spring Hill High became very tense. Everyone straightened their posture and avoided eye contact with each other. It was Giselle who finally broke the tension once again.

“I couldn’t tell you; I transferred out before senior year.”

“Sure, ‘transferred.’”

“What was that, Ning?”

“Nothing. Just that, I don’t consider getting shipped off to a rehabilitation center as ‘transferring’, but whatever.”

“Ok guys, can we just be civil?” You tried diffusing the situation, but all it got you was a death stare from Ningning.

“She asked a question; I’m giving more context to Aeri’s answer.”

“Ok. That’s fair.” That’s all you managed to get out; you didn’t want to argue. You knew you would be getting nowhere if you continued. 

“High school was pretty chill; my lovely lady and I here dated. I guess you can say fate brought us back together, right?” Yeonjun completely washed over any negative aspect of him and Ningning’s relationship and made it sound like they just drifted apart, then reconciled in college. The thing is, he couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with anyone else at the table other than Ningning. It was almost like he wanted her reassurance that they were in love, or more specifically, that she loved him. All he got in response was an eye-roll from Ningning and an “awe” from Wonyoung. It was a tough crowd for someone like him.

Trying to avoid Minji’s painfully awkward question, you took a bite of your cake, enjoying it. What was in this cake that made is so delicious? You couldn’t get enough!

“Oh no, you got more cake on you! Let me get it off.”

You prepared yourself to have cake wiped off your face again, except that’s not what happened.

The cake was off your lips but is now plastered on Giselle’s, or was until she licked it off. You sat up in shock. Giselle just kissed you. I guess couples do kiss, even fake ones, but could she have given you a warning? Before you could respond or even turn your face, a voice came blaring from the table.

“Ok, what the fuck was that?” It was Jimin.

“Oh, Y/N didn’t tell you? We decided last night we had a lot in common, so why not start dating? We look totally cute, don’t you think?”

The look on Jimin’s face quickly turned from confusion to hurt. Along with Ningning, who just stared at you,

“What happened to ‘You don’t know her, she doesn’t go here’” You forgot you texted Jimin that.

“What happened to ‘it didn’t mean anything when I hung out with Giselle’” You also forgot to text Ningning that. Ok. Double trouble. You have got to start reading your text more thoroughly before sending them.

“Look, I can explain." Before you even got another word out, Ningning had already begun spitting poison.

“What’s your fucking problem, Aeri? Huh? What problem do you have with me that you can't resist stealing from me? Are you that fucking obsessed with me? First you fucked my boyfriend four years ago; now you're crawling back for more? When will it end? You’re sad, pathetic, and lonely. Go fuck yourself.”

The room was silent. The restaurant was silent.

“Ningning-“ She was quick to cut you off again.

“And you. What’s your problem? I confided in you. I told you how I felt after I got cheated on. I thought you would understand, but it turns out you're just a mega-bitch like everyone else. Was anything you told me even true? If you’re already dating this tramp, did you ever really like Jimin? Or was that a lie just to get on my good side? Did you get your little friend Yujin to help you? You’re such a fucking freak for playing the long game. I bet you found it funny when I kissed Jimin at our graduation party, huh? Like it was all part of your plan? Let’s all laugh at Ningning! Well, not anymore. Fuck you. Goodbye.”

With that, Ningning stormed out; half-way through her meltdown, she had started crying. She was too focused on her words to even notice. Her group of friends were quick to follow along, except Yeonjun and Wonyoung, who remained at the table.

Before you even get to process what had just happened, round two was already brewing up.

“You... like me, Y/N? Is that what this is all about? Why’d you feel the need to lie? Did you not trust me enough to tell me? You decided to lie to me for our entire fucking friendship; are you serious? I told you that we could talk about anything; why couldn’t you talk to me about this?” Jimin was red in the face, slightly tearing up and choking on her words.

Speechless. That’s all you were. You couldn’t think of a response. Overwhelmed, you couldn't think of anything. Your throat began to close up more and more, feeling your body become heavier. You gave into the weight and collapsed onto the ground. Before your eyes fully close, all you hear is Sakura’s panicked voice:

“Is there peanut oil in this cake? Y/N’s has a peanut allergy! Fuck, I’ll get her epipen pen; call an ambulance!”

Everything faded into black.

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masterlist ~ next

(Synopsis) Y/N had never been the type to take life for granted. You grew up with the mindset that if you wanted something, you had to work for it; So getting paired up with the university’s “Rich Bitch” Ning Yi Zhuo for your midterm was the last thing you wanted. Are you willing to step into the world of fame for an A+?

taglist (open): @azraism ; @kimsgayness ; @sewiouslyz ; @winieter ; @llluvbluy ; @i06kkura ; @everydayiloveyves ; @edamboon

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Ooooo Christmas fic from Factorial :0 I love your writing so much!! How about one from one of your Ordem AUs? I really like your post-opc with Johnny and Rubens, but any of the others (xcom, opd/opc fix-it, maybe even that steampunk one you were poking at a while back) are also good. Thank you and Merry Crimmus friend!! Go nuts!! <33

Merry Christmas Curly!!! You do not have post-opc au, you have a special treat... (likely never to be continued steampunk au)

And to everyone else, a wodnerful holiday season to you all.

Please find the ao3 link here is you so prefer: [link]

Mild body horror, but if you can handle ordem canon you should be fine. No spoilers, it's too au for that!

This is the furthest into one of his father's factories that Thiago has been in a long time. Long gone are the great thick safety rails and brass plating, replaced with burning pipes and skin-meltingly hot steam exhausts. The machines used here before were dangerous, yes, but nothing next to the ghost tech now installed. Even Thiago knew ghost tech was dangerous when his father vanished a decade ago; whoever stole his inheritance clearly has no such concerns, not when factory accidents now make the everyday news.

It is Thiago who writes that news, of course. The Gazette is not the most sophisticated of papers, but it is one that allows him the freedom to investigate such accidents. Explosions, burns, loom teeth catching on long skirts... he has seen much, and written it all. Even choking slightly on the cotton dust in the air after yesterday's work Thiago keeps looking; the lack of cleaning plus the exposed boil-vents is reason enough to slam the company, but only page seven news really.

What he hasn't seen, though, is a factory like this one; he had managed to convince the foreman to give him the key, between a silver tongue, a shared and genuine concern for the workers' safety after a number of disappearances, and a the insinuation that he was sleeping with the man's wife. And now he is inside...

The other bits are just factory, but it's in jimmying open a door and getting towards the machine rooms that he finds it.

The true meaning of ghost tech.

Pulsating walls, steam churning like blood, a hulking mass of wire and brass and steam... There's blood all around, and lumps of flesh mixed with the pipework. If it is human or not... Well, he prefers not to think about where those missing workers went.

He also has no idea as to if this monstrosity itself can be considered alive or not; careful of making noise, he grabs a pencil and paper, and begins to draw.

His sketches are nothing special, but they can be used as references for the stamp cutter. Chip here, gap there, move it all about...

He's nearly done when a gloved hand covers his mouth and pulls him closer.

Looking up... a woman, smartly dressed in green-trimmed black. The lace from her hat covers only the left side of her face, a cloth mask covers the lower half, and the edge of a cage-crinoline is pressed against the back of his legs. It's somewhat out of date, most women now preferring the half-hooped crinolette if not the recently developed bustle.

... Maybe Thiago should be paying more attention to his surroundings, and less to his colleagues working on the fashion rags.

Still, with a hand over his throat, there is not much Thiago can do but attempt to make eye contact.

It is very much failing, the woman's one visible eye is trailing over the abomination before them.

"I suggest," she whispers, bite in her tone. "Leaving very carefully and quietly."

Her hand shifts, and Thiago gains space to speak.

"Unfortunately, dear lady, I am here on business, and I am not quite finished yet."

He keeps his voice low, not wanting to draw attention if that thing can hear.

She glances at his sketch, then at him. Pauses a moment, and then…

"Oh, about the explosion?" She asks.

"Explosion?"

What explosion?

"Hm," her eyes run over the abomination again. "The one that will happen in around five minutes. A terrible shame about the use of fire boilers in an uncleaned textile mill."

"Ma'am, that is not a boiler."

"As a member of the Special Investigations Unit," she flashes a badge too quickly to see, then hides it again; there is no way that is a legitimate police unit, Thiago had been studying those extensively before taking to trespassing. "That is all that you know."

"But you know more, don't you?" He presses a little. "These were my father's factories, you know? The Infinite Production Conglomerate stole them during probate."

That seems to catch her attention.

"You're a Fritz?" she asks.

"Thiago," he replies, following her gaze to watch the monster.

The hand leaves his face entirely, reaching instead into a pocket of her skirt. She leans to one side as she does - it must be a large pocket - before pulling out... Some form of gun.

"Elizabeth," she tells him, as though there were fewer than six Elizabeth's working in his department alone. "Now, I am going to see that this monstrosity finds its way to hell. I highly suggest leaving."

Thiago does not know what sort of gun this Miss Elizabeth is holding, but he does know what happens if you combine even a slight flame in a textile factory this poorly maintained.

And he enjoys having skin.

"Alright," he whispers back. "There's an open door just across the factory floor."

"Lockpick?"

"Foreman knows me. He lent me the key."

"Hm," she considers a little. "Alright, your way; I don't want to climb back through the window."

She got in through a window? In that dress?

Thiago would say he is impressed, but flabbergasted would be a more accurate term.

"Of course, my dear Miss Elizabeth," he offers a hand. "Shall we?"

She ignores the hand, and starts crossing the floor.

Thiago quickly finishes up his sketch, and follows after her.

Now that he has seen it, he can hear the squelching of the abomination echoing in the pipes...

He tries not to think about that.

They make it outside without incident, and Thiago finds the guards he snuck around collapsed on the floor. There is no smell of blood, so he likes to think of them as merely drugged unconscious.

It is dark, he cannot see details, he can be forgiven.

Also, Miss Elizabeth does not drag the bodies into the factory, which anyone sensible would do with corpses before demanding a cover-up from a reporter of dubious repute, so they are probably clear of murder charges.

"Permission to explode your possessed factory, Mister Fritz?"

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth; I do think such things an insult to my father's legacy, after all."

She does not say more before snapping open her strange gun. She adds not a bullet but a canister to it, before flipping it closed and pointing it at the broken window.

And then she fires.

No projectile he recognises comes from the gun, but instead a small burning leading a trail of red smoke.

It enters the window.

Miss Elizabeth grabs Thiago by the arm, and pulls him to the ground.

It does not even take a second for the cotton dust to ignite, the entire factory quickly developing into a blazing ball of soon-to-be-ash.

Miss Elizabeth keeps him low for a while - long enough for the shrapnel and spitting fireballs to pass - before carefully getting to her feet.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Elizabeth," he tells her, as he also struggles up.

"I must bid you farewell; I have a telegram to send," she dusts off her dress, and corrects the tilt of her hat. "I suggest leaving; pray we do not meet again, Mister Fritz. You have no business here."

She does not wait for an answer before returning the strange gun to her skirts, and begins sprinting down the road, in the opposite direction to the bell of the approaching fire cart.

What a strange woman, Thiago thinks, even as he, too, sprints off at ninety degrees to them both.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest PT 22

Masterlist

A mostly fluffy piece.

Sneed hovered over you, his voice calling to you.

"She's breathing." he sighed, dropping down to rest his head against the table.

"okay get the stretcher we can move her now." Hetty said to the other nurses.

"Belle, what on earth is happening here?" Lady Jane demanded.

Belle used a cloth to wipe your blood from her hands.

"y/n had an aortic aneurysm and Bruit. She needed the operation to save her life." Belle explained.

"No Belle what are you doing? I thought you were rolling bandages and reading to patients." Her mother said flatly.

"Excuse me, Lady Jane but your daughter is one of the most skilled surgeons I have ever met." Sneed announced, "the only one who surpasses her has been dragged to his death."

Lady Jane looked at her husband. Aputi and Tim came into the room carrying a stretcher which along with Hetty and Sneed they lifted you on to it and carried you upstairs to a private room.

"Is she going to live?" Edmund asked Sneed as they stood in the room.

"I can't be sure, until she wakes up." He replied, pressing his knuckles to his mouth.

"I've grown quite fond of her." Edmund admitted.

Belle watched as your eyes began to shift below your eyelids. A shadow falls over the room and she looks up to see Jack standing outside the room.

"Jack." Your voice breaks everyone's thoughts and a rush of excitement bubbles through the room. Sneed pulls open the door.

"Let's give them a moment. Perhaps you should take belle home so she can wash up?" Sneed spoke as Jack walked into the room.

"What happened lad, where is Gaines?" Edmund asked.

"I...Monks um the man who stole the money, or well he tried to...I don't, I don't understand what they were saying but he killed Gaines." Jack scrambled to lie.

"Governor?" Sneed beckoned the older man from the room.

Jack let out a sob as he took hold of your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

"You did it." You say quietly. The pain in your chest was immense but you tried to ignore it.

"I had help." He smiled at you.

*_*_*_*

A few hours had passed with Jack beside you untill you had fallen back asleep and Sneed had returned.

"Go get some.rest, take a break. I'll watch over her." He assured him.

"you'll come and find me if anything changes?" Jack asked, showing all the vulnerability he felt. Sneed promised and he took a seat beside your bed. Jack went to his room and cleaned his hands of your blood before changing into a clean cotton shirt. Unable to rest at all he made his way to the cat and bagpipes where he found his friends sitting at a table together

"How is she?" Flashbang asked.

"She's alive, she woke up for a bit." Jack said to them, Rotty placed a drink in front of him and squeezed his shoulder.

Red slid a drawstring bag across the table to him with a smile.

"Your share."

"What do we now?" Jack asked.

"Well this town is ours now. As long as we all do it slowly and don't draw attention to ourselves we can finally get what we always wanted." Fagin explained.

"So when will the wedding be?" Aputi asked. Jack smiled.

In the back of the tavern a man watched. He had become used to watching having done it many times over the last few months. He knew they would screw him over. Fagin had always put Dodger before any of them and now they were pinning a murder on him. Monks knew in that moment exactly how to hurt them all.

@afalls14universe @fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @mydeputyghostwagon

[lostfirefly]

WIP

Thank you for the tag @be-not-afraid-gg for Wip-Wednesday. Let it be Wip-Friday :)

Most works do not yet have a title, and the draft may be slightly rewritten.

Welcome under the cut!

Buggy x Reader

Buggy got sick

Reader: Could you please stop whining, Buggy! You're driving me crazy already, otherwise I'll pour soup into your bed

2. Draft name "In the morning - Reader" (another attempt to write nsfw, hehe)

3. Daddy Buggy!

He and the reader have a daughter who brings her boyfriend to the ship to meet her father.

-Why is he holding her hand? -Jesus, Buggy. She's 18! -And what? That doesn't give him the right to hold her hand!

4. Sad Buggy (reader decided to leave him).

I love you, my silly clown, but I want to make you sad :)

5. Buggy is looking for a reader (this idea came to me into the dream, where I was kidnapped and Jeff was looking for me).

6. Reader's birthday!

7. Buggy's birthday

8. Buggy is trying to safe a reader (another dream where Jeff almost asked Avengers to help him. haha)

Buggy Bear x Cathie-pie

The bowling fic (it will be posted soon) - long fic, about 5000 words

Buggy screwed up and Catherine demanded to take her to the bowling club

"What? Afraid I’ll ruin you? You chickened out?" Buggy cackled.  "I never chicken out, you brute. How many points do we play for?” She crossed her arms.

2. After the airport (nsfw)

Catherine decided to stay in Cairo because she understood that she fell in love with Buggy. Now you will see what I see in my head after chapter 10 of my original Egyptian series :) First sex, Buggy is confused and overthinking.

"Oh fuck!" Catherine quickly pulled out some tissues and wiped her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. "My silly clown."  "I'm listening, my Cathie-pie." Buggy placed his chin on the top of her head.  "Take me home, please."

3. After the prison (fun).

Catherine takes Buggy, Cabaji and Mohji from the prison they ended up in after drinking and forces all three of them to clean their apartment.

"In my defense, I stole the cake for you, baby." He chuckled. “But this nice lady took it away.” He nodded towards the officer.  “Oh, thank you! You stole the fucking cake for me. You are so caring! Should this make me feel better, idiot?” 

4. Catherine is sad, because today is her parents' death anniversary (angst + fluff).

Buggy decided to stay with her to cheer her up

"Do you regret anything in life? For example, that you once didn’t leave one red-haired girl in the desert and in the end she stayed with you?" “No, I don’t regret this at all.” Buggy was silent for about five minutes, stroking her back. "Swimming." 

5. Catherine will help him with makeup (pure fluff and fun).

Catherine happily bounced her feet, squealed softly, and dipped the brush into the powder. Sticking out her tongue, she ran the brush over his face with concentration.  "That's it... Yes? Look!"  "Oh my god!" Buggy looked at himself in the mirror and saw his face covered in a thick layer of white powder. "What is it? Cotton candy, let me ask you, how old were you when you were wearing makeup?" 

6. One day or another he is gonna ask her the main question (this fic was written a long time ago). After the story with Larnie our blue-haired boy put this idea aside.

7. They are gonna meet her aunt (two chapters)

8. And they will also assemble the bed!

9. Buggy b-day

10. Their first date (after nsfw)

11. Catherine will meet Cabaji for the first time

12. Catherine will visit Buggy's show for the first time

There's a good chance we'll celebrate Buggy's birthday twice! With the reader and Catherine.

Also I want to try to write a fic, which was inspired by our text messages with @gingernut1314.

Sanji x Reader (pure fluff) are cooking dinner

No pressure tags: @tiredemomama and @operationroots

[ghostbandxyou]

Ghost at the zoo

(years ago when I went to Disneyland on my birthday and did a post about the ghouls at Disneyland well I'm doing it again because I went to the zoo this year and I was Inspired)

(based on the San Deigo Zoo)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aether-

accidentally breaks the glass for one of the venomous snake enclosures, panics, and tries to fix it with chewing gum and band-aids before booking it to the other side of the zoo (luckily the snake is asleep and the keepers see it before it escapes)

Dew teases him by the monkeys calling him banana boy, he then subsequently punches Dew in the stomach.

Makes bad dad jokes all day especially fond of "that's a weird looking _" when a keeper is in an exhibit, and telling the baboons to stop monkeying around.

Dew -

Gets attacked by a flock of birds in the aviary. it really ruffles his feathers (I am not good at joke)

Despite repeated warnings, he sticks his fingers into an exhibit and gets bitten by a small monkey.

flirts with one of the keepers in the reptile section and gets to feed a dead rat to a snake. (and a kiss......from the keeper, not the snake!)

Rain-

Takes a dip in the polar bear enclosure by some miracle he doesn't get caught or eaten.

Ather finds him later in a heated argument with a turtle. Ather then realizes Rain can talk to fish and other aquatic creatures (which explains the hours he spends in front of this fish tank at home).

consumes an ungodly amount of lemonade

Mountain-

gets swarmed by birds at the aviary and ends up like those old ladies in Central park covered in birds except he's not feeding them they're just chilling

plays tag with the other ghouls in the kid's area (and like 20 kids it gets wild) until he almost knocks out a toddler. (he's super apologetic and the parents are understanding) Later he reaches down into one of the exhibits with his long ass arms and grabs a kid's stuffed tiger returning it safely (and all was right in the world)

Accidentally spends the night in the zoo after falling asleep in the bushes. Has to hop some fences and climb a few trees to get out.

Swiss-

A terror at the zoo. The zoo has a record number of incident reports involving a strange smiling masked man?.. entity?

A thief steals a bunch of souvenir magnets, gets a sloth backpack and fills it with snacks he stole from unattended strollers in the park, and steals a certain staff member's keys at least 3 times for shits and giggles. (it only occurs to him on the way home the things he could have done with those keys)

(TW: vomit ) Gets a tummy ache from eating too much cotton candy and vomits In an empty stroller.......well, he's 90% sure it was empty.

Cirrus-

Has a cute little butterfly land on her, eats it

Buys a red panda hat at the store, and refuses to take it off for a week

Waits in line for almost 2 hours to feed the giraffe. She gets so excited she nearly drops the lettuce. Cumulus takes a million pictures for her

Cumulus-

Spends most of the day trying to figure out the zoo map with imperator

Attempts to get group photos with all of the cool statues to various amounts of success

Shares some cotton candy with an orangutan. Gets caught by a keeper but she weasels her way out of it (scares the living shit out of the poor employee)

Sunshine-

LOTS of excited squealing and hops of joy! (and potentially autism) It's her first time ever going to the zoo, and she enjoys every second.

Especially into the skyfari. (although Aether did have to hold her hand the first time)

Takes pictures of all the animals with funny snap chat filters the ghouletts huddle at the back of the bus and giggle looking through them on the ride home

Nihil-

A MENACE! scaring poor old ladies in the bathroom, using his noncorporal form to walk into exhibits, giggling about seeing the animal's naughty bits, and accosting random teens asking if they heard his song on the TikTok.

Imperator-

Spends most of the day hopelessly lost with cumulus and getting the ghouls out of trouble.

Let's go of Nihil's wheelchair while going downhill after he makes a fourth joke about the lion's penis.

manages to enjoy as few quiet moments in the aviary watching the birds before being disturbed by Dew's screeching.

Primo , Secondo, Terzo-

Supposed to be dead so they all don awful disguises and pretend to be a group of grannies. (Terzo's idea of course)

spend most of the day bickering with each other like children.

(TW: sad) Copia -

Follows Imperator and Nihil around the zoo like an obedient puppy.

Actually really excited to be there but keeps up the mask to maintain appearances and appease Imperator.

Does get a picture with the capybara

[two-dense]

Any 2doc headcanons you have? Could be soft, NSFW, etc. I just think they’re a very underrated/overlooked pairing~

I'll go down the list as I think of them.

Soft:

Murdoc has severe PTSD from his abusive upbringing and often has horrific nightmares. Sometimes 2D will wake in the night to find Murdoc crying in his sleep, and gently awaken him by holding him and soothing him, reassuring him endlessly that the lunch lady, his father, the bullies, etc will not hurt him anymore and that he was far away from all of them now.

Murdoc tries his best to be a good father figure/role model for Noodle because "While I got a rotten father, I have the option to not be so rotten to her," and is extremely protective over her and makes sure to double check with her to make sure she is comfortable before doing anything with the band. Sometimes he doubts he's doing a good job and goes to 2D for reassurance.

When 2D isn't around to sleep in Murdoc's bed at night, Murdoc sleeps with a stuffed bear that 2D won in an arcade and promptly stole from him. Murdoc isn't aware that 2D knows that's what he did with it.

NSFW:

Murdoc hates topping and prefers 2D to top. Half because he doesn't want to cut his nails, half because 2D is the only one he entrusts his body to that degree.

Contrary to what some people might think, I don't think Murdoc would be into hardcore BDSM/degradation/kinky shit. Sure he might dabble in it from time to time for that extra bit of release, but I think he really is more into the tender, intimate, vanilla side of sex. Sort of a "freak in the streets, good boy in the sheets" situation.

Murdoc prefers his Egyptian silk bedding as opposed to cotton, nylon, polyester, etc because he is very self conscious about his hair and knows that silk is the best for hair maintenance/care. He got 2D to like silk after making him go Toes-To-Jesus™ in one of his only instances of topping (which almost resulted in 2D needing to replace the sheets for him because he ruined them).

[bearcina]

2023 Year of the OTP: January, Mission Fic!

How To Solve a Murder

An ADA/Female Captain piece set during the "Murder on Eridanos" DLC!

Rated E, due to the nature of the game

Spoilers for Murder on Eridanos!!

"Will I be allowed access to the evidence, Captain?" ADA asked with a smirk. Her imagination had been running wild with the few pieces she had received. "I admit, I have been very curious to know the details." She propped herself up on an elbow and pulled the fluffy black blanket across her chest.

Ophelia sighed, and her cold heart cracked a little… That was her blanket, from her hammock back on Earth. ADA looked delightful in her new bed with it, laid out like a goddess.

"ADA, why don't you come down to the Penthouse with me? I mean, I've been on the Eridanos case for two weeks now, and you've just been here on the ship." Ophelia anxiously offered the android nestled in her favorite blanket. Her eyebrow twitched, watching the cocky AI leisurely stretch and roll over to face her.

ADA hummed noncommittally at her captain. She didn't like leaving the ship, but was intrigued by the murder her captain was investigating. Alas, the captain had not wanted to share any details on the ship, and would not speak of it over a transmission.

"Will I be allowed access to the evidence, Captain?" ADA asked with a smirk. Her imagination had been running wild with the few pieces she had received. "I admit, I have been very curious to know the details." She propped herself up on an elbow and pulled the fluffy black blanket across her chest.

Ophelia sighed, and her cold heart cracked a little… That was her blanket, from her hammock back on Earth. ADA looked delightful in her new bed with it, laid out like a goddess.

"I could use your insight on this one, it's not adding up right." Ophelia confessed, blushing. She wasn't quite smart enough to do it her favorite way, the way she had always done it, alone.

ADA hummed again, and shut her bright eyes for a moment. Her curiosity clawed at her motherboard, telling her to give in and sate her desire. A plasma weapon. Missing guns. A dead celebrity…

She opened her eyes again, and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed automatically.

"I will go." ADA declared, and smiled. "But only if you tell me all the details."

Ophelia nodded, her smile widening.

"Great! Just put this on and we'll be on our way. You'll need to look elegant to accompany me to the top." Ophelia said. She reached into her bag and procured a clean vest-suit, and deposited it into ADA's lap.

Black pants, black shirt, blood red vest.

ADA looked up at her quizzically. She delicately unfolded the clothes after a while, and found them to be almost the correct size, just a little loose.

"Captain... Where did you... Procure... This outfit?" ADA asked slowly, looking it over for stains. Hoping there was no blood.

"Ah... I stole it… One of the ladies that had come with Odeon was an ex-nav android reprogrammed to act. But ah, she didn't keep a good eye on her wardrobe. She had suitcases and suitcases of costumes and clothes, so I helped myself." Ophelia shamefully babbled. "I don't think one outfit will get missed too bad." She fished around in her bag again, and pulled out a matching bow for the outfit.

ADA nodded after a moment of processing. She didn't have any qualms with wearing stolen clothes, only ones taken off bodies. The vest was shiny, soft silk-ish fabric, the shirt and pants both synthetic-cotton. It was Byzantine quality, and seemed to be hand-tailored.

"You'll need to look nice, and you'll need to blend in." Ophelia nervously started to away from side to side, a cold sweat breaking out on her neck. "Which means, I'll need you to act like my partner, so I can get you around without questions." She stammered and looked away.

ADA still hasn't said anything, the gears turning in her head.

She just had to dress nice and pretend.

"I can comply with that, captain. I will pack a bag and join you in the cockpit soon." ADA said, and shooed off the captain to prepare.

ADA emerged from the captains quarters in her new outfit, her hair styled, and bow tied.

"Captain, I am ready to leave." She said, and put her hands on her hips. Ophelia perked up, and quickly started to fluster.

"Let's not waste any time, then." Ophelia replied.

ADA looked gorgeous under the Eridanos light as they meandered from the ship to the hotel, the silk-ish fabric shimmered and highlighted all her curves.

Ophelia didn't feel special standing there with her android in the Grand Colonial hotel lobby. In fact, she thought ADA was the star of the room when they glided into the room.

The captain had to stop and make pleasant chit-chat with many others in the lobby, getting pulled aside and distracted at every unguarded opportunity. She talked to bellhops, the front desk staff, made a detour to check in on the kitchens, glided up the steps and to other rooms…. It was like she had to check on everything before going to the elevator.

ADA was getting impatient the longer she had to walk arm-in-arm with the captain-turned-inspector.

"This is my dearest ADA, but don't worry about her… I had something to ask you…" Ophelia would say as she grabbed the attention of the people in her path.

ADA didn't understand what the captain was doing. She had not mentioned a word of her plans, just linked their arms with a wink and was off.

The android had started to daydream, losing interest in the idle chatter around her. However, she was called back by an unexpected question.

Ophelia had nudged her side subtly, and went for the throat.

"So, where were you the night Miss Bellamy died?" Ophelia asked, surprising the android. The bellhop sputtered and stuttered for a few minutes before spilling his story on the night. ADA couldn't believe her occular processors, Ophelia had to only twitch a few muscles to make the suspect spill.

The inspector nodded after a few moments, smiled, and pulled ADA away from the stunned bellhop to board the elevator at last.

"Penthouse, please."

"Alright ADA, why don't you go ahead and set your stuff down while I scrounge up a bite for me to eat." Ophelia said, ushering her android down the short hall and into the main room. "You can go set your stuff in the bedchambers off to the right there." She pointed to the open door behind the mini-bar. ADA nodded and shuffled off to unpack her meagre bag.

Ophelia uncorked a bottle of Spectrum Brown and poured herself a shot, tossed it back, and started digging under the bar for a quick meal. All she had was a bunch of purpleberry lunches, a few slices of bred, and a single nanner. She had to find something better than crackers, nuts, sad fruit and an even saddder slice of squished bred. She still ate it all like it was the last thing she'd ever eat.

Once she stuffed her mouth at the bar, Ophelia tapped on the bedroom door and called out, "Alright, let me show you the evidence and my ideas board."

ADA opened the door after a moment, and nodded in agreement.

"I am eager to see it, captain." She was very eager.

Ophelia led her across the suite to her drawing board, and gestured vaguely at it all.

"This is what I've got." She declared, "Plasma weapon, missing gun, a tampered automech, and poisoned food... All stuff from inside the hotel, but I found endless footprints and clues outside, fresh enough I could follow." Ophelia pulled photos from her breast pocket and pinned them up in the web.

ADA hummed and started inspecting the photos and notes.

"I've already grilled the suspects and examined the Burbage unit, and I retrieved the security footage for the kitchens, if you think you'll need to see it." Ophelia paced back and forth in front of her mess. She then sat on the table to get a full view again. The gears were turning in her head, but she wasn't getting anywherem.

The night was young, she still had time to decide.

"ADA!" Ophelia yelled, bursting out of the elevator, "There's been more murders! The constable, and Doctor Blossom were both hunted down while I was out!"

ADA staggered out from the bedchamber, eyes dim and full of sleep. It was midnight. She blinked at her captain in a daze.

Ophelia dashed to the makeshift office faster than ADA could process.

"I've got to solve this!" Ophelia yelped, grabbing her hair. "It's not adding up!"

ADA slowly padded her way to the captains side and yawned.

"Captain, I have a few ideas..."

Ophelia frowned as she jabbed the buttons to call Ludovico. Something was still nagging her, but everything had been airtight.

The Prophet tried to kill Helen with poison.

Woolrich poisoned her meal.

Woolrich made Burbage 3001 fatally shoot Helen while she was down.

It still made no sense.

"Lou, I've got your murderer..." She greeted. Right to the point.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2019 Tammy left a message at around 3 a.m. her time on our group letting me know she’s been admitted to the hospital for her sarcoidosis. She also has a mystery infection.

40 minutes after I spotted the message, I called her. She sounded terrible. Her voice was raspy and very low-pitched, almost like a guy.

I let her know I’d be around through the night but haven’t heard back from her as to what’s going on. She said her pulmonologist was to be visiting her in the morning. They have her on IVs. She’s being given antibiotics as well as steroids. She started the kidney medication but doesn’t know if it’s going to help yet. Hopefully, they now know the exact location of her infection.

They’re having this limited edition of cotton candy-flavored grapes at Sam’s and they really do taste like cotton candy, as strange as it sounds. It’s a very mild flavor but definitely noticeable.

Couldn’t wait to polish my nails, better or not, so I polished them pink and then with the blue crackle polish I just got. Missed that stuff!

I’m back on Amazon. Wasn’t getting anywhere with Kobo who doesn’t make it easy at all to unpublish your stuff, so I contacted them. I told them I was going to have a professional editor tackle my books when in fact I’m probably not going to use them anymore. I also don’t like how you have to accumulate so much money before they pay you. On Amazon, you get paid for everything you sell each month no matter what you make. There’s no quota you have to meet. I also like how they’ve made publishing easier.

The question is whether or not they’re still ripping some of their unknown authors off. Aly will answer that question soon enough because there are a few titles she’s interested in. Really appreciate her support!

I’m also back on Duolingo. With my memory issues, I’m not learning any new languages right now. Besides, there really isn’t anything I care to learn at the moment. However, I reset the 5 courses that I’ve completed there and am rotating between them just for fun and to keep things fresh in my mind.

We had a fun and unexpected storm. It’s a good thing I was up before it started because I heard the loudest thunderclap since Arizona! The windows rattled in their sills. It started raining when we headed for Rite Aid and I loved it because it kept traffic on the ground and in the sky quiet. The storm is over now so I’ve got my earbud in so I don’t have to listen to the commercial planes until after midnight. The small planes are enough.

I hate that it’s going to get down into the forties tonight! We might actually need to start running the heat in the early mornings.

Anyway, I wanted to pick up some Merlot and we both wanted treats, so off we went to Rite Aid. As the lady at the register was ringing us up, a couple of black people briskly walked out with some booze they stole. The woman reported it to her manager, saying they looked familiar.

Tom later told me he knew they were going to steal something, but I didn’t see them until they were exiting. He also said they were underaged.

This is the Rite Aid where an old lady that lived here got killed, also by a black person. The thug ripped something off and knocked her down on the way out, and because she was old and frail, the fall ended up killing her.

You know, people don’t usually come up with labels out of the blue for no reason. No, they’re not all thugs but many are. So if they’re really as bothered by the way people perceive them as they claim to be, maybe they oughta think before they act. Sometimes our labels really are earned and deserved.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2019 Decided I’m not going to title entries when it isn’t necessary. The only place I write on that requires titles is PB. Instead of copying from blogs to Word, I’ll just drop each entry into it from Google Docs.

To suddenly list the “okay” hand signal as a hate signal is utterly fucking ridiculous. What’s not going to be okay next that’s been okay for centuries? Hate living in a world full of pussies where everything is oh-so offensive. When they decide that wearing pink is a hate sign, they can go fuck themselves!

Turned out to be a quiet night last night and so far tonight. Can’t even hear the freeway. The wind must have shifted. The only thing I heard after midnight was a small plane playing the circle game.

I’m Amazed to say I slept through trash and recyclables pickup, but glad I did and that I’m feeling more refreshed today. Went on a quick 15-minute walk while there was still enough light to keep the skunks away. No loose German Shepherd or other dogs. Doing my strength training and stretching exercises, as well as sprinting bursts that will total 10-15 minutes, giving me about a half-hour of cardio.

Lost the other pound I gained, and my hips feel great today. Just a little light-headed.

Requested a refill on my poison and if they don’t have Sandoz, we’ll go elsewhere. Still feeling calm and loving that I’m just about 9 days from menopause! :-)

Hate the eyeshadow guards I got that you stick on your face. They’re way too sticky and it hurt to pull them off of the delicate skin under my eye. Plus, they’re kind of wide, so one end sticks to the hair by my temple.

Again I saw the gold SUV at Ralph’s place and heard some hammering. We really can’t go long without doing something around here, can we? However, I can’t swear that the hammering was coming from there. It probably was but I don’t know for sure.

Tom is still waiting for Google to approve his app and has already begun the next one.

Looking forward to the newest season of Law & Order SVU.

I’m not worried about it because it didn’t leave me with that ominous feeling that dream premonitions sometimes leave me with, but I had a dream I was told by a doctor to get an MRI. I don’t know why, though.

I swear I have a faint reddish stripe forming on my thumb and that my nails, for the most part, aren’t getting better. That’s okay, I’m not going to anyone other than the eye doctor until March!

The pre-cancerous spot on my back that she sprayed did something weird. A small raised patch of dry skin like a scab formed over it but I was able to scratch it off. Didn’t even bleed. I’m just surprised that after all this time It would do that. Shortly after she sprayed it, it went flat and became pretty invisible.

As I was lying on a gurney in the hall of the hospital waiting to be wheeled into a room somewhere in another dream, a healthcare worker came up and started massaging my feet which I could feel a little through my shoes.

“Feel good?” she asked.

I said yes and wished I didn’t have shoes on.

In the last dream, I remember well enough to put into words, Tom and I had just moved into some house somewhere and the bedroom had a very odd design. The walls were at odd angles, but it was a large room that I seemed excited to set up. I decided on what wall to place the bed on because I didn’t want to block the floor heater that ran along one wall which is common in the Northeast.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2019 Because no one’s been staying there at night, I’m thinking Ralph’s house went to a flipper. Saw that gold SUV parked there earlier and heard the whirring of a saw that definitely wasn’t in back or coming from next door.

Woke up surprisingly tired even though I slept well. As expected, my hips are stiff and sore so I’m going to take today off. I still don’t have to exercise every single day. 4-5 days a week is enough.

Today’s sounds in the circus called Lakeview…Santa’s dog and someone running and gunning a motorcycle before they turned it off completely. Don’t know that the motorcycle was in the park, but it was probably down the street by Dixie. Some people just love attention. rolls eyes

No planes yet, but it’s after 8 so they should soon be a noticeable nuisance until after midnight.

As my thyroid levels go up, I find myself getting warm easily, especially in this hot weather. But when I’m low on thyroid, I’m horribly cold and tired. It seems I have to be either too warm or too cold. At least it hasn’t caused me to be anxious…yet.

Kobo confirmed I wasn’t doing anything wrong when I asked why I haven’t gotten any sales and they said it appeared that my covers weren’t professionally designed, and gave me a link to a designer and a marketing company. What’s the point of being self-published if you’ve got to go through all these agencies that are going to cost you a shitload of money with no guarantees in the end? And how does Kobo know my covers aren’t professionally designed? By their file name or something? Something in their appearance? I thought most of them looked quite professional but again, it doesn’t matter if something isn’t meant to be. I don’t know if it’s by design or by happenstance, but I really do have a feeling it isn’t meant to be. It seems that whether it’s something simple or far out, no matter how good I may get at it and no matter how much I may deserve it, I’m just not one of those who’s meant to realize her dreams. This used to bother me a lot when I was younger, but now that I’m older, I’m okay with this “fate,” “plan” or whatever it is because there’s more to life than making money and I still enjoy writing regardless. Writing is very competitive and a very black-and-white world where you either don’t make shit or you get rich and famous, and I definitely don’t want fame.

I’m still going to take Tom up on his suggestion and do more research on self-publishing companies before we consider spending money promoting me to see what the best money-making places are. Even though Amazon was ripping me and many other authors off, there were some sales there. Still, it’s too much of a gamble and we could use our money for more important things. I’m not going to be an author and that’s okay.

Okay, it’s great that my running shorts are already looser, and I lost one of the two pounds I gained, but I’m DONE for nighttime walking. Right as I was rounding the corner heading toward the office, that fucking German Shepherd was walking around the parking lot. I don’t know if it’s a stray or if someone just lets it run loose but it’s somehow getting into the park. There must be a gap in the fence somewhere. I hate to think it’s a service dog living in the park and the owner is letting it run around loose, but anything is possible. This is the second or third time I’ve seen the damn thing. It’s probably harmless, as by now I would think it would have been caught and put down if it wasn’t, but I don’t feel comfortable with a dog nearly as big as me running around. I didn’t come here for that shit. I’d rather just go out in the daytime when I can and have to listen to landscaping and people’s dogs barking at me when I jog by.

Anyway, I turned and walked away briskly, trying to remain calm and not run, knowing they can sense fear. Once I got around the bend, I ran most of the way home. So yeah, you could say I met my exercise goal for the day. Ended up doing about 15 minutes of running over 4 MPH, plus about 10 of walking, and then I did some strength training and stretching exercises.

No cardio for me today but I think I’ll do some upper body work, after all, even if I’m naturally strong while not naturally thin.

Found Aly’s newest account on Twitter, although it’s an account she’s actually had for a while but deactivated. She calls it her writing account. I’m a little surprised she hasn’t blocked me from it.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2019 I was last anxious on the 26th of last month, so any time now it’s going to return. Sandoz makes me better but not perfect. So far, 4-8 weeks is as long as I can go taking a full dose daily without issue. I would be truly surprised and delighted if I made it past the end of next month without being anxious, but I know that’s just a dream. No problem, though. I’ll just cut my dose back till I get close to my next round of labs. I got this now. Yes, I really do. :) :) :)

Poor Dixie and Diane. Dixie said Diane fell at her program yesterday morning on her face, had to go to the ER for X-rays of her face and upper body, and the doctor was adamant about her “boarding” Diane, saying that one person can’t care for her. Dixie is obviously heartbroken, although she knew this day would come. Sadly, it makes sense since Dixie’s really getting on in age and barely able to remember things and how to take care of her own self.

I hate to think of how horribly lonely she’d be without Diane. I feel so bad for her and I worry for her for the same reasons I worry about us getting old and to the point where we can’t be self-sufficient. Dixie and I both know all too well that the places that take people like Diane, as well as nursing homes, can often be abusive. There’s always at least one person there who’s going to treat the residents like they’re a burden instead of people who need help living their day-to-day lives. There is a Donna A in all these places and that one Donna A can make the dozen Michelle Ss seem pretty powerless. That was the math teacher that took my roommate Denise in and almost took me in as well before my bitch of a mother decided to give me the privilege of letting me come home.

Almost done watching the Simone Biles story on Hulu and it’s pretty inspiring. Not to get into gymnastics, of course, but just to get back in better shape. When I went out last night, my little red running shorts were tighter than ever, and I felt a bit breathless and out of shape. Too many days off really makes a difference, so energetic or not, I’ve got to make a point of being more consistent. I can build my stamina back up and lose the 2 lbs. I gained quickly and easily enough. Can’t lose any more than that, but I can certainly lose inches and get myself in better shape and that’s what I intend to do. I’ve put together a strict regimen, but I’ve spaced it out in a way that won’t seem so overwhelming. This means sprinting on the treadmill for 1 minute every half hour, walking for at least a half-hour be it indoors, on the treadmill, or a mix of both, and then alternating between a half a dozen or so Bowflex exercises every other day.

Even brushing my teeth means not standing still. No reason I can’t do some squats and leg raises while brushing. I get that I’m in pretty good shape for one who’s almost 54 and wouldn’t be considered heavy by most people, but that doesn’t matter. The point is that this is good for anyone to do and I know it will make me feel better. :) So just a little cushy or not, I’m determined to be more active. I just may have to ease into this routine over the next few days rather than jump right in if I don’t want my hips to be killing me. I still have some joint issues to consider.

Tom is working from home this evening, but probably not for long.

Finally, a detailed dream I remember. I was able to keep a schedule and therefore a job as well. I work second shift, though I don’t know what I did. One of my coworkers was Margaret M from Valleyhead of all people. I hated her. She was a mean evil witch like her sister Donna. Yet Margaret was sweet and kind to me in the dream. I ended up going to her place after work one night. Since it was late, I expected the others she lived with to be in bed and for us to have to be as quiet as possible. But the large house was lit up with several people milling about as she went to fix us sandwiches. After that, she offered me a watermelon-flavored drink and I said I’d love to try it since I usually stuck to the same boring brand to save money or something like that.

Then she disappeared to talk to some others and left me searching the various cans of drinks that were sitting on the table and countertops in search of the one that was for me. I couldn’t find anything, so I had to ask her about it.

I also asked what time she was planning to get up in the morning. She said she was “ahead of schedule” and would sleep until 7.

“Then once we’re awake enough, you’ll drive me home since I don’t have money for a cab?” I asked her.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, even though I could have used my card to pay for an Uber or something.

Then I went upstairs where it was quieter, realizing I should call Tom and let him know where I was so he wouldn’t worry about me. I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice that I hadn’t gotten in if he crashed earlier but realized he would definitely be worried if he didn’t see me in the morning. So, I pulled out my phone which didn’t look anything like my phone and it began “warming up” and searching for contacts.

Then I had some vague dream about sleeping in a large bed with Kim and Aly in a large room, although I don’t know where we were. Aly was in the middle. Kim and I both had sound machines running, each playing a different nature sound, while Aly remembered that she had to go give some paper to someone in an office (in a hotel?).

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2019 Waiting until 9 when it should be cooler to go out walking. It was a hot day of 99°. This should be the grand finale of the heat, though.

My dentist appointment went well. Just a little plaque build-up along the lower gum line, so I’ll be sure to start flossing more. Also, they’re not selling my special fluoride toothpaste anymore because I can get it cheaper online.

On the way out, that white van was working in front of Lawrence’s again, but I never heard anything inside our house and it was gone when we got back.

Whoever bought Ralph’s house has a large dark blue SUV, but it must not be too loud because I saw it parked there when we got in, then noticed it was gone later on and that I hadn’t heard anything loud go by.

Wish we could move where Holly lives! She’s not in an adult community but it’s a gated community and super quiet. Probably not manufactured homes either. No loud sounds are allowed on Sundays. There are no planes or anything there. She just hears a coyote howling every now and then. I don’t think she’s in the city, though. More like a small town like Auburn. She said it was almost too quiet when she first moved there and it took time to get used to but now she can’t imagine it any other way. I personally can’t imagine living anywhere quiet. This is definitely what I’m used to.

The planes were annoying last night but not tonight, which I’m guessing may have something to do with the heat.

We stopped at Jack-in-the-Box on the way home and I got some chicken strips.

Aside from whenever we get around to getting our eyes examined, it’s great to be appointment-free for half a year! I couldn’t make my next appointment the same day I see Dr. A, but I was able to get it for the next day.

A little later…

Wasn’t out long. Too warm. Damn, though! My red shorts are tighter than ever. I’ve got to be more consistent with working out regardless of energy levels and temps after today. Can’t wait to get my new PC, whatever it will be, but I’ll just have to deal with unplugging and replugging my Macbook Air whenever I work out indoors until then. Might even resume the Bowflex too. My muscles stay when I get lazy but any lost inches don’t. No more rice either. Fast food may not help but the Chinese rice I sometimes get from Sam’s is bad for fatties.

Forgot to mention that Tom and Holly talked about our electric car. Guess she’s interested in switching over too, so she was curious about milage and range and all that.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2019 Tammy hasn’t checked in on Facebook or my last group post and I’m hoping nothing’s wrong. Hopefully, she just has a lot going on. Even more so, I hope she began the medication without any problems and that it’s helping to reverse her kidney issues.

Talked about it with Tom who is amazingly supportive and decided that if Tammy does go before I do, and I would think so since she’s not only older but unhealthy, I’m going to make whatever plausible excuse I can come up with not to go to the funeral. This is for a few reasons. First of all, I can’t even guarantee I’ll be able to go. There’s only so much control I have over my schedule. Most importantly, I don’t want to see her narcissistic brats. And besides, if she’s dead she isn’t going to know it, and if she lives on somehow, then she’s not there; only her body is.

I found a couple of accounts of Paula’s on Facebook. One I’m sure is hers and the other probably is. It’s funny because the one where she shows herself, she’s listed as being a nurse’s aide. Yeah right. She may be incredibly dumb, but if she could shut her trap long enough to listen, she definitely could do menial tasks that were simple and didn’t require a lot of thinking. She can keep a schedule. Can’t see her as a nurse’s aide, though, so that’s probably something she just made up.

I let her know just what I thought of her for dumping me despite all I did for her for so many years, not that she’ll ever see the messages. These accounts haven’t been used in years.

I decided that since I’m having this horrible writer’s block despite my wonderful writing tools, I would take my other PB account and share Roomies there which is basically a continuous story with no real beginning, middle or end as it’s told through the main character’s journal. They reminisce about the past, as well as the present and future, so there’s no real “story” other than the experiences they write about.

Dixie’s niece from Hawaii visited her and they had a good time. I won’t be seeing her this week because of the railing installment.

Tomorrow I get my teeth cleaned and hope I don’t have any cavities or anything, and I don’t think I do. I just have to remember to get more of the fluoride paste. I’m also going to try to schedule my next cleaning the same day I see Dr. A so Tom only has to take one day off for both appointments.

I decided to block Molly on Twitter since I’m using my main account again to tweet pics when I wake up because I simply don’t want to hear from her. She must not check my account as much as I thought she did because she hasn’t mentioned being blocked. Maybe she doesn’t follow me as much as I thought and maybe those Texas hits on my tracker weren’t her, even though it’s pretty likely that it was. Texas is a big state, though, so as unlikely as It is, just maybe she really has moved on and doesn’t even think of me. After all, the comment she left on Aly’s reply to me would have been flagged in her home feed. Maybe that’s the only reason she responded then was because I was practically right in front of her face. Or maybe she just won’t admit in a tweet that I blocked her, not that she can’t see my tweets if she logs out.

We decided to make a day trip of our San Francisco getaway rather than overnight since it would save a lot of money if we didn’t stay at a hotel, though we don’t yet know when. I hate motels and hotels anyway. Too noisy. And then I have to try to sleep through his snoring and all that, so it’s not worth it unless we were going out of state for a longer period.

It should only take us about three hours to get there, counting the times we have to stop and charge the car, then we’ll spend about three hours on the island, and then another three working our way back home.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2019 Watching Two Sentence Horror Stories on Netflix and it’s pretty good. Like most series these days, there are only a few episodes and just one season, but it’s a US show and interesting so far. Couldn’t get into Quicksand or Elementary on Hulu, which is what Tom’s watching. I need a break from the crime docs because they’re not only depressing but I get tired of so many violent criminals getting off with barely a slap on the wrist while I lost half a year of life and thousands of dollars for nothing.

I absolutely love the ease of having short hair, although I think most people wouldn’t exactly consider it short but more like shoulder-length. Barely shoulder-length, anyway. Before it was cut it was creeping just past my shoulders. Do I think it looks better than long hair on me? I don’t know. I think style matters more than length, but even if it looked horrible, comfort is my thing these days as opposed to looks. If it wasn’t, I’d be starving myself silly.

This flu shot went over easier than expected. The soreness in my arm only lasted a few hours and I didn’t wake up with extreme fatigue the next day.

I am kind of tired today even though I slept a long time last night. I’m now getting to the point where my sleep is going to be hit or miss. It’s been a surprisingly quiet day today, although not as quiet as some other places I’ve lived, of course. Tomorrow it’s back to the zoo. Lots of landscaping, more loud traffic, planes galore.

Tammy has been on my mind a lot. She said she’ll let me know how the experimental medication goes after she talks to a pharmacist. She’s afraid to start it because of the warnings on it. If it warns you about asthma, then what do you do if you have sarcoidosis which is much worse? She said there are a few different possible cures for sarcoidosis but all of them would kill her, so that’s out of the question, and of course, autoimmune diseases can’t be cured.

Following her health has been sad and scary but definitely educational. I’ve learned a lot more than I ever wanted to learn between both our health problems, but am glad I did. I miss the days when I thought thyroids were just teeny little pea-sized glands at the nape of our necks that only controlled weight and wasn’t the least bit important, LOL. I suspected the problem was my thyroid long before I was diagnosed and put off doctors until it was a little more convenient to get officially diagnosed with a wave of my hand saying, “It’s only a thyroid. No big deal.”

Goes to show how little I knew!

With her kidneys failing and my thyroid half-dead, it has made me all the more grateful for the things that do work. No longer do I take body parts that function well for granted. So I mentally patted my kidneys and liver which I was told work great with a smile on my face thinking, “Good job guys, good job. Keep up the good work!”

Nowadays I want all the details Tammy’s able to give me and then some. I’m arming myself with as much information as I can. As I learned the hard way, what you don’t know really can hurt you. Had I known what I know now about the law, I could have prevented myself from losing thousands of dollars, months of freedom, and a whole lot of grief. Easily.

Had I done my research upfront, I probably could have spared myself from a lot of the medical drama I’ve gone through on account of a finicky medication that has a very fine line between being helpful and hurtful as many Black Box drugs do.

So now I’m determined to do as much homework as I can, even though I’ve never had any interest in legal or medical stuff. Never wanted to be a lawyer. Never wanted to be a nurse or a doctor. But if I should ever be as unfortunate as to have my own kidney issues in the future, at least this will jump-start me on what I should know. As one who loves to learn things anyway, I’m determined to study various diseases and illnesses one body part at a time, as time permits. Like I said, who needs medical school when you’ve got the internet? :-)

Forgot to mention my own medication plans and it’s really quite simple. As I told my doctor, I’m back to taking a full dose every day. I’m going to keep doing that until I get anxious again and then drop back to the hypo dose, as I call it, and stay on that most days until 6 weeks before my next lab visit. Then I can bring both my TSH and cholesterol numbers down for the record. I’m hoping not to get anxious this month, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I was sometime next month, even if it was mild.

We went to Petco earlier where I decided to spoil the rats and pigs. I got the rats these fur-lined tubes and everybody got new chew toys. Of course the fur wasn’t real. The pigs got some food as well, but only because we had a coupon. We get the best deals on their food on Amazon and I get rat blocks at Walmart.

Several people have asked if rats and guinea pigs are different. For the most part, yes, very much so. Different habits, different diets, different behavior, different lifespans… Rats are much smarter as well. The only real similarity is that they both have two upper teeth and two lower teeth that are always growing, which is why they chew a lot.

My MacBook Air is getting old, so I definitely need to upgrade to something new, which I’ll do when they start having holiday deals. The question is whether or not I want to stick with Mac or climb back into Windows. I would prefer to stick with a Mac because that’s what I’m used to and that’s safer, but I don’t know that we could afford exactly what I want. My MacBook Air is causing issues with both the monitor it’s connected to and my keyboard. Sometimes I have a hard time waking up my monitor and have to reboot. My wireless keyboard has delays here and there, so I’m now using a wired Windows keyboard that used to be my favorite. When they first came out with flat keys, I hated it because it just felt so weird. Now the raised keys feel weird. But this keyboard is functional until I know what I’m going to do. Can’t use a smaller monitor as I’m blind even with glasses.

Once I do get something new, I can use the MacBook Air for puzzles while I’m on the treadmill. Don’t know if I’m going to get a large laptop for my work computer or a desktop with a larger monitor, but probably the latter at this point. The question is which operating system I’ll go with.

The most important thing is getting as much memory as I can because that’s part of what’s causing my problems with my rapidly aging MacBook Air is lack of memory.

Not much in the way of dreams other than bits and pieces of things that don’t make enough sense to put into words. I just remember a quick dream where Tammy was cooking something. Dad was alive and in the room with us. Tammy was saying she didn’t want to add salt because it wasn’t good for her and I was remembering the days when we were all young/younger and didn’t have to worry so much about ingredients.

Then there was one that I hope doesn’t mean anything though I don’t think it does. Tom and I were in this room somewhere and I think they were doing some kind of medical procedure on me. The lady there was saying something about something in 20 years. My dream self thought that in 20 years I would be 78. I hope it doesn’t mean I’ll need some kind of procedure at 58 since that’s just over 4 years from now! I don’t think it meant anything, though. This dream didn’t leave me with that feeling I get when something does have meaning.

Then I had a fun dream where I was outside somewhere and this super friendly squirrel wanted to be my friend. It kept hopping onto me and climbing all over me. I was afraid to handle it too much, though, not knowing if it would freak out and bite me if I took hold of it.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2019 Tom is setting up his website and I’m going to help him with the creativity part of it since I’m more artistic in that sense. He’s hoping to have his next app out this weekend but there are no guarantees.

I chatted live with Tammy yesterday (until I had to pee) because she hates to type or leave voice messages via phone, Facebook, whatever.

Anyway, it wasn’t good news at all. In a post to my group, she said her health was failing and her kidneys weren’t functioning well. The first thing that came to mind was that strong nagging feeling I’ve had these last 4-5 years about something bad happening to her when she’s 62. I just never knew what or how bad it would be. I don’t get to pick and choose what I sense or dream. If I could, I’d be picking winning lottery numbers for sure.

Since I’m not always by my phone, we played a little phone tag and then finally got to talk, and I’m not sure what to think. Before we spoke, I gave myself a quick crash course on kidney disease. Yeah, who needs medical school when you’ve got the internet these days? What I did learn was that there are stages of kidney disease, 4 being the worst and the point where they put you on dialysis.

I also found a chart that lists the life expectancy by age, gender and GFR. According to a woman her age, you have between 3-18 years. I’m hoping that they will turn things around and that even if she doesn’t exactly make it well past 80, she still has many more years ahead. I read they don’t put you on dialysis until you’ve lost 85% of your kidney function.

I don’t know what to think. She says the doctor says she’s “done,” and she has taken the house off the market but still plans to eventually move. When she said this, it gave me hope that this could be turned around. She really wants to live in the mountains, unlike me who’s had enough of the damn mountains. I want to be in a tropical climate and on flat ground after being inland since 1992 and in mountainous terrain since 2004. The mountains in the West are a lot bigger than in the East, though.

As I said, I don’t know what to think. I just don’t know. I just know that unfortunately, when I have such a vibe, I’m never wrong. That doesn’t mean she’ll be checking out of Hotel Earth anytime soon, though. :) So hopefully the worst this will be is just a serious inconvenience. People with the most horrible prognoses have turned out to beat some pretty amazing odds, so we’ll see.

She has been known to be quite a hypochondriac and I can’t always tell if she’s really in serious trouble or she just feels like she is. God knows I sure thought I was going to die a few times in the past. But there is a big difference between feeling like you’re going to die and actually having one foot in the grave.

It isn’t just her kidneys, though. She has other problems, but she says her heart and arteries are doing well and her sarcoidosis is stable.

Not at all surprisingly, she lectured me about not taking statins, LOL. I knew the medical assistant in her would, and I will consider it sooner or later. She says not to wait too long because of the way heart disease runs wild in the family. My doctor just listened to my heart yesterday and says it sounded good, so I don’t think there’s any imminent danger. I’m much more worried about her right now. I wish I knew more about the situation and what she could expect from it, but I don’t think even she can have any idea of that until they try this special medication. I’m not sure if it’s new or experimental but it isn’t something you can just run to the pharmacist and get. It has to be delivered to you.

Appreciate the fact that she didn’t get into the girls but she might have had we talked longer.

Aly’s dumped her Twitter account again, ironically enough, after I dumped mine. Although she more than likely changed handles trying to lose me than anything else. I should know soon enough. As soon as she and Molly tweet to each other.

Pretty sure Molly looked in on me this morning, which was within 15 minutes of her tweeting about the usual obsessions.

I was discussing with Tom whether or not it would be worth attacking someone who simply threatened us versus actually striking us first. In the past, I would have said that I would only act if I were forced into a fight, but these days I think I would definitely go after anyone who attacked me for sure. I know actions speak louder than words and that threats don’t mean shit without the actions to back them up, but I think that in that case, not doing anything would send the wrong message and actually get myself taken advantage of even more and maybe worse. Plus, with my temper being worse in some ways than in the past, I don’t think I could hold back if I wanted to. So yes, I would definitely pounce. I may get my ass beat but at least the message that would be sent would be that no, I’m not going to just stand there and take it unless you’re safely tucked away somewhere out of reach making your threats by phone/internet or something like that.

I think we went about trying to soundproof the bedroom all wrong. I think we should’ve gotten plain basic king-size foam toppers and hit as much wall space as possible, including the ceiling to dampen the rumbling of planes. They’ve been HORRIBLE. Yesterday it wasn’t just early morning and evening. It was all fucking day long. The foam would look ridiculous, but at least I could sleep better and not have to go about my routine to so much vehicle noise on the ground or in the sky. Soft surfaces absorb sound much better than hard.

Tammy says with the exception of a guy that leaves to work and returns on a motorcycle, it’s still quiet there. Now that I’ve seen that state map and know that you can’t have loud exhausts there in cars and trucks and that landscaping is different there, I can see where it would be more peaceful, if not literally “quiet.” Almost any place has to be better than this place. The second noisiest place I ever lived (the NHA) was comatose compared to this for fuck’s sake.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2019 Written yesterday:

I wish I was deaf, I swear! Was it Landscaping? Nope. Was it traffic? Not really. Just one commercial plane after another after another after another… I can’t believe for the life of me that I’m the only one bothered by this. It’s horrible. Oh, I heard plenty of small planes but they’re easier to drown out. I had the music cranked up, but I could still hear the roar of commercials overhead. I couldn’t stand to sit out in a nice comfy lanai if we had one.

And then I couldn’t help but think of how Becky said she didn’t have noise in Connecticut, and she wasn’t about to have it in New Mexico. That’s so not fair! Why can’t I say that… and be able to get it? I think things will change for her soon enough, though. She doesn’t know Western culture as I do. Give it time and the barking will escalate and then the dirt bikes, hunters, and perhaps sonic booms will enter the picture, too.

I’ll settle for getting off the road, out of a flight path, and into warmer weather (I dread the cooling temps) but this article I read is proof that flight paths can change and yes, they can start flying lower. So it’d be my shit luck to move and get bombarded with planes a few years later. I am so noise-cursed. Just so, so noise cursed!

But WHY??? WHY???

Written today:

My appointment went great! My weight wasn’t up and my BP wasn’t too horribly bad at 140/80. HR was in the 80s. The nurse gave me a flu shot and I refused the usual things like the boob squeeze, butt poker, and statins.

Two hours later my arm was sore from the shot and tomorrow I’ll probably have fatigue, but at least he’ll be here, and I won’t have anything to do. Getting the laundry and all the household and pet chores done today.

Decided to let her take a look at my nails and she does think it’s from excessive nail polish and says even she has to give her own nails a break from polish for a few months every now and then, and recommends I do the same. So boring bare nails it is till the end of the year. I’ll just wear the fake kiddy nails I sometimes get to my dentist appointment because they’re kinda ugly looking.

As expected, she said there wasn’t anything I could do for the ridges. I don’t mind those as much as this discoloration but she’s pretty sure it’s not a fungus or anything to worry about. I figured as much but I wanted to hear it from her. It definitely explains the striped nail dream, though, as I’ve never had this much discoloration before.

Got my hair trimmed a few inches, stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast platters, then at Rite Aid for some Merlot and some treats. I’m in an awesome mood now that this appointment is done and over with. I always hate going to the doctor no matter how many times I’ve been there before and no matter how comfortable I may be with the doctor. Dentists don’t usually bother me, though, as long as they’re not going to do much more than a cleaning. So, after Tuesday’s cleaning with Holly and then an eye exam within the next month or so, I’m appointment-free until March! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Since I’m in a good mood I won’t bitch about all the car stereos we could hear at nearly every light (including the black chick and her own thumping bass while sitting in the parking lot waiting till it was closer to my appointment time), the screaming kids in McDonald’s, or the church next to the salon blasting their own music. Fortunately, that did stop shortly after we got there. Not even going to sweat the 3-hour trash/green waste pickup or the 18-hour plane spree.

Going to enjoy not having to worry about having to get to bed at a certain time. It will be great to sleep as long as I need to. I did beat the alarm, though, so it worked out well. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so traffic shouldn’t be an issue since I’ll probably be up by 8.

Just when I was thinking how nice it’s been not to have Robo or scam calls in a while, I’ve had 4 messageless calls the last couple of days from the San Francisco area.

Dixie tried to call twice yesterday, and I started to wish I hadn’t befriended her if all she’s going to do is pester me. I figured she probably wanted something. Yet when I emailed her later on about it, she said she couldn’t remember why she called, LOL

Again I shut down the Twitter account that was connected to Kim and Aly. I just don’t need it. Plus, it sort of bothered me that Aly blocked it from the account we were never connected on, even though I’ve blocked her before. So one less account to exist that’s been blocked by her. Noticed she’s protected her tweets again too, and I know it’s cuz of me.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2019 Rainstorm is now live and available on Kobo! Next up for publication will be Renting Ginny. Will start editing soon.

Yesterday I felt great, but today I’m feeling a bit lightheaded and sometimes I feel short of breath even though I’m plenty oxygenated enough. Not much energy either. The muscle injury in my leg definitely isn’t 100% healed so I’m taking it easy today. It actually feels a little worse today. I was on my knees rinsing something in the tub and when I went to stand up, ouch!

Tom got to do an hour of OT from the comfort of home (a conference call on Skype). So, more money while he just kicked back, listened and provided input when needed.

Tomorrow I see my PCP. I was just sitting there thinking about what the best day would be to call and reschedule my dental check-up, knowing I wasn’t going to make it on the first, when Holly called having to reschedule anyway, saving me the trouble. Sometimes things really do work out well in life! Seeing her next Tuesday. :-) Then, with the exception of our eye exams, I will be appointment-free for half a year! Yes! It’s about fucking time.

Perhaps it’s mean of me to say so and perhaps I’ve just grown to be a very impatient and intolerant person, but damn am I getting sick of all the motormouths out there that can’t shut up and let others talk, too. I was picking up the mail when Santa spotted me and came across the street to chat. On and on it went. He seems like a nice enough guy, but it just wouldn’t stop and I could barely get a word in edgewise. I had to laugh when Dixie told me that they hit it right off. But how? They both can’t shut up for two seconds so how could they possibly communicate, LOL? I’ve always found people who talk non-stop to be a bit on the selfish side. Everything’s all about, and when they ask you a question occasionally or you do get a word in edgewise, they take your answer and run with it in whatever way it relates to them. It took me three tries before I could get it across to him that I had other things to do and was in a bit of a hurry. It wasn’t just that, but I had a hard time understanding him. He didn’t talk too fast, but he talked softly and was changing subjects rapidly while some fucker was sawing.

I can’t believe how much sawing these old people do here. They really gotta limit this shit. I mean really. Enough is enough! If it’s an emergency, that’s one thing. But I don’t annoy people with my hobbies so it would be nice if I could get the same respect and consideration.

As I told Aly earlier, I’m pretty much done with the emotionally/mentally ill, not that Santa is “ill.” I’ve simply run out of patience and tolerance for their unpredictability. I’m not expecting people to be all fluff and sunshine and I’m not talking about those who get anxious or depressed like we all do at times but those in which their problems affect their behavior in a way that’s not normal or at least very questionable. Anything toxic, destructive or one-sided I can do without! :-) Aly, however, seems drawn to people with problems.

Ralph’s house has sold and if the blue SUV is the one that lives there, it’s kind of loud. Not motorcycle loud but definitely noticeable. You know, you would think that by the time one got in their fifties, they would be over their need for random attention. I thought the need to be heard, noticed and acknowledged was more of a young people thing. I could be wrong, though, as far as what vehicle lives there. I at least think that’s the one I saw deep in the carport and then there was a gold SUV parked behind them that I’m pretty sure belongs to the realtor. No one spent the night last night from what I could see. I just hope they don’t have motorcycles or dogs! Santa’s dogs are annoying enough at times. They bark when they’re being walked and they have a screened-in porch they let them bark from, so I’m glad I’m not further down the street. When they’re not right in front of the window, they’re easy enough to drown out with just the everyday household things I have running like air cleaners and whatnot.

We were surprised by some rain again yesterday, but it is warming back up and drying out.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2019 Yesterday I was a bit light-headed, so I took a lower dose just for today as I ease my way back up to 75. At least this particular side effect does go away. It’s just going to take a few weeks.

My muscle injury is better too, so I was out there walking for about a half-hour. I did a light jog but only for a few minutes because I didn’t want to aggravate my leg. I want it to heal completely before I pick up speed.

Dixie’s bugging me to stop by even though she just saw me the other day. I like her and all that, but I do get tired of her chatting non-stop and not allowing me a word in edgewise. Even so, I offered to come down before Diane leaves tomorrow morning for a photo shoot since she wants pictures of them taken. I don’t know if she’s lonely or what, but she does keep busy most of the time. She has plenty of errands of her own to run. She’s dealing with unreliable gardeners right now and the railing still needs to be put in front, too.

Really liking the miniseries Unbelievable, especially Merritt Wever. There’s just something about her even though she’s a little heavy and not my usual type. She’s a very talented actress as well.

How the hell someone as ugly as Dale Dickey can get on TV, is beyond me. Her face reminds me of dried and cracked leather. But the show having people of all shapes, sizes and levels of attractiveness on it is more realistic than shows where everyone is slim and beautiful.

Still not remembering much in the way of my dreams lately, but the other night I did have a dream where Tammy was still in her 50s. She and Mark were excited to have a baby through IVF, LOL.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2019 Dixie called yesterday morning at 9:45 to say she was heading out, so I jumped out and into her SUV and off we went to the Social Security building. Because she’s been so forgetful and even said she’s been forgetting the way to places she’s been going for 30 years, I worried she may get lost on me, but she didn’t. We also didn’t have to wait a century either.

She had told me not to worry if I couldn’t go along, but I assured her I was available and happy to be of help. She sent me a message this morning thanking me for being such a big help. She said she didn’t realize how much help she truly needed and was grateful for my assistance. Yeah, she uses a walking stick and has a hard time just getting up out of a chair that I had to kind of tug on her arm. Plus, she was dropping things like important papers as well.

The room wasn’t that big and there were about 30 or 40 people. After the uniform guard checked our handbags, she went to one of these little computers that you input info on. She had to put in Diane’s social security number because she was there to get proof that she’s still getting Social Security in order to keep Medi-Cal going. It’s a complicated and screwed-up system but that’s just the way it works. They’re not illegals. She and Diane have to fight for basic rights and benefits.

The woman never shuts up, I swear! LOL, not even I talked nearly as much on my chattiest of days. She even loves to chat with strangers. There was a couple there that she knew too, and they got to talking. She kept apologizing for talking to them and I said it was no problem at all.

Not only has she been forgetful, but she often has to stop and think of the words she wants to use and all that. Oh, she’s forgetful all right. We were chatting with the guy sitting across from us whose mother was with him. She was pretty old, too. I asked Dixie how she managed to see without glasses and said I needed them for everything.

“So get them,” she says, and the guy and I burst out laughing. It’s like, hello, duh!

Then she looks at me and sees I’m wearing glasses and goes, “Well, I never pay attention to people’s faces,”

Haha, but she noticed my makeup right away and complimented me on it. I was a glitter whore. Gold glitter eyeshadow, pink glitter mascara, and blue eyeliner.

Anyway, it was good to get out and to help her and we even enjoyed the change of weather which brought cooler temps and some actual rain. But now I’m ready to have summer back. I was freezing my ass off this morning and I had to put my big bulky robe on which I always hate since I hate long sleeves. It’s supposed to be in the upper 80s today, so that will warm things back up. It was 84% humid yesterday.

It was weird because it was the first time anyone else other than Tom drove me anywhere since Eddy, his former coworker in Oregon, drove Blondie and me from the duplex to the house when we were moving while Tom took care of the truck with the expired plate.

Again Molly peaked in on my blog and again I asked myself why it bothered me and again I came up with the same answer… I don’t know, it just does. If she’s reading my blog then she’s reading my tweets. Therefore, I’m back to FO with my blog and I’ve protected my tweets unless I want to tweet to someone I’m not connected to. Created a bogus account so I can blog publicly without her or Aly seeing it unless they somehow find it. In that case, they would have to stumble upon it accidentally since I signed up with a temporary email.

Took care of the pigs’ liner and now I’m going to clean the master bedroom and bath before I start copying entries again and do some story editing.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2019 Still watching crime docs on Hulu and started watching Unbelievable on Netflix as well. It’s a pretty interesting miniseries. Sad and scary but interesting. It’s based on a true story.

Going to be picked up by Dixie later in the morning to accompany her to the Social Security building where she has an errand to run as an assistant of sorts because of her limited walking abilities. This should take around an hour depending on how crowded it is. This is California. Everything is crowded here.

It was a pleasant weekend and yesterday was surprisingly peaceful. We might actually get our first rain of the season today too, but if we do, I’m sure it will be just a quick drizzle. We don’t really enter the rainy season until next month.

Haven’t heard from Tammy in a while. Don’t know why she’s slipped back into silent mode. I hope my email messages haven’t ended up in her spam box. Must not have anything new to update me on, I guess.

Took care of the animals earlier and soon I’m going to do a little cleaning. Carefully, though, so that I don’t end up with my own limited walking abilities. I re-injured my quad muscle running really fast this morning.

Three weeks till menopause!

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2019 Warming the cooked chicken I got from Sam’s yesterday. I used both levels in my steamer yesterday for the first time, cooking broccoli and cauliflower on the bottom and sugar snap peas up top.

I got a blue eyeliner stick along with Caribbean coconut rum and vodka cherry soda from Rite Aid yesterday. The Caribbean coconut rum has a pleasant taste, but the cherry vodka is boring.

Bob celebrated his 90th birthday yesterday. I wonder if he ever thought he’d get that old? I know that there was once a time I didn’t think I’d even make it to 30. I just hope he and Virginia are still alive when we leave.

It may not be even remotely close to time to start looking, but rural is definitely out. Not just because I’m used to the hustle and bustle of the city but because I’d rather be annoyed with noise than inconvenienced just because people can’t shut up. In the country, there’s the shitty internet connection to consider and the fact that you can’t get things delivered there so easily like groceries and packages. Plus, the near-hour drive to the nearest city. No thanks! This is what I’m used to, and quiet, if there really is such a thing, would seem way too weird at this point.

I only want to change the distance between the street and the bedroom and get out of a flight path. Of course, I didn’t think we were in one before a year ago as far as commercials go. I don’t know why they changed paths. It would still be worth checking flight paths and seeing how close we are to small-plane airports as well. Not much we can do about helicopters. It’s only quiet here from midnight to 6 a.m. There can be some small planes and helicopters during these hours, though. Yes, you do grow accustomed to it somewhat, believe it or not.

Went out walking in the full moon just after 2 a.m. It was a peaceful walk save for one plane or helicopter and one skunk but this time I didn’t run and it stayed on the other side of the street.

Tom put new keyboard tray arms on my desk so now I can put my keyboard there.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2019 Finished watching Cold Valley and now I’m watching another docuseries, Blood Runs Cold.

Second time in a row nothing woke me up, but I don’t feel as energized as I did yesterday. Going to make this one of my two days a week off from exercise. My quad muscles are a little sore anyway from yesterday’s hard run where I nearly spilled.

Most days I didn’t notice hypo symptoms when cutting my dose, but it sure caught up to me with the fatigue I was having. It’s a different kind of fatigue too, as opposed to simply being tired from not sleeping well. It sucks. You feel like a downed airplane with engine failure. And oh, the brain fog and non-stop pissing!

So 50 is the hypo dose and 75 is the side effect dose. I took the hypo dose today to ease back into the side effect dose more gradually and hopefully reduce those nasty effects.

My nails are a bit clearer but still oddly discolored. Still not sure whether or not I’ll ask the doc about it or not.

Bracing myself for Tammy’s inevitable reminders on FB that it’s her darling narcissistic daughter’s birthday today. Why do people wish their friends a happy birthday to so and so anyway? It’s Sarah’s birthday. Wish it to HER.

It’s Nurse Kim’s birthday, too. She’s 50. Bad age. 48-52 is true hell.

I told Aly that the editing of Rainstorm was taking longer than expected. She told me to take my time since she couldn’t buy it till October since some unexpected expenses came up.

I knew it. I just knew it. She’s been getting bad with following through on things. I’m sure she’ll take forever to buy it since saving $3 is oh so hard, and good luck to myself on getting an actual review from her on it.

Despite this, I feel so bad for her right now. Her dog Leo died. She said he was struggling to breathe and they were about to take him to the vet when he died. Wonder if my poison had anything to do with it. The dog had just been started on it for a bad thyroid.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2019 My cholesterol numbers are in and shitty as ever. I totally forgot that low thyroid means high cholesterol, no matter what you eat, ACV shots or not, LOL.

I couldn’t figure out why I was light-headed and then remembered that it was because I was increasing my dose. Whenever I switch back to Sandoz from the more “anxious” brands or increase my dose, I’m initially light-headed. It will go away eventually. I just hope the anxiety doesn’t feel it has to replace it! I’m still worried about that. I would really have to see myself take 75s every single day for over 6 months without issue to finally think I may have fully beaten the anxiety. For now, only 50s can avoid it but of course, that leaves me pretty hypo. I’m gonna cut tomorrow’s pill so I can climb back up more gradually. 75s is always where I feel the side effects. Always. Lightheadedness, anxiety, etc. At least, as I can tell Dr. A, I never skip anymore.

It seems that adding the Alexa with too much bass in it playing brown noise may help keep traffic from waking me up, but I don’t want to get my hopes up too high just yet.

The skunk I saw when out on my walk proves I still have pretty good balance overall. When I saw it on the other side of the street, I decided I would start moving quickly to get further away from it faster in case I decided to take a shot at me. I started running fast downhill while keeping my head turned in its direction and veered off the road and onto the bumpy grassy area that’s definitely not the stable ground the pavement is. I almost took a tumble in this poorly lit area and it took me a few seconds to get back on the road. The first thing I thought of was Aly and Tom. Tom doesn’t have great balance and Aly’s is worse. She falls on a flat floor, she told me.

In Aly’s copy of this entry, I told her I had a dream about Molly and was glad she and her mom stopped harassing me and hoped it stayed that way. Just curious to see if she then points out that Mommy Dearest is dead. If not, then I’ll think even more that she knows I’m following her and Molly.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2019 Slept better and took a full dose when I got up, then did my tapping. Still woke up a few times but I have more energy than yesterday. Enough to go on a walk-jog. Hell, I’m even praying for the anxiety not to return even though that’s never really been effective for me and I still don’t know that there’s anything up there to hear me.

If I’m supposed to be an influencer who can sometimes influence the outcome of things with her mind/mood, well, I’m thinking of those who can take this poison with no problem, trying to be positive and say, “By God, I’m going to do the exact same thing for once and for all no matter what!” Sort of like a girl who watches all her girlfriends land a man she hasn’t been able to land herself and is finally pissed off and determined enough to do so. Wanting something doesn’t always mean you’ll get it, of course. But I’m going to do my best to influence things in my favor so I can have more energy and not feel like I’m forced to play a twisted game of Would You Rather?

Would you rather be drop-dead exhausted? Or would you rather be batshit anxious?

I’d rather have my cake and eat it too. :-)

The freeway is getting louder as it does this time of year and the planes are back in full annoyance mode, especially at night and early morning. I’ve given up on complaining because I know how much that can backfire. In this case, it’s simply done me no good at all. I’m completely ignored on Twitter and all I got when I filled out an official complaint form was told that they’d pass it along. Not, “We’re working on doing something about the problem.”

Added my Bluetooth with brown noise to my sleeping regime in place of the earbud and it started making an old-fashioned busy signal sound when it ran out of juice as it does when the battery craps out. I thought it was part of a dream at first where a few of those fat-nosed, woolly-headed bitches were verbally beating the crap out of me for who knows what.

What’s weird is that when I plug it into the charger, I first see a red light as I should. But instead of the light staying red until it turns green, it goes out and I have to unplug and replug it. Really hope I can get it to last throughout my entire sleep because it seems like it might be helpful. Worst case scenario I could bring the newest Alexa in here because that one has bass, unlike the one I have in here. This one is good for audiobooks but not music because it’s tinnier.

Would be so great to live somewhere where I could retire the stereo and simply tell Alexa to play brown noise on loop mode!

Meanwhile, since I can’t sleep with the earbuds without irritation, I’m using them during prime plane time. It’s only when I lie on them that it’s an issue. Going to have to take it to the hotel when we go to Alcatraz, though.

Wondering why the top of what’s left of my bad ear has been more sensitive lately, especially when I lie on it. Dismantling the fucking frame was supposed to eliminate that!

Scorned: Love Kills and Murder on the Internet was too predictable, so right now I’m watching a miniseries called Killer Unknown that covers a couple of cold cases from 1998 and 1973.

I was surprised to learn that less than 60% of murders ever get solved. I thought nowadays it was around 75%. I can’t imagine getting away with murder, not that I’d want to kill anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me, no matter how well I tried to pull it off. I have no doubt, however, that if I were ever murdered, the killer would never be caught. Just my shit luck, you could say, since no one who has ever screwed me over in any way has ever been made to pay for it. Don’t tell me they’ll get theirs in the afterlife. No one can know this for sure or even if there even is an afterlife, and personally, I hope there isn’t. The actual dying process doesn’t just scare me, but so does the endless possibilities of what may lay beyond if there is a beyond. To me, it’s akin to being a lost child left abandoned on the street in which anyone can come along to take wherever and do whatever to. It could be anything from a caring, motherly woman to an outright deadly pervert. One can never know.

The only thing I don’t like about the show is that they keep saying the same damn things over and over again.

If this map I found that shows the laws by state as far as loud engines go means anything at all, then Florida just became more appealing even though loud car stereos and motorcycles are an issue there. I’d also choose New Mexico over Nevada if we didn’t go straight to Florida. California is one of the six or seven states where you can do anything you want and to hell with who it may affect. There are a lot of gray states, but Florida seems to be one of the toughest as far as muscle cars and all that attention-getting shit goes. Of course, with my shit luck, the laws would change the day we got there just like they started letting motorcycles in here as soon as we got here. eye-roll

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2019 Not the least bit surprisingly, I didn’t sleep well at all. Woke up several times, once or twice to pee, and I’m pretty sure traffic got in on the wake-up calls as well. I’m experimenting with having Alexa play different sounds along with the main sound machine, but I’m not sure that’s going to help. My fatigue is too extreme to be just traffic and having to pee, and I know it’s low thyroid as well.

Also, I’m now thinking my nails do have a fungus but more likely some kind of disease. The purplish-brown spot on the thumb is the same but It seems the tannish-colored spots are “moving” around at random. I’m a pretty observant person and I did not have that spot on the right side of my left middle finger yesterday that I’m now seeing which means part of the problem is the nail bed. I haven’t been doing anything different or putting anything on my nails that could do that, and I gloved up doing the incense.

I want to question whether or not I really do have polycythemia because that’s not something that should be on my record if I don’t. I agree with Tom that even though I do have a few of the symptoms I read can be associated with that disease, I was probably just dehydrated and that elevated my RBC. Polycythemia is a rare blood cancer for fuck’s sake. It’s not dire like breast or cervical cancer, but I don’t want something like that on my record if my numbers were elevated due to a little dehydration. No, I don’t want to get a second opinion if she says that is what it is, but I’ve always believed that it’s important that things you don’t have not be on your record and things you do have be on your record so that in the event of an emergency, not that I expect any, doctors are as up-to-date as possible.

Read more on PV and the right upper ab pain I sometimes get isn’t likely connected if I do have it because it’s not only too low, but PV is on the other side. PV patients’ spleens sometimes enlarge, so that’s why they can get pain there.

Made the incense, and it’s a good thing I saved the cutter because I had to cut the oil in order to completely coat the sticks. The 4-oz bottles weren’t quite enough, so I took each scent and poured half a bottle on the sticks, which are in tin pans, then I filled the rest of the bottle with cutter and poured the whole thing on the sticks. Let’s just say it smells damn good in here and I don’t smell any trace of rodents!

The Buttered Rum, Cedarwood and Suntan Lotion smell right on. The Coffee Caramel and Creamy Chocolate Cupcake also smell as they should. The Blueberry almost smells sugary and I would never know that the Merlot was Merlot. It almost smells like cherry candy. The Mayan Musk is absolutely beautiful, and the Earl Grey Tea is good but has a hint of lemon in it which I don’t usually care for. Still has a nice refreshing smell to it. I’m Too Sexy is hard to describe. It almost has hints of Mecca or Majmua in it. Fortunately, it’s all good. There isn’t anything here that smells bad.

Even though it’s not like I ignore them, I sometimes feel guilty for getting pets. Not the fish but the rats and pigs. I feel like I’m too tired to give them much attention, and on days I’m not, I’m in a hurry to catch up on things I know I’ll soon be too tired to deal with once again.

Tom’s up now and we chatted some. We both agree a lot of the fatigue is low thyroid and that while traffic doesn’t help, it’s not all that. My joints are getting stiff too, and oh, the brain fog. :-( I’m thinking of taking full doses until I feel the anxiety setting in since fatigue is still better than that, and I now have a better sense of how to control it by lowering my dose a touch. Since I’ve gone weeks in the past on full daily doses without issue, why deprive myself until and if I get anxious? I’ll take full doses, make sure to do my EFT daily, then back down to 50s when I start getting bad until the spell passes.

It’s now been 3 years since I had all-out panic attacks. If that can improve, hopefully the “stabbers” can too. I’m less than a month from menopause, so that should help as well as my lady hormones finally make their way home and settle in for the remainder of my life.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2019 Slept much better, though I did wake up twice to pee and a few other times for no reason. No traffic or planes woke me up. Excited to be more awake so I can do more things! A little sad that I have to be excited about what should be a basic right and not a rare treat, but I’m gonna take advantage of it because the next time around will probably be like yesterday. I seem to go back and forth with that.

Went out walking for about half an hour and I mixed some jogging in as I always do. It was slightly warm, but I didn’t see any skunks. Still feeling good but I’ve got that head buzz again where it’s almost like my head is vibrating.

My oils are coming tomorrow so I’m looking forward to making more incense.

Made egg salad for the first time ever and it came out weird but edible enough. The chopper I used to chop the eggs and onions is so utterly worthless I’m going to dump it. It’s that bad. Much easier to take the paring knife we got at Sam’s and chop things with that, and much easier to clean as well. So I’m not going to be looking for a better chopper. Just an egg slicer. I do still have high cholesterol, and strokes and heart attacks do still run in my family, so I’m not going to have eggs very often at all. Maybe only every two or three months.

After I ate my first homemade egg salad sandwich, I felt like I hadn’t eaten a thing and had to add nine pieces of shrimp to feel satisfied. I was reminded again of the importance and benefits of the potato diet. That’s more than twice as many calories to fill me up as a potato would have been. So when the variety is gone, back on the potato/avocado diet I go! This way I can get my protein from the avocado and vitamins, minerals and some carbs from the potato. No sodium, cholesterol and fat. my sugar intake is also very minimal.

Can’t believe I’ve learned to cook as much as I have! Yes, the former frozen dinner queen has retired.

Still no cholesterol numbers posted yet, so I don’t know if they screwed that up or what. The nail dream explains what numbers I have seen as I said in my last entry.

I was thinking about the dream I had where I told someone I figured out the main cause of my anxiety and would figure out how to lose weight and how both these things have happened. I’m not 100% anxiety-free and I haven’t lost that much weight, but that dream wasn’t just a dream. So, when am I going to have a dream where I smile and come out and say that I’ve been able to take full doses of my medication without anxiety for quite a while? I wish!

Gave up on the latest season of Scream. I really wish these fucking producers would stop bringing politics into entertainment. Barely 10 minutes into the show and blacks are whining about how much Trump hates them. That may be so but when has he ever taken any of their rights away as he has with gays? Hell, a black guy has more rights than a white woman who wants an abortion in the wrong state.

The rat and fish were so funny last night. Bettas are pretty brave and intelligent. When I put Fuzzy on the counter, he curiously swam up to where he was to check him out. Then Fuzzy stops and stares as if to say, what the fuck is that?

Rats have red-green blindness, but he should have been able to see his blueness, just maybe not as vividly. They have shitty vision overall. Like 20/600.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2019 Aly left me 6 messages throughout the day so I don’t think it’s me she’s cutting back on communicating with. I’m thinking it’s Kim she’s pulling away from because of the way she gets carried away non-stop about June which annoys her. The ghost icon now makes sense when I think about it because Kim is into the paranormal. Earlier she tweeted that she reached out to someone depressed and their reply made her feel worse. Not sure who that could have been. She also told Molly she was in pain because she fell twice today (she’s anemic and sometimes gets dizzy, plus she bruises easily). But she didn’t mention any of these things in her messages.

The only thing about the ghost icon is that she tweeted this on an account she’s connected to Kim on. did she think Kim wouldn’t be smart enough to get it or that she wouldn’t see it?

This time around I was woken up by a loud plane instead of traffic, so I’m a little tired…as usual. Now it’s intermittent small planes I have to listen to in the wee hours of this boring night.

Anyway, I got to wake up to a bunch of shitty numbers and now I know why I had the dream of finding stripes on my nails. The dream was saying what I figured it was saying… you ain’t dying but shit’s ahead.

I was right about my TSH being in the 20s. It’s 20.93, the high end of moderate. My white blood cell count was fine, but my red blood cell count, hematocrit, and glucose numbers are slightly high. I don’t remember the blood cell numbers but this is the first time my glucose was high at 101. I think that one was my fault, though. I don’t sleep well when I’m on nights and therefore I don’t have as much energy to exercise so that could be why. I’ve been too tired to exercise more than once or twice this last week or so and that’s the way it’s likely always going to deed until and if I can ever find a place where traffic will let me sleep. For reasons I don’t know, planes have been flying lower lately, so now they’re waking me up, too. Tell me my sleep isn’t cursed and I’ll assure you you’re full of shit. The only good thing is that after those couple of days that I heard the insanely loud car visiting about a week or so ago, it hasn’t been around since.

What was weird was that my lipid panel wasn’t posted yet.

Although I have been diagnosed with polycythemia vera, I may have been slightly dehydrated at the time they drew blood which could explain the slight elevation in red blood cell and hematocrit numbers.

The PV can cause darkening in the nails, so I read. The yellowing could also be something called diabetes mellitus, but I sure hope not. I’ve never had either color in my nails before. Just a yellowy right index finger when I used to smoke. It seems to be connected to hormonal and metabolic issues, and I guess that’s why under “Conditions,” they also have Erythrocytosis listed, a secondary PV.

I do have some but not all PV symptoms. Rib and hip pain are listed, and every now and then I get this cramp-like feeling in my very upper right stomach. I jokingly tell Tom it’s a “broken liver” day. Could there be a connection to the PV, though? And how about my right hip? I suppose the hip could just be me getting older, but it makes me wonder.

I feel like I’m never going to be able to get my health on track without killing myself while I’m at it. It’s like my only choice is to either take enough medication so that I’m healthier but anxious or vice versa. Starting to feel trapped, frustrated, and kind of hopeless. I know I’m not going to drop dead tomorrow or the next day but still. I’m frustrated! I’m still pretty certain that the medication brand and something in the filler are the key to my anxiety. It’s almost like something up there doesn’t want me fully treating my thyroid. Anxiety is the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced in my life. I would still rather give myself half-assed treatment and be a little less healthy than be anxious. But yeah, I’m stressing right now. I’m worried I may never get things right and if we’ll ever have a place I can sleep. I’ve definitely given up hope of ever being a sounder sleeper or at least getting used to being tired. I really thought UPS would be the worst of what we’d hear here as far as traffic goes. I just didn’t know there would be so many loud cars and trucks and I certainly wasn’t counting on motorcycles.

Volume makes up for distance so that’s why we need to get a place as far from the street as possible. Things are louder than they were 20 years ago so we need to get further away. But going rural presents its own set of problems, so both country and city have their share of pros and cons, you could say. Even if all the sleep disturbances aren’t literally damaging my health, it’s making my life harder than it needs to be. I could be more active and do more things if I didn’t have to spend so much time taking it easy due to being tired.

Made two eggs in the new cooker and the thing shut off before the time expired in which the two medium-boiled eggs were supposed to be in there. I probably took them out a little too soon but after I cooled them and broke them open, the yolk was runny as if I made over-easy eggs. I’ll never fry them again and have to deal with sticky frying pans ever again! I love this cooker and it was well worth the money even though I’ll use it for veggies a lot more than for eggs. The veggies take longer and are a little more work this way than zapping them but they come out so much better that it’s worth it.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2019 The KFC brought on a bounding pulse, so I’ll seldom return there are eat much else in the way of fried, unhealthy, or salty things.

My numbers are pending till 10:35 tomorrow morning. I’ll be asleep then. I made the comment to Tom about wishing I could tweak the numbers.

“Why lie to a doctor we pay hundreds to?” he said.

He’s got a point. I’d only want to change the TSH. I was hoping my TSH wouldn’t be over 16 until I realized that’s not possible. The first time I took 50, I was pushed down from 32 to 16. The first time I went on 75, I dropped to 3. Nowadays, 75 gets it around 6-7. Therefore, 50 would now bring me to the low 20s. So yeah, despite my repeated requests to be contacted via the portal instead of by phone, I’m sure her nurse is going to be calling me as if I’ve got stage 4 cancer.

Speaking of that evil number which I totally believe without a doubt is the unluckiest number on earth, I really want to skip this next birthday. Any age or year with a 4 in it, I want to be put in a coma and not woken up until it’s over! Seriously, I told Tom we’re not celebrating, we’re not doing anything.

Taking advantage of having slept well and having energy, I went on a half-hour walk. I was probably the only one walking to someone singing, “Snapchat me that pussy.” Yeah, I like rap music even if a lot of it is pretty hateful and sexist.

It was cooler out and windy, too. Saw a loose German Shepherd toward the gate and turned around and headed the other way. I know it probably wouldn’t have done anything to me but I don’t like big dogs.

Aly, how the hell are you aware of my every fucking digital move??? It can’t be a coincidence that just two or three days after I found your newest account you changed handles, protected your tweets, and blocked me. You’re tracking Twitter somehow, aren’t you? Or did you somehow manage to get into my computer and somehow install something through a link you had me click that tracks my every move?

More than likely, you get tweets sent to your phone, and before I deleted it, you saw my vague tweet about accidentally learning someone “youngish” died… Karma! You knew who I was referring to, though I’m going to try to throw you off by making up a story in part of my journal I’ll be sending you about someone’s stalker dying youngish and make you think I was talking about him instead.

Meanwhile, I’ve deactivated 2 of my 3 accounts. The one I used with Kim and Aly and the one I’d log wake-up times on. I can log my wakeups on the one private account I have left. Kim and Aly know it’s down and that we keep in touch elsewhere anyway, which we all prefer.

I understand her wanting some privacy on some accounts. I know I do at times. Sometimes I just want certain accounts not to include those I know or know well.

But after I deactivated, she ran and made that account public and I saw a tweet to someone else saying she was cutting way down on how much she talks to (inserts ghost emoji), writing regularly again, and eating healthier.

I know damn well I’m the one she’s referring to. You know, it’s funny too, because she preaches about accepting others as they are yet she sure seems to be “brought down” by those who don’t share her views and whatnot, and I’d be willing to bet that’s what it’s all about. Yeah, I can’t stand most Muslims in the Middle East, Aly, and I don’t support illegals. You better not talk to me much then!

That’s okay. She won’t be hearing from me as much either. In fact, I think I’ll skip tomorrow. Not gonna give her the slightest hint that I’m onto her, though, unless she really has a way of knowing when I look in on her. This way I can see what’s really on her mind and what she really thinks of me.

She also tweeted that while she loves her job, other things are still bringing her down. Big changes to come.

Like dumping me? Some people are truly toxic, yes, but I don’t think she realizes that she has clinical depression and that sometimes we just get depressed. Period. Instead, it seems to be easier for her to blame it on others as a man often blames his sexual problems on others that no doubt existed long before the woman (or guy) they’re with entered the picture.

But how do I bring her down? By not agreeing with everything she says? By complaining about noise? My God, how the hell can she stand Molly and all her whining and negativity then? She’s always got a problem with someone. Always. Yet after telling me a while back they don’t talk much and that’s okay with her, she tweeted to her that they should talk more. It isn’t just about us being different. I really think she’s always had a thing for the unstable. I did notice she’d been checking in less most days and for a split second, I wondered if it was me. Then I said, naw, she just started a new job and Cam’s been needing help with his medical issues. But it was me after all. Well, I do hope she sticks around, but I’m fine with swapping messages just once or twice a day because that’s enough for me anyway.

She’s dumped me before so I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it again. I wasn’t kidding, though, when I said that if she does, that’s the way it stays. I’m not going to go back and forth every few years or so. If I was smart I would tell her I saw the tweet and if that’s the way she feels, then maybe we should disconnect since she’s obviously not very happy with me, and then I just won’t make any new friends. But I think instead I’ll sit back silently for now. Especially on the off-chance I’m wrong. Why lose a decent friend if she could be talking about someone else even though I’m 99% sure she isn’t? She would probably say it was someone else she was referring to if I confronted her anyway, so silence is golden. I’ll quietly observe as long as it’s public and see just how true a friend (or not) she really is.

Tom is coding now. We ran out to Rite Aid earlier and I’m trying Tequila. Well, it’s not straight Tequila. It’s mango sparkling water spiked with Sauza tequila. It’s only 5% alcohol. How’s it taste? Weird, weird, and just plain weird. Not sure it’s anything I’ll ever get again, but it definitely has a very unique taste.

Feeling just a teeny touch off today. Because of my pending numbers? Because of Aly? IDK, maybe I’m not good enough for others.

No, that’s not true. I’m just not always what they want me to be. I’m not a bad person. Not a perfect person, but not bad. We can’t please everyone. I get that. I also get that people come and go in our lives. I’ll just enjoy her presence as long as she’s around. I think it’s just the stress of the numbers, but as Tom loves to say, they are what they are.

His inability to handle my complaints, (old ones or new ones) and lack of willingness to defend me really gets to me more and more these days. I really need to keep things to myself and just unload in my journal. Not on him.

Still, knowing someone could call me every name in the book and cut me down in every way right in front of him and that he would remain absolutely silent, hurts. It angers me, too.

As we were leaving the park today, a creeper was in front of us. As they were crawling along, I said, “Can they just do the speed limit.”

“We’re not going to run over an old lady,” he said.

Yeah, well, the old lady wasn’t in the street. They could’ve sped up without hitting anyone. It’s like he’s always gotta disagree, play down, make excuses for others, and be the opposite of me and it gets old. It really does.

Last night I had a dream that I was in a house somewhere with Tammy and some others. There was a blackout. I was in a large room and saw the silhouette of what I thought was someone sitting on a couch and asked if it was Tammy. I thought I heard a faint reply but couldn’t make out anything for sure. To see who, if anyone, was really sitting there, I went to reach for the light when the alarm went off.

Tammy’s cell phone was sitting nearby and without thinking I grabbed it when it rang, still in the dark. A guy asked if everything was okay because the alarm was going off. My first instinct was to assume it was someone from a security company asking if it was a false alarm or not and I said, “I don’t know. It started going off and I can’t find my sister.”

The dream ended with me realizing that no security company would call her phone when the house belonged to someone else.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2019 A new season of Scream just hit Netflix. Damn! Stuff is coming out on both Netflix and Hulu faster than I can watch it, but it’s better than waiting for weeks or months for new stuff I like.

Not at all surprisingly, the fucking garbage or green waste truck woke me up and it took nearly an hour before I could doze back off, so I’m tired today. Sick of this shit. Really sick of it. Haven’t been woken up this much since I lived in apartments. I won’t get into all the shit I have to listen to when I’m awake, like motorcycles tearing in and out.

Turns out they weren’t working on the roof of a garage a few houses down but putting up a carport. I’m sure there will be something else around here soon enough. I’m tired of living with people with money. I don’t want to go back to living with the welfare bums, of course, but those with money are the ones who can afford to do all these annoying projects.

I know part of why I’m having trouble sleeping now is the stress of my blood work and appointments, but I disagree with Tom when he says the reason I’ve been waking up so easily from noise is due to perimenopause. First of all, I’ve been a light sleeper for 30 years now. Secondly, that’s virtually over. Not saying that hasn’t been part of it but I think I’m just a light sleeper who’s too close to a busy street in a time when so many vehicles are loud. Sound also goes through wooden walls better than brick.

One of the things to determine when we can escape this circus is who gets elected as the next president. Really hope to hell my vibes are correct and that it isn’t Trump, not just because of the shit he’s putting women, gays, and plenty of other people through, but because he’s so anti-insurance that it wouldn’t be wise to leave Cali with him in charge. I don’t understand why any human being on earth would want people to be uninsured but he’s obviously very much against insurance.

I’m sorry, you subhuman slimeball, but healthcare should be a human right and not a privilege. Healthcare should be provided at no cost for everyone, rich or poor, through our taxes just like so many other things are. But it’s never going to be that way in this country. I get that. But it would be a little better if a Democrat got elected because then we could probably find a more affordable insurance plan, get out of here, and live off the sale of this house and hopefully apps too, while we decide where we want to ultimately end up. My vibe says Trump will not be re-elected, but my shit luck says otherwise.

Anyway, I went to the lab and you could say I’m very worried about my TSH, moderately worried about my cholesterol, and mildly worried about my red and white blood cell count.

My nails still look worse than I’ve ever seen them. Some have a purplish tinge and they all have a faint yellow hue. Some have lifting as well. I think it’s a fungus and he thinks my nails are just dried out. Whatever it is, I’m not worried about it. I’ll leave them unpolished as much as that’s like walking around naked for me and see if they clear up. Thyroid issues are listed as one possible cause, but I don’t have lung issues, diabetes, psoriasis, or an iron deficiency.

After the lab, it was off to KFC where I got a 4-piece combo. I was going to get a 3-piece but got a 4-piece because the pieces were kind of puny. Ah, the unhealthy treat was so good! I was so hungry by then since I had to fast that I ate all the chicken, every bite of mac and cheese, and the entire biscuit. Adding a little variety for the next week, then it’s back to mostly potatoes and avocados.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2019 “I wonder if the receptionist at the sperm bank has ever used the phrase, thanks for coming.”

ROTFL!!!

Unfuckingbelievable. Only in LV will you find people working on projects at nearly 8 o’clock at night when it’s almost dark. People are working on a garage roof a few houses down. Fortunately, I can’t hear it in the bedroom. Only when I go in the bathroom.

I’m still hoping this is nothing despite the dream I had, but my nails look worse. Also, this is the first time that when I went to remove my polish as I did a little while ago, my left thumb, which has the most discoloration, actually burned. I still feel a slight tingling sensation too. Starting to think this isn’t just nail polish discoloration. I’ve been polishing my nails religiously for years and I never had this before. Discoloration shouldn’t burn or tingle either, should it? But nothing else makes sense either. Fungus, infection, cancer…just doesn’t make sense. Definitely not going to repolish them for a while. Got a bit of a white streak on one of them too, but nothing like a stripe, and the dream stripes were dark, too.

The cooker came today and it’s great. I won’t have any eggs until Sunday but I steamed some broccoli and cauliflower and it came out better than when I zap them in the microwave. They had a bit of crunchiness to them but were still soft. The microwave damages the fibers in the veggies so much that they’re almost too soft.

Can’t wait for the KFC we’ll be stopping at on the way home from the lab tomorrow! Looked up an egg salad recipe to make this weekend where I can omit celery which I can’t stand. I’m definitely going to be indulging in variety until Monday the 16th, even though my weight is still down.

I took a walk down to Dixie yesterday evening at 8 and it was still hot. We sat inside, but I wasn’t much cooler in there because this woman doesn’t believe in air conditioners, so it seems. She gave me some watermelon and we chatted for nearly two hours. She told me all kinds of things about her past and the present. How her daughter got pregnant as a teenager, got an abortion, and no one regretted it. Then she told me about her time in these nearby condos that she lived in for 30 years and thought was the best place she ever lived.

Plus, she told me some scary stories from when her kids were young and Diane had recently come to live with her. I guess there were a lot of peeping Toms in the area because one time when she was coming home with some guy, she saw this shadow of a guy running from her backyard. This was in Sacramento.

An even scarier time was when she and Diane were home alone and she heard this weird sound. She went and looked and found someone rattling the kitchen doorknob. She screamed for Diane to call the police while she put pressure on the door. Fortunately, he was picked up after being found hiding in a bush outside her place and before he could harm anyone. Some famous serial rapist was on the loose at this time, too.

She too struggled with Levothyroxine when she first went on it and even gave up on it for a while. She also said something about a drug called Cipro nearly killing her. I guess that’s an antibiotic of some kind.

She said she wouldn’t mind company tagging along to the doctor since it’s hard for her to walk, and I told her that as long as I’m available, I wouldn’t mind helping.

We’ve been exchanging jokes via email, the above being one of them, and after remembering her gorgeous nails which she showed me last night that look long, strong, and healthy, I offered to polish her nails for her if she ever wants.

Diane isn’t autistic. In her words, she’s severely retarded. I know some people don’t like the R-word but deal with it, okay? We all have our ways of expressing ourselves. If you’re that sensitive, then the Internet isn’t for you.

One of the funny things she told me that Diane’s been doing lately is telling her bus driver to go to different places instead of taking her home. Not that she isn’t happy here and not that she hasn’t enjoyed the 47 years she’s lived with Dixie, but if an idea hits her all of a sudden, she jumps to it.

Dixie said she went with a group of people to a Japanese steakhouse and did fine.

She mentioned hearing Santa’s whining dog while sitting by her open dining room window where she was doing email. I figured it was his dog, and if I lived further down the street it would be hard not to say anything. Pretty damn annoying the way they leave it barking out of the screen porch door and rude, too. Do they not realize others can hear it? Or do they just not care?

The planes are back to being an annoyance but it’s almost like they’re less often but louder. Earlier in the afternoon one flew over so low, and I was like WTF? They haven’t built another airport or brought the existing one closer, so why are they flying so low??? It just sucks because sometimes I can’t even look forward to getting peace at least at night.

Been fine for the last 10 days or so, so I’m starting to think that yeah, the dose was probably as much of an issue as the brand. So to finally have figured out how to kick my anxiety and to be 31 days from officially menopausal is pretty damn exciting! :-)

I can’t afford to let my schedule jump too far too fast these next couple of weeks so I’m taking a few days here and there where I slow it or hold it and then catch up on sleep the next day. That kind of thing. I love being able to use Alexa for an alarm. It’s so easy and so convenient!

I had some weird dream that I set up my office in the small bedroom and a younger woman was with me telling me I should check out her journal. I asked when she started it and she said 1910. I figured she was either crazy or in a time warp.

I went to the address she gave me but couldn’t read the fancy font so I said I would copy and paste it somewhere where I could change the font and read it after I had a bag of chips.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2019 Tom’s been summoned for jury duty. He doesn’t try to get out of it like I do (since it gets him out of work), but they usually dismiss him anyway. Other than some high-profile, scandalous murder trial, I’ve never had any interest in doing jury duty and I won’t get into my lack of faith and trust in our corrupt “justice” system that gives rapists a few months in prison and years to kiters.

I suppose I’m going to get summoned next and that’s where I wish I wasn’t vindicated in Arizona or that the prank phone calls I made when I was young weren’t expunged from my record, although those were just misdemeanors. So, I have to come up with some reasonable-sounding excuse to get out of it with my squeaky-clean record. Eh, courts, cops, judges, lawyers…they can all go fuck themselves. My only use for them is an occasional role in some of my stories. Hey, nothing like a hottie in uniform, right? ;)

Maybe I won’t get summoned, though, since I don’t have a license. I use my passport when I need to show my ID because that’s all I really need since I don’t drive.

Okay, this can’t be a coincidence. It just can’t. Aly deleted her “secret” protected account. I swear she knows my every move and she somehow knows I found her account. But how? Has she hacked my computer to follow my activity or did she have a tracker on Twitter? To the best of my knowledge, Twitter can’t be tracked any more than Facebook or Ask. I just asked her on WhatsApp if there’s a way to track Twitter just to see what she says. Oh, she just said she doesn’t think so. I’d still like to know how she knows so much.

I’m not sure Molly looks in on me as often as she used to, but I think every now and then she looks at my tweets, plus PB. I’m MO now so that means she has another account I don’t know about. I keep up on the newbies, but she might have finally caught on that she needs to be a lot less obvious than she used to be when it comes to usernames. The visits I think are from her always happen to match up with times she’s on Twitter, so that’s why I think she looks in on my blog at least occasionally.

Not wanting to waste the blank incense sticks I got a couple of years ago that are left over from when I last made my own incense, I ordered 10 1-oz. bottles in the following scents.

Blueberry Cafe Caramel Cedar Wood Creamy Chocolate Cupcake Earl Grey Tea Hot Buttered Rum I’m Too Sexy Mayan Musk Merlot Wine Suntan Lotion

We’re also going to be getting this really cool egg cooker I found by accident. Great thing for one listed as a “cardiac risk” to get, huh? Hey, I’d still rather feel great and be happy and die in 10 years than suffer and be miserable for another 30. This thing is really cool because it’s cheap and can cook eggs in different ways while allowing me to steam vegetables on its upper tier as well.

Heard from Dixie a little while ago who said she was proud of herself for talking her car insurance down $150. Also, Diane will be with her sitter until tomorrow night. Therefore, she wanted to know if I could come by tonight and help her enjoy some watermelon.

Sure, I told her. I’m sleeping in late enough for evening visits, and like her, I’ve been keeping indoors due to the heat. I hate being cold and I do love summer and wearing summer clothes, but walking and jogging in near 100-degree temps isn’t my thing.

Decided that since I can’t lose weight without starving and am comfortable where I’m at anyway, I’m going to indulge in more variety next week (including meat). I’ve got the lab on Friday so I’m eating as little cholesterol as possible.

The week after next I’m going to eat as little as possible no matter what it is to ensure my weight isn’t up when I see my doctor on the 20th. Pretty much all women gain a few pounds going into menopause, but I would prefer not to. A few days of eating 1000 calories or less (my pigs are screaming for me in the other room, LOL) is one thing, but doing it every day for months is another. Plus, there would still be no guarantees that my body would drop the weight.

Now watch…every fucking show I see and book I read will have food in it to make me hungrier. They already do, but I’m sure it will be more often and much more noticeable, of course. Aly’s almost as bad as Andy was with the food talk, even if it’s just a small reference like spilling sauce on her skirt.

Out of poor, fair, good, and excellent, I’d say my sleep was good. I’m a little tired but not too bad. Traffic did wake me up as usual, and while I am getting somewhat used to being woken up, I still wish it wasn’t so damn hard to sleep here. But if it wasn’t traffic it would just be something else, even though I have in fact lived in places where I slept better, cursed overall in the sleep department or not. Really gotta crash with the earbud, even if it’s not as comfortable, rather than wait to be woken up as this is just ridiculous.

Had a dream Aly and Cam came to visit. Only Cam wasn’t a bald black guy. Instead, he was just your average white guy with thick dark wavy hair. At one point he wanted to go jogging but Aly didn’t want to go, so he asked if I would. I said I would as long as we went slow because I hadn’t been doing it in a while.

Then Aly told me she forgot to pack shorts so I loaned her a pair of mine, not that I can imagine size 10-12 fitting her. She’d probably be swimming in them.

Hoping we’ll not only always be friends but that they really do get to visit someday!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2019 Found Aly’s newest Twitter account on which she’s connected to both Kim and Molly. Her 12 tweets are protected. I found the account when I finally found Molly through my notifications. She changed handles and wasn’t tweeting for a while because her mother died.

Bitch was 70 years old. Kind of youngish for a woman. Imagine working for so many years, retiring, and then dying a few years later? She was a horrible person, though, so it’s hard to feel sorry for her. She was a bigot in the wrong kind of way, a control freak, and even though I didn’t know her well, she showed me enough of her true colors when she teamed up with her daughter to bully, stalk and harass me. Her legal threats really got to me too, even if I could kick myself for letting them. But just like after going through a medical scare can cause medical things to become scarier, when you get legally screwed over in the name of spite and revenge, you don’t take legal threats lightly.

She just seemed like a very nasty, domineering, judgmental person who was a lot like my mother, only this one was a bible thumper.

I wonder how much longer Molly is going to remain at Marbridge and who will pay for it, especially after her father dies. If she doesn’t stay there forever, I wonder where she’ll go. I’m guessing with one of her sisters.

Anyway, the fact that Aly disclosed this account of hers to Molly and Kim but not to me, tells me something. I asked her if she had given up on Twitter or what, and she said we could just keep in touch on WhatsApp. Yeah, but she keeps in touch with Molly and Kim on WhatsApp too, so I’m thinking she doesn’t want to actively follow me on Twitter because she doesn’t always agree with my tweets. Like most of the country, she has a bleeding heart for the country’s illegals and immigrants and thinks they should be left alone to do what they want and to indulge in all the free healthcare they’re granted at our tax dollars’ expense. The only thing we agree on is when it comes to abortion and gays. But like it or not, many illegals hurt Americans, most blacks really are thugs, most Hispanics really are lazy, and most Middle Easterners really are dangerous. If not most, then at least far too many for comfort. People don’t come up with this shit for no reason.

I really hate how one can simply look up our address online. It used to be that you could opt out of having your name, number, and address in the phonebook. But now all this information is thrown online for anyone to see, like it or not. Although no one’s ever abused our address yet, how do I know someone’s not going to get pissed off at me, look up my address and call my local police department insisting I threatened to kill them or myself? They’d lose in the end when it was found out that they were full of shit, but not before I had to go through quite a headache. I guess it’s good that I’ve gotten less sociable online.

As expected, the mama’s boy has returned as of yesterday. I was lying down, and at first, I thought it was either him or a motorcycle that came zooming in, then wasn’t sure if I was hearing him leave or not. But today I saw him come and go with my own eyes. Yesterday I made the comment to Tom about a motorcycle zooming in to see if he would say no, it was that car, but he didn’t. Because he couldn’t tell? Or because he didn’t want me to know it was really that car?

Either way, today left no doubt that he’s back, as I said. What was weird, though, was that he drove out really slow, almost as if he was sneaking out, since the faster he goes, the louder that piece of shit is. That explains why I wasn’t sure if that was him I was hearing when he left yesterday.

Bastard was probably vacationing somewhere but now it’s back to listening to him every day until we move. Actually, I’ve lived in enough places to know better by now. It’s back to listening to him every day until we move. Then it will just be someone else.

I’m sure he’ll be back again today as he no doubt can’t wait to make up for lost quality Mommy and Daddy time. I’m guessing he’ll be back between 3 and 4 and will leave between 6 and 7.

I slept through most of the morning but it will be interesting to see if the planes are an issue again tonight now that it’s after Labor Day.

Yesterday, the lack of variety in my diet got to me, so I had Tom take me to Safeway. I love potatoes but after nothing but potatoes, potatoes, potatoes…it gets old. I didn’t want to get anything with that much cholesterol in it, so I avoided meat. Instead, I got mac and cheese. Multi-flavored jellybeans, too.

Only thing I remember for dreams was calling my mom about Dad picking me up from some job or something I helped someone with.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2019 Found out I won $210.00 off any Tungsten ring and accommodations for 3 days and 2 nights at one of their chosen hotels/locations, and while that in itself may be a substantial discount, it would still cost us for things we’re not interested in. The part of the ring cost that exceeds the discount, and the warranty I’d be required to purchase would be $100 or more, and sure we could stand to stay in San Diego, but we couldn’t charge the car for free that far away. Lastly, we would have to sit through a presentation so they could try to sell us shit we’re not interested in. We’d rather go to Alcatraz for one night as planned. We just don’t know exactly when.

Finished watching Deadly Women and have begun Scorned: Love Kills on Hulu. On Netflix, I’m watching S3 of 13 Reasons Why. Nice to see Chloe go through with her abortion as I get sick of women always happening to keep the kid on TV and making like it’s their only option. There ARE choices! And that choice should always be the woman’s and the woman’s only.

Now can we stop always having to end up on the subject of racism? Even if it’s just a quick mention or example, I’m tired of race having to be brought up in every single fucking episode. Enough is enough! Millions of other topics out there.

Weird got weirder where my maternal grandmother is concerned. No, she didn’t visit me again in my dreams, but after reading back in my 2012 journal (or blog, I guess I’m supposed to call it if it’s digital?), I found something I’d totally forgotten. My paternal great-grandmother, Sylvia, was married to a guy named Joseph. So at least 3 Josephs in the family.

No nightmares or traffic woke me up but I’m even more tired today due to not sleeping as long as I needed to. Couldn’t crash till around 2 a.m. and since my mind was preoccupied with not sleeping too late since I have to go to the lab at the end of the week, I got up at 9. I could have used another hour or two of sleep.

Tom added sound to his app yesterday and he’s getting closer to releasing it. :-)

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2019 So if it isn’t nightmares waking me up at night, it’s traffic. Yeah, the paramedics blew through here at 2 a.m. and woke me up. Damn. Just damn. You know, I’m sorry if someone’s having a medical crisis, but what does that have to do with me? A person should be able to sleep in their own damn home. This shit never would have woken me up in Phoenix and a part of me wishes we fought to get the destructive and disruptive welfare bums next to us removed and just stayed put. It would’ve been a long hard fight in a state that protects, promotes, and favors its minorities, but it would’ve been worth it in the end.

Because of being woken up last night and all the shit I have to listen to in the daytime, especially during the week, it makes me think that a country detour on the way to Florida would be nice. This way I could get better sleep for a few years, and while I may love Florida’s climate, I don’t expect to sleep much better there even in a quieter location due to all the storms. I don’t see that happening, though. I still think we’ll be here another five years and then head for Florida. At least Dorian isn’t heading for Florida last I heard. Looks like Tammy should get some wind and rain but probably not evacuated.

I haven’t lost any more weight on my diet, not surprisingly. It shows that getting the band would do me no good at all. If dieting on my own can’t make me lose weight, a band wouldn’t do it either unless they damn near closed my stomach up completely. No problem, though. :) I didn’t do this diet for weight loss. I did it to be healthier. It saves money, too. 1000-1200 calories is reasonable for one my height and age.

I went from nightmares to strange dreams last night. Last night was the first time in ages that the other bitch showed up in my dreams. My mother’s mother, Shirley, who died in 1985. Only she wasn’t being a bitch at all. She was actually pretty nice, even if I don’t remember a single thing we talked about in that dream.

In one dream, I entered the house she died in through the backdoor, but she was still alive, of course. I went through the kitchen and down the hall and could see far enough into her bedroom to see that she was taking a nap. Not wanting to startle her, I slowly turned around and left.

The weird dream was when I found her sobbing and asked her what was wrong.

“Joe’s going to marry her again,” she said.

When I woke up, I had a feeling it meant something but I couldn’t figure out what. The only Joe I knew I’d been related to was my paternal grandfather who died before I was born. I remembered reading that my maternal grandfather’s mother’s name was Sarah but never knew his father’s name. I only knew they came from Russia. So I looked on Ancestry and was surprised to find his name was guess what? Yeah, Joseph.

But what does it mean??? I don’t believe in reincarnation and I’m not even sure I believe in the afterlife where your spirit simply lives on and does whatever, so I have no idea what to think other than that it sure is a weird coincidence, alright!

[rainstormies]

(10) weirwood dreams

title: light the way

fandom: a song of ice and fire

word count: 2.6k

synopsis: the fall of a king, and the rise of a queen. as the warmth of the reach meets the cold north, ice dances with fire

ALINA

Alina stood before the ornate mirror in her chamber, the candlelight drenching her in a shade of soft yellow. The transition from the vibrant and elegant gowns of the Reach to the practical and sturdy attire of the North showed Alina that winter really was nearly here.

Gone were the flowing silks and intricate embroideries that had once adorned her. In their place, she now wore warm cotton gowns in greys and whites, Stark colours. Layers of fur adorned her shoulders, offering protection against the unforgiving chill of Winterfell.

She examined herself in the mirror, the stark contrast between the southern fabrics and the northern attire striking. The fur cloaked draped over her shoulders felt both foreign and comforting, yet she couldn't help but to think how northern she looked.

As she adjusted the clasps of the fur coat, Alina could not help but think about how the Stark colours seemed to suit her. The transition wasn't merely in clothing, and Alina pondered the idea of when she would marry Robb and become Lady of Winterfell.

Her fingers brushed against the fur, feeling the coarse texture beneath the gentle caress. The Stark colours and the practical design spoke of resilience and unity, qualities she had come to admire in the North.

Alina took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the fur and the subtle aroma of the candles. Winterfell had become her home. With a final adjustment, Alina turned away from the mirror, her steps echoing in the quiet chamber.

Alina truly felt like a lady of Winterfell as she sat next to her betrothed in Lady Catelyn's seat. Tyrion Lannister and men from the Night's Watch had requested Robb's presence.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls of Winterfell's Great Hall. Alina stole a glance at Robb, whose expression was grave as he listened to the Lannister's request. He had word from Jon, and was asking for Bran. As the lady beside Robb, Alina felt a surge of pride, knowing that she was now a part of these important conversations. Lady Alina of House Hightower is what he had introduced her as. Alina longed for the day she would be called a Stark.

Robb invited the Lannister to stay at Winterfell, yet he declined the invitation. Alina could not blame him. Lannisters were not exactly welcome at Winterfell. The few men from the Night's Watch did accept Robb's welcomings, beds having already been prepared for them. There would be a feast tonight.

Alina was placed between Robb and Yoren, a member of the Night's Watch dressed in black garments that had long faded to grey. Alina thought of him as stern and hard-faced. He had a foul smell, like spoiled milk, that lingered as Alina sat next to him. Bran was carried in by the stable boy and seated across from Robb. The lord's seat at the head of the table was empty.

The food consisted of suckling pig, which Alina had not had much of in the south, and pigeon pie. It was a common meal in Winterfell. Alina was more used to the food in the Reach, roast swans, poached pears, and all kinds of fruit tarts. Alina missed blueberry tarts more than anything. Here they never drank anything other than beer and wine. Alina loved iced milk, especially when her mother would add honey, and she loved lemonsweet as well. They had none of that in Winterfell.

Yoren simply shrugged when asked about Jon Snow. And when asked about their uncle Benjen, well Robb did not like the answer. He rose from his seat and started pointing with his sword, a habit he seemed to have picked up on as of late. Alina did not like it.

She called his name and pulled on his sleeve to get him to sit back down, but the boy did not listen. After the table had been cleared and Robb decided to carry Bran back to his chambers himself, Alina felt the need to apologise to Yoren for his behaviour.

"I must apologise for my dear Robb's behaviour. Lately, with Lord Eddard's presence in King's Landing, well, everything has fallen on his shoulders." She said to the older man, but he simply brushed her off. "I know how things go," is all he said.

In the morning, Alina found herself in Bran's chambers. She had awoken Rickon earlier so they could break their fast together. She thought of Bran, who spent most of his time in his chambers. Hodor could carry him to the Great Hall, and there they could all eat together.

The boy was already up when Alina entered, Summer, his ever loyal direwolf, was laying over his legs. "Good morning, Bran. Will you join us in the Great Hall? To break fast together." Bran seemed unsure of that.

"Hodor can carry you, I'm sure." Bran did not look pleased, and Alina knew what was wrong.

She sat down next to him. "My cousin, Willas Tyrell, he lost feelings in his leg. It was a grave injury. It was during his first tourney, as a squire. It was against the great Prince Oberyn Martell, I hear they call him the Red Viper. Well he fell off his horse you see, and it crushed his poor leg. But Willas, he is their first-born, and well, one day, he will become Lord of Highgarden."

Bran looked up. "So he's just like me? He's broken too."

"Oh Bran, you're not broken. What happened to you was an accident, just like with Willas. I heard you wanted to become a knight, maybe even a gold cloak."

"Yeah, but I can't anymore."

"No, you can't. But you are a lord, and one day you will marry a beautiful girl and you will have a grand castle in the North. And you will be Robb and I's bannermen."

"Then you'll be my sister. When will you marry Robb, Alina?"

"When I become a woman, then, you and I will become brother and sister."

The courtyard of Winterfell resonated with the sounds of clashing swords and the rhythmic footsteps of practising soldiers. Robb stood at the forefront, his gaze focused on the training grounds, where men sparred with a disciplined intensity.

Seated on a bench near the edge of the courtyard together with Lanna, Alina observed Robb with a mixture of admiration and concern. His dedication to training the guards and ensuring Winterfell's defence was both impressive, but also burdensome. Rickon, perched on Alina's lap, squirmed with excitement, his small hands reaching out to mimic the swordplay happening before them.

Robb noticed Alina and Rickon watching from the sidelines. He flashed them a brief, weary smile before turning his attention back to the training. Alina couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at his commitment, but a twinge of worry nagged her. She understood the responsibilities that came with being the future, or current, Lord of Winterfell, but she also found herself longing for moments of respite.

Alina missed Robb. He was always busy, and seemed to spend more time with Hallis Mollen and Theon than herself.

Rickon giggled as he mimicked the swings and strikes of the practising soldiers. Alina tousled his unruly hair, a small smile playing on her lips. She cherished these moments of innocence amid the solemn duties that surrounded them.

As the training session continued, Alina's thoughts turned to the challenges that lay ahead. Lady Catelyn had left for something Alina was not privy to, and she had still not returned.

When the training concluded, Robb approached the two sat on the bench, wiping sweat from his brow. "Did you enjoy the show, Rickon?" he teased, tousling the young boy's hair.

Rickon grinned widely, nodding in excitement. "I'm gonna be a great knight like you!"

Robb chuckled, glancing at Alina. "He's got the Stark spirit, that's for sure."

Alina nodded, her gaze lingering on Robb. "But even great swords need rest, my lord. You've been working tirelessly."

Robb sighed, acknowledging the truth in her words. "There's much to be done, Alina, but you're right. Shall we?"

Together, they walked back towards the Great Keep, Lanna taking care of Rickon and promising to leave him with Old Nan who would tell him stories until he fell asleep.

As night descended, the castle was wrapped in a cocoon of tranquillity. Robb's chambers were warm, thanks to the hotsprings the Great Keep had originally been built upon. Alina, clad in a simple nightgown, sat by the fire, brushing her long, golden hair. Robb, in his customary northern attire, admired her from across the room, the flickering flames highlighting the warmth in his eyes.

"Your hair is like a cascade of sunlight," Robb remarked, crossing the room to join her. He took the brush from her hand and gently continued where she left off. The tender gesture spoke volumes, a silent reassurance in the simplicity of shared moments.

Alina smiled, appreciating the quiet intimacy. "It's one of the few things that haven't fully adapted to the North," she mused. "Still a bit of the Reach lingering."

Robb chuckled, his fingers delicately working through her hair. "A bit of warmth in the heart of Winterfell. I wouldn't have it any other way."

As the brushing continued, the room filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire. Robb's direwolf, Greywind, was lying on the floor, its back flush against Alina's legs. As if being near the two comforted him somehow.

With the brushing complete, Robb gestured toward the bed, its furs inviting in the soft glow of the hearth. "Shall we retire for the night, my lady?"

Alina nodded, rising from her seat. Robb had forgotten about their duties, and allowed himself to let Alina sleep in his chambers ever since Lady Catelyn left. There had been whispers, of course, and gossip among the guards and the servants, but Alina couldn't get herself to care.

They could say whatever they wanted to. Alina would soon marry Robb. They were just waiting for Alina to flower. She wondered if Robb's father and his sisters would attend their wedding. They were so far away in King's Landing.

And Alina's family. She wanted them at her wedding.

Robb extinguished the candles - leaving only the warmth of the hearth to dance across the room - pulling Alina from her thoughts.

Alina slipped beneath the covers, and Robb joined her, the furs enveloping them. The room embraced them with a sense of serenity, the weight of responsibility momentarily set aside.

As they lay side by side, Robb turned to Alina, his gaze filled with affection. "I'm grateful to have you by my side, Alina. In the quiet moments and the challenges that lay ahead."

Alina reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "And I, you, Robb. Together, we'll face whatever comes our way." In the stillness of the night, Alina found solace in the only person she thought finally understood her. 

Alina sat by the window of her chamber in Winterfell, her gaze fixed on the fading light outside as her handmaidens gathered around her. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room, but the warmth did little to ease the chill that had settled in her bones after the news they had received earlier that day. 

The door creaked open as Lanna entered, her usual cheerful demeanour replaced by a troubled expression. She took her place beside Alina, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair. Miya, another of Alina’s handmaidens, sat on a nearby stool, her hands folded in her lap. 

For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire and the faint whisper of the wind against the stone walls. The news from King's Landing had arrived in the afternoon, but its weight still lingered in the air like an unspoken fear. 

"It’s true then," Lanna said quietly, breaking the silence. Her dark eyes were wide with worry. "Lord Stark... imprisoned. Charged with treason. How could this have happened?"

Alina didn’t immediately respond, her mind still reeling from the letter Robb had received. She had always known the North was far from the intrigues of court, but now, with Ned Stark imprisoned in the Red Keep, it felt as though the very heart of Winterfell had been torn away. 

"King Robert is dead, and Lord Stark..." Alina trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The thought of him, the steadfast and noble Ned Stark, being accused of treason seemed impossible. Yet it had happened. 

Lanna wrapped her arms around herself, her voice trembling as she spoke. "If they’ve charged him with treason, what happens now? What will become of Robb and Lady Catelyn? And the girls..." She hesitated, fear clear in her eyes. "This could lead to war, couldn’t it?"

Alina’s chest tightened at the suggestion, her thoughts racing to the idea of battles, armies marching, and the bloodshed that could follow. She had seen enough during her brief time in Winterfell to know that Robb was capable of leading, but this was more than any young lord should have to face. 

Before Alina could respond, Miya’s voice cut through the room with a sternness that took them both by surprise. "Don’t speak such things into existence, Lanna." Miya’s eyes narrowed slightly, her hands clasped firmly in her lap. "We do not know what will happen, and it does no good to dwell on fears. There’s still hope - Lord Stark may yet be freed."

"Hope?" Lanna repeated, shaking her head. "How can there be hope when the king is dead, and Queen Cersei controls the capital? If Lord Stark is found guilty—"

"He won’t be," Miya interrupted, though her voice softened. "Not if the truth comes out. He’s an honourable man, and everyone knows it."

Alina listened to their exchange, her mind swirling with the gravity of the situation. She appreciated Miya’s attempt at calming Lanna’s fears, but she knew how precarious their position was. The Lannisters held all the power in King's Landing now, and Cersei Lannister would not hesitate to rid herself of anyone who stood in her way. 

“I saw how Queen Cersei looked at him when we were there,” Alina murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Her memories of the South, of the Red Keep, flickered to life — the queen’s calculating gaze, her thin smile. "She will not be merciful."

Lanna’s expression tightened, her fingers still fidgeting with her hair. "Then what can be done? What can we do?"

Alina’s gaze lifted from the fire to meet her cousin’s worried eyes. "We stay strong, Lanna. For Robb, for Winterfell, for each other." She said the words as much for herself as for her handmaidens. "Robb will know what to do. And Lady Catelyn, she will be back soon. We must be prepared for whatever comes."

"But what if it’s war?" Lanna whispered. 

Alina didn’t have an answer for her. Instead, she reached out and gently took Lanna’s trembling hands in her own. "Then we face it together. You’ve been by my side since we were children, Lanna. I’m not letting go of you now."

Lanna nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears, but Miya remained steadfast, her lips pressed into a determined line.

"We must trust in Robb," Miya said quietly. "He’ll protect us, and Winterfell. And we will protect Winterfell, too."

As the fire continued to burn low, Alina closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of her responsibility pressing down on her. She was not a Stark, but she had become part of this household, part of this family, in ways she never could have imagined. Now, she would stand with them, no matter what the future held.

[shingora]

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