#dolly looks like she about to cut a bitch

[angelixrr]

cw for fem!reader, yan!vees, noncon + dubcon, 4some, electrocution, manipulation, slighttt voxval if u squint REALLY hard

vox !

vox was by far the most insecure of the vees, and thus overcompensated for his insecurity by being overly possessive of you

would oftentimes drag you away from the other vees to take with you to meetings to show you off to shareholders, high ranking sinners and demons alike

his insecurities reared their ugly head whenever someone else happened to talk to you. be it friendly conversation or legitimate flirting, vox wouldn't spare either one, either dragging you away or having his security throw out the unlucky sinner

vox quite literally has eyes on you 24/7, has gifted you numerous pieces of voxtech technology, ranging from a phone, to a voxtech watch, and unbeknownst to you, he had you chipped after the two of you had drinks  he, n he slipped something into your drink to knock you out for a few hours

vox will give you anything you ask for, to not only showcase his wealth, but social standing and power. he's basically telling you through gifts that "no one else could do this for you, or would do this for you. i went through hell and back to get you this, you owe me"

vox is also the first of the vees to tighten his grip on your leash you're on if he feels as if you're getting too wild, too close to other people. he'll force a shock collar onto you, and then keep you confided either to his penthouse, or the vees's tower in his office

vox can be pacified really easy, acting obedient towards him really feeds his ego, and can make him go easier on you

valentino !

valentino is the least possessive of the vees, which isn't saying much, but he has the most confidence out of all of them so he doesn't worry much about you running away

really, he thinks you're lucky to have the attention of someone as powerful as him, the only time he ever really has an outburst is if you deny him

if you tell him no to accompanying him to a club, starring in a show, or being intimate with him behind closed doors, he will take it out on you, telling you that you should be grateful that he's been this nice, cut you so much slack when he's got all his other bitches on tight leashes. you're special to him, and he treats you so well compared to his other whores, so just shut the fuck up and take him

does tend to spoil you when you've been behaving particularly well, takes you out on the town into all the nightclubs that an ordinary sinner like yourself wouldn't dare go into.  takes you to the vip lounge and sits you on his lap to show off to anyone lucky enough to look at his favorite little bitch

absolutely loves to have you as arm candy, if he goes out 9 times out of ten hes begging vox or velvette to let you go with him, and if they tell him no, he gets huffy

loves loves loves to drape his wings over you and hold you close to him

blows smoke in your face. bc he’s mean and he sucks and that’s so hot of him

velvette !

velvette is by far the worst one to land the affections of, for what she lacks in power, she makes up for it in intellect 

she’s extremely cunning, and always makes you play directly into her hand, through manipulating you and others around you

will spread rumors between your staff about you selling someone out to an exorcist, or about you getting someone else fired, when really, it was velvette’s fault

will also manipulate your social media, since that is her specialty. she will boost your social standing if you play nice with her and behave, but if she thinks you’re out of line she will spread rumors and leak compromising images of you just to send you running back to her arms 

"aww, dollie what's got you in a tizzy? someone uploaded some nasty pictures of you? 'm so sorry darling, why doncha c'mere, i'll make you feel allll better" 

dresses you up practically every day, except when she's particularly busy, but even then, the night before she'll lay out clothes for you or organize a whole week’s worth of clothes. however, if she finds out that you didn’t wear anything she picked out for you, she throws a fit, and you’re guaranteed to be manhandled for the next week like her own personal dress up doll, with extra scandalous outfits to boot

if velvette feels like she hasn't gotten enough time with you, she isn't afraid to tussle with vox or val about it because she knows who's really pulling all the strings

loves to have you working for her, because she feels as if you’re the only one who really gets her. oftentimes she’ll have you working as her assistant, and mediating between her and her designers, or fetching her whatever she needs. she’ll also dress you up for the job, so she has some eye candy while she’s busy yelling at her incompetent staff. but, she loves it when you’re incompetent. when you do it, it’s cute.

posts you on her social media 24/7, wants to show you off to her audience. will cover you in black lipstick kiss marks, then take a selfie of the two of you, just to make sure all of hell knows who owns you

will oftentimes blow up on her current models and fire them, just to have you stand in for them, and have you scantily clad in front of her cameras.

nsfw

vox !

cuz vox is insecure af so he overcompensates for it in the bedroom, barely lets you do anything by yourself, wants to control everything

likes to use his hypnosis to make you do things that usually require a bit of persuasion. if you say that you’re scared of being electrocuted during sex, vox will put you under his mind control, and make you all docile so he can put a shock collar on you and fuck you while he electrocutes you. will remove his mind control halfway through fucking you dumb just so you can feel how good he makes you feel

likes to use sex toys on you, because he can override a lot of their factory settings to make the vibrations more powerful (to almost a painful extent)

can tie you up with his own wires, which will tingle n shock you slightly

valentino !

valentino is an exhibitionist through and through, it’s one of the reasons he runs a porn studio. will sometimes either demand you star in a show for him as a favor for all the nice things he does for you, or he will secretly record the two of you without your consent. just wants to show all of hell his favorite fucktoy

loves to degrade you and call you petnames, you’re his little conejita, his puta tonta, his favorite muñeca to use til he turns you into putty in his hands

is one of the more violent ones in the bedroom if you upset him, will choke you out and slam you against the floor if you tell him you’re tired. will fuck you no matter what you tell him

velvette !

velvette dotes on you in the bedroom, loves to have you all fucked out and teary eyed underneath her

her favorite thing is to eat you out until you’re overstimulated and crying, adores making you feel so good it hurts

uses you as stress relief if she’s having a frustrating day, will drag you into a changing room and make you kneel on the floor as her nails dig into your scalp to eat her cunt

whenever you’ve had a night with velvette it’s incredibly obvious, she will rake her sharp nails all over your body, and leave hickeys, bite marks, and lipstick stains all over you. adores marking you up for vox and valentino, just to remind everyone who’s really in charge

loves to use sex toys on you, from a cute pink n purple strap to a vibrator wand, not as mean as vox with them though. just wants to make you feel good til you’re a dumb mess under her

all !

even though the vees are competitive, vying for your attention 24/7, they do come together sometimes to mutually plan how to get you even more wrapped around their fingers

val n vox share you the most, they know what makes one another feel good, they're kind of a dastardly combo together 

you'll be taking vox's cock n then val will kneel in front of you expecting you to suck him off, but the moment you have his dick in your mouth, vox is pushing you all the way to val's fluffy groin, making you tear up and gag on his length

velvette n vox are also more likely to share you at once, but they work separately to make you feel good. vox will be fingering you, while velvette licks and sucks at your neck and chest, occasionally leaving harsh bites. 

velvette n valentino hardly ever share, but when they do its messy and competitive. they're practically fucking you til you see stars, seeing who can reduce you to tears the fastest and make you squirt the hardest. they're the meanest to you when together, calling you a dumb fucktoy, their useless whore, their favorite cumdump. won't hesitate to yank you away from each other. they just fight over you like two kids fighting over their favorite toy

when they're all together though, you're in for a longgg night. happens occasionally, just bc they're all so busy (andd sometimes they're too jealous to share). but when they're together they love to share you between them all. vox n val will use both your holes at once, while velvette kisses you n pinches your nipples til they turn red. they loveee to indulge themselves in their favorite plaything so they’re prone to overstimulating you. they will still use you even if you pass out, so you’ll be super sore the next day

[frost-queen]

To be truthful (Reader x Enoch O'Connor)

Requested by: anon Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @alex–awesome–22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Emma was finishing setting up the table with Fiona. Holding some of the plates, she tilted her head to look into the hallway. – “Didn’t I call for diner a minute ago?” – Emma said out loud, turning around to look at Fiona for confirmation. Fiona shrugged her shoulders, placing a bowl with fresh cut carrots on the table.

“Should I call again? Miss Peregrine insists upon punctuality.” – Emma rambled on, getting nervous that no one was coming through the door. Setting the plates down on the table she had made up her decision. – “I’m calling them!” – she made clear, holding her hands to her hip.

“You’ve just called.” – Fiona answered with a roll of her eyes. Emma was about to shout when Hugh and Claire came running in. Almost running Emma over with their game of tag. Fiona jumped in front of them to stop them before they would bump against the counter.

With her calm hands, she brought them to a stop. Both were panting loud. Fiona simply had to point at Emma then at the table for them to understand. Horace and Millard entered a moment later. Horace chattering loudly as he blindly went to his seat.

Olive and Enoch joined as well. Olive having a soft smile on her lips. They both went to their seats at the table. Emma looked into the hallway with a worried look. – “Where is Y/n?” – she asked. – “Didn’t you call her?” – Emma turned to Olive and Enoch. Enoch sat down, pulling his shoulders up.

“Do I look like her babysitter?” – he answered rudely. Olive gave him a little glare to not be so negative from across the table. Emma’s gaze fixed on the clock, knowing Miss Peregrine would arrive any moment for diner. It made her panic that you still weren’t here.

Enoch jumped out of his skin, startled as he gripped the edges of his chair with a tight grip once you had popped up behind him. – “Bloody hell Y/n!” – he cursed out that you had scared him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, coming to lean over his shoulder.

“Did I startle you Enoch?” – you asked sweetly as he pushed your grip off him. Groaning in annoyance. – “Good of you to join us Y/n.” – Miss Peregrine said entering the room. You quickly went to your seat right across from Emma. – “Good day Miss Peregrine.” – you all called out in unison as she went to sit at the head of the table.

“Fiona splendid work with the vegetables.” – she complimented. Fiona smiled sheepishly, leaning back in her seat rather bashful. – “Now shall we eat.” – she unfolded her napkin to lay it on her lap. The moment was set as everyone got in motion. Reaching for food, chatting and laughing away. From at the other head of the table, you noticed Enoch staring at you or rather glaring at you.

You moved a bit forwards so he could see your face fully. You returned his glare with a sweet smile. Enoch only narrowed his eyes more, swallowing hard. Olive gave him a nudge. – “Stop glaring.” – she whispered to him. Enoch exhaled soft, turning his head away. – “It’s okay Olive. I know Enoch means well.” – you told her with another smile.

Enoch clenched his jaw, trying not to freak out about that. – “Don’t make assumptions for me!” – Enoch replied. – “Why do you dislike Y/n so much?” – Horace questioned as everyone adored you. Enoch leaned a bit forwards. – “Stay out of it.” – he shout-whispered. Miss Peregrine observed from afar. When you turned your head, you caught up with her gaze. With a soft smile, she winked at you.

After diner, the youngest ones were free to play, while the older ones were left to clean the table. You started collecting plates, stacking them on each other. Emma stood by the sink, letting water down to start the dishes. You popped up beside her, giving her a soft fright. – “Goodness Y/n.” – Emma blurted out, one hand on her heart. – “Can’t you just walk. The table is right there.” – she pointed out at how close it was.

It would only take one a few steps to reach her. Yet you chose to teleport yourself beside her. – “Y/n likes to be special.” – Enoch mocked holding a few glasses. You teleported away from Emma, appearing behind Enoch. – “I like teleporting.” – you told him as he had jumped back. With a loud groan he handed the glasses over to Olive.

You started collecting the cutlery. – “Y/n.” – Emma said daringly with a warning finger to not pop up behind her. You puffed soft. – “You are no fun.” – you mumbled, walking up to her instead of teleporting. – “Satisfied?” – you asked dropping the cutlery in the sink. – “Very.” – Emma responded, patting you on the head.  – “Now help me.” – Emma took a towel, laying it on your head, having a laugh at it. You pulled it down.

Giving her a nudge with your hip against her to make some room. Emma started washing the dishes as you dried them. Olive and Enoch putting away the left overs into the fridge. Whilst Enoch was working, he couldn’t help himself but admire you. Gaze upon you and watch what you were doing. Olive noticed it, giving him a little nudge in the side.  – “You are staring.” – she whispered in his ear. – “I am not.” – Enoch grunted out.

He quickly averted his gaze, yet he kept being drawn to you. Emma and you were chatting whilst finished the dishes. Olive joined the two of you, putting the dishes away. Enoch cleaning the table. After cleaning, you immediately popped away. Emma shrugged her shoulders, leaving the room to head outside. Enoch left as well with Olive right behind him. – “Are you going to play with your dolls?” – she asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“Maybe.” – he responded, looking over his shoulder to her. A part of him wondered where you were. With a soft sigh, he went upstairs with Olive. Pausing almost at the top of the stairs, he saw you walk across the hallway to your room. There you were. Olive poked him in the back to move. Enoch got in motion, heading for his room as he couldn’t help himself but glance at your door. Olive noticed it, stopping to knock on your door. – “What are you doing?” – Enoch panicked.

“Asking if Y/n wants to join. Don’t you want that?” – she said having a sense of his feelings towards you. It had become clear to her for a while now that his act of dislike towards you was just a charade. A façade to hide behind. Enoch tugged his hands in his pocket, looking away. Olive knocked again as you hadn’t opened the door yet. Grabbing the handle, she opened the door. – “Y/n?” – she asked softly, popping her head inside.

To her surprise your room was empty. – “Must have teleported out.” – Olive let out, closing the door once more. With a smile, she returned to an almost sweating Enoch. – “Now you mustn’t worry. She’s not here.” – she teased, patting him against his shoulder. They entered his room as Enoch went to sit. A doll in front of him on the table. Olive picked up one of his tools, already presenting it to him.

“Thank you.” – he said accepting the tool. He started working on the doll. – “Enoch.” – Olive started, hearing him hum loud. – “You like watching Y/n do you not?” – she asked as he nearly had a heartache. With wide eyes, he dropped his tool. In shock turning round in his chair to her. – “What?” – he called out. Olive giggled amusingly. – “I’ve noticed you watch Y/n a lot from afar.” – she explained. Enoch puffed loud. – “I do not.” – he replied turning back to his doll.

“It’s alright Enoch, you mustn’t be frightened of it.” – Olive went on handing him another tool. – “Of what?” – Enoch answered bitsy. – “Of having feelings for Y/n.” – Olive finished. Enoch’s hand slipped as he broke a piece off the dolls porcelain chest. He turned around getting up. – “I do not have feelings for Y/n!” – he shouted as Olive was unimpressed. – “Enoch, just admit it. Why are you even scared to admit it?” – she asked. – “I don’t have anything to admit as it isn’t true!” – he made clear with a glare.

“Liar!” – Olive shouted back, having enough of him lying to himself. – “You like Y/n and you are too afraid to admit it.” – she started, poking him in the chest. – “So you better stop being so scared and let yourself love her!” – Enoch fell back in his chair with her sturdy poking in his chest. Speechless, he stared at her. He had never seen her speak so loudly or react so vibrant. – “So Enoch O’Connor, you are going outside, find Y/n and be nicer to her as a beginning.” – she ordered him, pointing firm at the door.

Enoch shook his head, not wanting to do it. Olive removed a glove, showing her hand that caught fire to him. – “Don’t make me burn your puppets.” – she threatened. Enoch stumbled out of the chair, sweating with shock as he rushed downstairs to do as he was told. Too afraid Olive might actually burn his puppets or himself for the matter if he didn’t act upon his feelings. Olive sniffed out the fire, having a satisfying smile on her face.

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[fairyk133]

Ruth Beautè

Minor facts:

Has a southern dolly accent, so American and sweet voice.

She was illegally emancipated, her mom and her went their separate ways when she came back from catholic school

She was homeless for two days until she met an old Italian man and took her in, making him a father figure onto her, but he died due to “loan sharks”, which was on her birthday, she owned the house all to herself ,and redecorated the whole house.

Her biggest secret was she was the daughter of the famous French Somalian actress Vivian Beau.

She is neurodivergent, and showed signs of Autism while growing up.

Loves 60s fashion, adores it, she is one of the most fashionable girls at school, even if her uniform does scream.. “50s church gal.”

She knows French, Spanish and the Somali language.

While Lola is called the Queen, and Pinky is called the Princess, Ruth is labeled the Duchess of Bullworth.

She plays electric guitar, Cello, Violin, Piano

The large rosary she wear is ACTUALLY disguised as a dagger, if you take off the silver cap of the bottom of the cross, and swing it, a sharp blade will come out. It was gifted from her past lover who died.

She calls people by their last names, which gives her a look of maturity and authority

When she’s harming a person (who deserves it) she gets violently annoyed when they start crying, she believes in equal punishment.

She works at a fancy restaurant in Old Bullworth Vale and gets tips either from lonely, weird divorced men or because she plays the violin well. The people who go to the restaurant are from rich families.

Knows Sign language thanks to her past lover. (Yes he was deaf.)

School Titles:

“Class Representative”, — Non Cliques/ People who respect or scared of her

“Villainess Nun”—Lola, Earnest

“Miss Beauty”— Jason (My Oc), Juri, Chad

“Babe Ruth”—Vance

“Doe eyes”— Vance, Gord

“Sociopathic Bitch”— Mandy, (Pre game) Gary, Earnest, Davis White

Mini Mrs.Peabody—(Pre game) Gary

Clique relationships:

Bullies: Ruth does like not bullying, at all. Considering her past lover died by suicide, because of bullying, she is a shadow dictator of the school. But, nonetheless she does use the bullies in her rule of authority. She pays them about 80 dollars to 50 in cash, to spill her the details on other students, specifically males, and to beat up perverts or anyone trying to roof girls drinks in parties. Most bullies are scared of her, but she does allow them to beat up Earnest, when she sees them attack him she turns a blind eye to it, considered later one she found out his…rather perverse picture of Mandy. (She may hate Mandy’s guts, but she’s a girls girl at heart.) Later on after her public trial with her mom, she ends up dating Tom. They actually first met bumping into one another, they had a goofy conversation, him mess in up on her last name, she liked him, but Joetta said she liked him so she killed her feelings for him immediately, only for it to fail and they end up being together.

Nerds: They see her as their, savior, at least some of them. She once saw Algie crying in a corner when she was coming from Chemistry class, and he complained to her about the jocks and their vile behavior towards him. This gave Ruth the idea for the Halloween party. She dressed up as Billy Loomis from Ghostface and seduced Casey Harris into the woods, leaving him there for awhile. Casey ended up seeing Algie’s fake dead body lying there, flies around him. It looked bloody, his stomach was cut open, which looked like the work of an axe. (Ruth gave Algie some sick looking makeup and a clay belly, and filled it with pig intestines to make it look like it was his actual organs, she even gave him some white contacts to give him that dead look). Ruth came out of the woods dressed up as the actual Ghost face, holding an axe. Before taking her mask off and yelling at him like a cinematic sociopath (she’s a good actor to be honest), he fell into a ditch, a deep one. Algie got up and revealed with Ruth to Casey he wasn’t dead, they saw his body in the ditch and left him there. (Casey also took spiked punch, so later that day, he couldn’t prove that Ruth’s a sadistic bitch.) She doesn’t like Earnest, not only he is weak, scaly, and a hypocrite, but mostly because of what he did to Mandy. Some of the nerds did want to turn on to her because she joined the soccer team and she looked more…”jockey” but she had to remind them of who she stood by, even if Earnest tried to make her seem like an villain of their midst. She uses the Nerds coding abilities to get into the teachers digital files and keeps an eye on her enemies grades and social media, along with their…dark pasts. Really dark. Some nerds even have crushes on her, so easy on her part.

Jocks: Due to their actions, Ruth sees them as, brainless animals. The weak ants to her. But, Mandy Wiles was an huge problem to her. Mandy was jealous of Ruth to most extent. Ruth has beauty, hell, her last name literally means beautiful, she’s smart in academics, getting complements from the Head, and the teachers. Mandy did try to befriend Ruth, but once she had showed her true colors by purposely tripping Bucky at lunch, Ruth immediately told her to stay the hell away from her. Mandy also made fun of Ruth for being a “virgin purist girl”(Internalized misogyny), so Ruth felt cheeky and mischievous , she exposed the fact Mandy had been with Jason….which wasn’t good to explain to Jason in the nurses office. And because Mr. Burton is weird and didn’t give a damn about Ruth’s feelings of being uncomfortable, Ruth’s soccer shorts were tight on her, showing her hips were more… wider than most girls and Ruth is a mostly modest person— so obviously this didn’t turn out so well. Wiles gave Ruth the nickname, “Ruth Bootay”. And because Ruth had a “purity” complex this gave her a deep state of discomfort and depression in how her body looks, even the male jocks talk about her body, which made her feel like a “hoe”, but that feeling went away fast when she realized she can ruin Mandy’s life by tormenting her back, you know— the norm? This was by telling girls what Mandy has said about them, isolating people she found close to her, ruining her face till she broke out by sneaking in her dorm, messing up face cream etc, getting help from her best friend Joetta, to write nasty articles on her, calling her whore, and snitching on her vaguely, claiming she was mentally ill, (Guys this is Bullworth, okay?) but sooner or later, they got their issues worked out when the Headmaster assigned them together to get their act together. Bo Jackson is the only chill guy she can stand, a few jocks stopped talking about her body when they knew who serious she was in soccer, along side Jason. (Soccer ain’t even her passion.)

Preps: Ruth gets respect from them because she handles her situations well in mock trial, she even won against Derby in many trials, which eventually leads Derby feeling considered of his title of being a Harrington, “they never lose”, this leads him to buy a win from the holder of that club, Mr. Hatwick, this makes Ruth have an internal hatred for him. He reminds her of “Donna” a girl from her past in catholic school, she’s also the reason why Ruth was ashamed to be rich in the first place. Due to superiority complex, Ruth and Derby weren’t the best at being civil with one another. Each room they were in gave tension, you’d need a chainsaw to cut that tension. Chad and Gord along with Parker had admitted into finding her attractive, but the guys do find her “scary” especially since she had made witnesses cry and have emotional reactions. Pinky and her had minor tension because of all the good things people said about her, but they are decent friends since Ruth also shops at Aquaberry from time to time, Parker did ended up dating her and that’s when Pinky and her both ended up getting closer as friends. Ruth has been invited to Harrington house over some club discussions, mostly to see Parker when they were together, and she wouldn’t mind playing the piano for them. Ruth in my roleplay saved Derby from Raymond Chester, a politician’s son, who was trying to get Derby’s Harrington name ruined, including his family, Ruth exposed them in a special event she was invited to, which made her and Derby be…somewhat decent.

Townies: She barely knew them, but she began to know a few of them, when she saw Jason hanging out with them, that’s when she knew about Jason a little more…the townies only become a serious topic when Ruth got fully and properly adopted by a sheriff, she asked them for clues and ask them what happened on things, since her present self is in her “riverdale” era and helps her foster moms cases. ;)

Greasers: Ruth at first they were just some Outsider/Grease wannabes, but couldn’t be hypocritical since she dresses like she’s from the 50-60s, she was sadly forced by the head to tutor most of them. She believes the most attractive greaser of them all isn’t really Johnny Vincent, but more so Ricky. But she doesn’t have a crush on him, just thinks that way. She and Vance get along fine, he’s helps her with guy troubles, and when I mean “guy” troubles, more so on Jason because of the fights they have on his…living situation. Vance and her poke fun at Ricky and Johnny sometimes, they act like annoying siblings to them sometimes. She ignores Lola and Johnny’s problems because their relationship isn’t worth any fixing or respect they don’t really intimidated her. Her rep is somewhat debatable with them, she doesn’t snitch on them if she sees one of them egging Harrington house. And since she has the preps moral respect, the greasers between trusting her, but soon they realize this girl really doesn’t give a damn and wouldn’t snitch on them, even when she got adopted by Miss Rodriguez.

Outfit models:

Based off of/ Mentality:

Beth Harmon - Queens Gambit

Blair Waldorf- Gossip Girl

[thebearmage]

Reborn - Five Hargreeves x Dolores - Chapter Two

Rated 18+/Mature.

TW: Coercion, mention of sex, attempt at rape 

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three - coming soon)

Chapter Two - Fight or Flight

“Dotty, honey! We got another beer at table three,”

Dolores massages her temples behind the bar before turning to face one of the older women in Mr. Higgin’s establishment, Rosa, with a tight smile. 

“Got it, Rosa,”

Dolores returns to the tap, takes a glass, and fills the pitcher. She watches the golden liquid fill the glass, her thoughts running just as fast. 

Eleven months, two weeks, two days. That’s how long Dolores has been working at this shithole. Mr. Higgins kept his promise; he gave Dolores food, shelter, and a steady income of cash, but it was not enough, not by a long shot, for Dolores to get her own place. 

Dolores hated it, every goddamn second of it. Mr. Higgins was ‘kind’ enough to let Dolores stay on waitress and bartending duties unless asked for specifically by a client. Those nights were the worst. 

“Just lay there and look pretty,” Rosa told Dolores one night after she returned from her first night with a customer, “They don’t want a partner. They want a toy. So, be the toy and get them off so you can be done,”

Even with her little social knowledge, Dolores knew it was wrong. She felt like a doll again: manhandled, squeezed, told what to do and how to act. 

“I am a real person…I am a real person…I am a real person…I am a-”

Dolores’ thoughts are cut off by the feeling of the beer overflowing onto her hand; she quickly wipes everything down before carrying the drink to the table, trying not to trip.

Mr. Higgins forced all the women to wear skimpy outfits that barely covered anything. Dolores wore a white crop top over a black lace bra that everyone could see, tight jeans shorts, matching lace panties, and white Stiletto heels. 

Dolores had no idea how other women could walk in these hell shoes. 

Teetering slightly, Dolores makes it over to the table and serves the man his beer, but as she turns away, she feels a sharp smack right on her butt. 

“Hey!” She cries, angered, “What the fuck!?”

She turns to find him leering up at her in a very lewd and unashamed way.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. It just looked so appealing. Lighten up.”

Dolores feels her face twist into a scowl, but knowing this job was all she had, she holds back, actually biting her tongue to keep herself from talking. 

“Is that everything, gentlemen?” she says, trying hard to keep her face in check.

“Not quite,” said the man, “Why don’t you come and spend some time with me. All work and no play makes-” he squints at her nametag, “-Dot a dull girl.”

“No, thank you,” she says stiffly.

“Oh come on, girl,” The man bites his lower lip, “You’re asking for it, come on, spend a night with Daddy,”

Dolores tries not to vomit but lets her disgust show on her face, “Ugh, fucking gross,” she starts to walk away.

“Hey!” The man gets up, “I’m talking to you, bitch!”

Dolores turns around, “Yeah? Well, I’ve taken your order and served your drink, so this discussion is over,”

The man fumes, “Oh you fucking-” he reels his hand back to slap Dolores, but another hand stops her. Mr. Higgins.

“Now, now, son,” He grins, “Hands off the merchandise. I have a special customer looking forward to seeing her tonight; I don’t need that milky skin marked up now, do I?”

Dolores folds her arms over herself, tray under her arm, trying to seem smaller. Higgins didn’t value any of his workers as people; they were just pretty cash cows for him to exploit. He talked about the girls as if they were works of art for him to sell off to the highest bidder. Or, more accurately, pieces of meat.

“Go get ready, dolly,” Higgins orders Dolores, “Your man will be here soon,”

Dolly. That fucking nickname. Dolly or Doll. Dolores hated that name with a burning passion; just hearing it sent waves of fury curling in her gut. It takes all she has not to hit Higgins around the pudgy face with the tray in her hands. 

Though the thought has helped her sleep many nights. 

“Sure,” she responds, before walking away to get ready. 

By getting ready, she means taking everything but her bra and panties off and waiting for the guy in her room. It was so different from before, where he would wrap her up in layers of clothing to ensure she was warm, that she’d survive. Now, Dolores was actively removing her precious clothing to appease a man in almost the same way. 

“Wait, what guy am I even thinking about? When did this happen?” She shakes the thoughts away and reapplies her makeup before sitting on the bed. “You can do this. Just be the toy for a few hours, get the extra money, then go home,” Dolores tells herself, “Be the toy. Get the money. Be the toy, get the money,”

It doesn’t take long for the man to knock, and Dolores looks up, “Enter,”

The man was tall and older, maybe in his mid-40s, with graying black hair and brown eyes. He wore a three-piece suit and matching fedora. He looked fucking ridiculous, like a wannabe prohibition-era gangster. It amused Dolores as well as disgusted her. 

Dolores puts on her best fake smile and greets him, running a hand up his arm, “Heya, baby, how can I be of service tonight?” The man breathes a sigh of relief and instantly wraps his arms around Dolores's middle, “Oh baby, the list of things I wanna do to you tonight,” he whispers into her ear. Dolores could smell the beer and tobacco on his breath, “I got a list,”

Dolores giggles, “We’ll show me, mister, and we can discuss it,”

The man looks at Dolores, “Discuss? No, no, no, I’m doing all of these…” he pulls out a folded list and lets it fall open in front of Dolores’s face, “...to you tonight,”

Dolores scans the list, and the alarm bell rings in her head. Not even two words down, and she’s already seen one of her hard nos.

Anal Fisting 

“Oh fuck,” Dolores tries to smile again, “Baby, limits and boundaries must be discussed,” she laughs awkwardly, “Otherwise, I’m going to have to turn you away,”

The man’s grip on Dolores tightens, eyes full of lust due to her fear and smile predatory, “Did you not hear me, babe?” he asks, “I said ‘I’m doing all of this to you,”

He pushes Dolores backward, causing her to trip on her heels and sprawl out onto the bed, and she scrambles to get away, only for the man to grab her arm and force her under him. 

“Come on, baby, you’ll love it, I promise!”

“HIGGINGS!” Dolores screams, “HIGG-” The man claps his hand over Dolores’ mouth, “Shh, shh, shh. No, no, baby, we’re going to have fun,”

The man moves his free hand down to Dolores’ panties, and something within her…clicks. 

Without thinking, Dolores grabs one of her shoes and jams the heel right into the man’s ear. He cries out as blood spurts from the busted eardrum as Dolores rolls off the bed and onto the floor. 

“What the fuck!??” The man shouts, blood leaking through his fingers as he holds his ear, “You fucking psycho! You busted my ear!”

The man attacks again, but Dolores blocks his three hook punches before jabbing the man in the kidney once…twice…thrice before punching him square in the jaw.

The man drops like a rock, crumpling to the ground with Dolores standing over him with a bloody shoe. 

Hearing the commotion, Rosa bursts into the room, “What in the blazes is going on-”

She cuts herself off, seeing the prone man and Dolores. 

“Honey?”

Dolores was panting, her eyes wide as she stared at the man, the shoe, then back at him.

“What the hell…?” she mutters, sitting on the bed, “What the hell!?”

“Dotty, what happened!?” Rosa drapes a robe over her, “Did…did he try something?”

Dolores nods, “He tried…” she takes a harsh breath to keep the tears from spilling, “...he tried to rape me, Rosa,”

Rosa gasps softly, “Oh baby,” she hugs Dolores, and the younger woman breaks down in her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. 

The other girls, hearing Dolores’ sobs, come in and crowd around, one sitting on Dolores’ other side and rubbing her back. Rosa mouthing the word ‘rape’ to them had them all gasping in horror. 

They all start whispering encouragement and comfort to Dolores, one girl gently petting her hair while another rubs her back. They all stayed with her until her sobs turned to sniffles. 

One goes to get Mr. Higgings, and the unconscious man is dragged out. Another makes tea, and the girls stay with Dolores. They talk about random things—how their day was, comments about the men who remained at the bar too long—until Dolores is ready to speak. 

Dolores tells them the story, all of it: him coming onto her, her saying no, him insisting, throwing her on the bed. 

“It’s like I…snapped,” Dolores holds her head, “I just…suddenly knew what to do,”

“Maybe it was an old memory springing forth,” Jenny, a waitress, says, “You said you lost your memory, right?”

Dolores nodded, remembering the cover story she had told the girls when it became clear that Dolores didn’t know things that would typically be common knowledge. 

“Maybe you were some kickass cop-in-training or something,” Cassy, the bartender who’d initially served Dolores her first night, comments, smiling, “That would be cool!”

Dolores, despite knowing it wasn’t true, laughs, “Yeah, maybe,” she sighs, “I just hate when I’m forced to be a toy for them,” Dolores rests her chin on her hand, “I’m not��into it, as one would say,”

Jenny thinks for a moment, “Dotty, have you ever considered being on top?”

“Top?” Dolores sniffs, “Top of what?” Cassy laughs, “Top of others, silly! You know women don’t always bottom, right? Why not be the one who's in control? That way, you could hit men - which you're clearly good at - AND they'd pay you for it,”

“Yeah, yeah!” The second bartender, Myra, adds, “Oh my god, Dotty. That’d be perfect for you! You seem to do better when you’re in control, and I know quite a few men who love being dominated by women,”

Dolores looks around, seeing that all the women agree, “But I…I wouldn’t know how…I’ve never,”

“Oh girl, no one does it at first,” Cassy scoffs, “Here, little secret…” she leans in as if to whisper, hand by her mouth, “I moonlight at a club…” she pauses as if looking for eavesdroppers, “...a sex club, downtown! They cater to all kinds of people there! I bet one of their experts can teach you a thing or two! Maybe you can even get a job!”

Dolores feels hope surge in her chest, “...Really?”

Cassy hits her arm, “Yeah, girl! Tell you what, I'll get you an interview, and then you can hook the rest of us up when you get the green,” Cassy cheekily rubs her fingers together, “Deal?”

Dolores nods, beaming, “Deal!”

The girls squeal and all hug her, Rosa looking at the group fondly. 

»»————　★　————««

Dolores walks briskly down the city streets, dressed in the attire Cassy helped her pick out. She hasn’t said anything to Higgins in case this doesn’t work out. 

Dolores was nervous; she’d never done an interview before. The girls helped her practice, but it became clear Dolores knew nothing, so they had to run her through standard social practices. 

The only thing they told her to do was be there early. Her interview was at three p.m., and it was currently two forty. She would have to sprint to get there at least ten minutes early. 

Dolores was in such a rush that she didn’t notice when she ran smack-dab into a man. His coffee, luckily, only hit the concrete instead of their clothes. 

“Shit!” he curses, backing up, “Watch it!”

Dolores pants, looking at the man. He was shorter, with black hair that fell over his green eyes, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking. I…”

Dolores looks around to see the C.I.A. building right next to them. The man has clearly started walking up the stairs, crossing her path. 

“Oh fuck, I ran into a C.I.A agent,” she curses herself, “I’m so sorry, I have an interview and I…”

The man holds out his hand, “It’s okay,” he smiles politely, “I have one today, too. I get it,”

Dolores gets a better look at the man. His hair was shorter but just tickled his nape in a way that said he was growing it out. He wore a three-piece dark gray suit with a white button-down. He had a sharp, handsome jawline and a slightly hooked nose, and he was looking at her with a little line between his furrowed eyebrows. His posture was professional and tall, speaking wonders about his confidence.

Dolores smiled, “He’s kinda cute,” she couldn’t help but think before shaking it off, “I’d offer to get you another, but I really have to go,”

The man shakes his head, still smiling, “No need. Good luck, by the way,”

“You too,” Dolores smiles before brushing past him, “Have a good day!”

The man starts up the stairs, sending her a wave. Dolores hurries the remaining block before reaching the building.  It was a giant black house with a rather intricate staircase leading to giant black wooden doors. It looked odd with the city buildings on either side, but Dolores liked it. 

With a shaking hand, she knocks on the door. After a moment of waiting, a younger man with bleached white hair, eyeliner, a band T-shirt, black skinny jeans, and Converse opens the door. 

“Dolores Smith?” he asks, smiling when Dolores nods, “Alright! Come on in!”

Dolores takes a breath before stepping inside, following him, “Here we go,”

[thecollectionsof]

acacia forgot:

i love her playing around in the water

acacia forgot because she forgets. love it

country music ! okay cool

musical gal woah

inspired by dolly, as we all are

gives irene vibes a little

arrietty:

i mean her makeup?? gorge

she does drag because it’s fun!! what a nice answer !!!

“what makes me different is a lot 👍”

i like when queens make themself laugh

i know rachel loves her so i’m excited to see her :)

crystal envy:

love the movement of the look

spikes! on her ears

her talking about how chris -> crystal is phonetically pleasing? i love hearing how queens come up with their names

hormona lisa:

cute pink hair, more subdued look compared to the others though

also playing in the water !!!!

more pink! more pink in the interview !!

she’s a southern queen and she looks like a southern queen

“went to art school. didn’t finish :)”

congrats on the good credit score!

WOAH she has degrees

i like how she’s making little jokes

“i don’t know how we got here” / “you’re the interviewer!”

jewels sparkles:

the look is MEMORABLE and gorgeous

So You Think You Can Dance

not calculated enough to be a bitch is funny and i enjoy it

COMPETITIVE PANTOMIME ????

i would love a latina winner let’s do it jewels

joella:

BRIGHT colors compared to the others

i think josephine as a drag name is fun but joella definitely feels more ~drag~

okay no spiders but what question did they ask to get that answer

i like when they they talk about what season they started watching

kori king:

not blue! love a different take on it

kinda looks like a ru look

i love the little run she did

WELCOME BACK TO THE PIT STOP i love her already

everyone is shaped like a wisdom tooth ??? heard

her asking for the mirror …. iconic

queen for the people “you just have botox you’re not a bitch!!”

i fuck with her so hard i think she’s my early/mtq fave

lana ja’rae

very spikey

she looks like a fish in this look 🐟

it’s supposed to be lingerie…. i thought it was lana del ray too

she is beautiful

i don’t think i’ve ever heard putting on lashes as a favorite part of drag before but i like that answer

her being like :) i’ve never lipsynced before in her life (hehe) like that was so sweet

scared of michelle because michelle is mother

“i wanna do this. and i did it ! :)”

she was supposed to be a mechanical engineer ?? like woah!!?!!!!! :0

lexi love:

kerri would wear that wig (and probably also be all silver no clothes now that i think about it) but the wig is giving kerri to me

cute and playful and fem name. and that comes across

“i convinced them that i should be naked :)” that you did lexi

i like how she covered the chair to be silver like she is

lucky starzzz

fish in a different way!! 🐠

i like all the dangling pearls

“doing absolutely wretched. feeling very wet”

i added zzz because i’m tired

“you thought mhi’ya was the queen of flips? just wait :) (just kidding)” i enjoyed that

she keeps saying wet. like it is water but how wet will it actually be

oh she got paper cuts :( ow

lydia b kollins

i like her look :)

spiky and chin jewelry. good

“maybe a little smooching :) we’ll see what shakes down”

the b stands for butthole. got it

“pittsburgh is full of grimy little freaks”

feels very c-u-n-t right now

puppets !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she likes puppets !!!!!!!!!!!!

“if You have something to say about me ….. that’s none of my business” (iconic!)

onya nurve

raincoooooat

also mohawk with long braid?? neat

it’s a good name

i get the mother/aunt vibe from her and i’m excited to see it in the season

sam star

holy shit gorgeous dress

she has bubbles on the dress!! 🫧!!!!!!

i wanna look at her hair a bunch

alliteration is appreciated

also country but all the southern/country queens are doing it in a different way

versatile: sing dance act … sew? hopefully?? i wonder who from this cast can’t sew

suzie toot

i like the way the train moves through the water

the little jog back was cute :)

“fort liquordale i’ve been told it’s called”

“it wasn’t a tribute as much as it was theft” iconic

“britney spears is my main style icon :) ….. i’m lying :)”

the suzie toot-iverse

“there’s math in sewing :o :( eugh??”

i like her !

[thewickedbohemian]

Thoughts on SHMT and Elsbeth now that they're a "double act" for what I hope will be the first of many seasons to come

So Help Me Todd

Love the life imitates art opening with Beauty Secrets Murder

Susan gorgeous as usual but almost unrecognizably so, and what's she doing hanging out with Beverly

Speaking of unexpected guests hello again very-gay-seeming weatherman

Of course that's Lyle's mom and I sense a bit of a parallel here

Love the color-coding-clothing with Jacqueline in bright red and Margaret in pale blue

THANK YOU SOMEONE SAID IT ABOUT LYLE'S DAMN MUSTACHE!

Lyle having musical talent, not as surprising as you'd think

Okay and now the photoshoot, Susan's too good a girl to get Sansa Starked like that

It's not just a parallel, it's a Leonard-Sheldon situation where Lyle and Todd are similar-vibed to each other's mothers (Todd and Jacqueline both have kind of an ego and a tendency to treat life like they're living some dramatic story)

Speaking of the story-awareness stuff not Jacqueline not only looking to the camera when talking about story structure but making ghost jokes when Ghosts is SHMT's lead-in and Allison's hair makes her look like Sam

I don't know what you'd call that trope with everyone's accounts of the situation cutting back and forth but adding to each other's sentences but I saw some post praising it and here it is here.

Still would love a musical episode but of course Lyle played the cello

second episode out of the five-so-far-this-season with Phantom Of The Opera vibes and not just because actual opera this time

nice meta-self-burn Todd

In both what's left of this season and a *crosses fingers* potential S3 there's two ways Susan's arc could go and I know which one I'd prefer

Margaret seems to have learned her lesson from Jacqueline and Magda with treating her assistant nicely

And Allison continues to be fucking relatable

Elsbeth

Hello Dolly meet hello high-maintenance

most blinding diamond I've ever seen or is that just the lighting

Not two time-jumps before we even get to the actual story story

Okay so "let's go steal a husband" (and murder him apparently)

Stimming with a Newton's Cradle, could they make it any more obvious she's neurodivergent

Good call on the rug there girl

Does everyone rich (at least in that area) just have their houses half windows

show tune needle drop, now that's something you don't see every day

not Elsbeth sounding like Flynn talking about liking certain words or w/e

I know she's the bad guy but please tell me Margo wasn't being ableist calling Elsbeth simple

The way both these shows just have Divas^TM with Standards^TM (Elsbeth made it look cute, Lainey didn't have to call her office a jail cell)

So they've finally figured out what the audience already knew about Margo (and kinda insulted people from Jersey along with it)

Was Kaia really picking up on Elsbeth's Clue references to call her Mrs. Peacock or did I misread the social context

OK so the digital window thingie also works as a viewscreen

You faked a man's identity I [as in her] faked a hair color we are not the same

Get got by a knockoff bitch

So Elsbeth and Kaia actually are "gala gals" after all (and both in equally quirky dresses) and not saying I'd ship them age gap yada yada and girls can be just friends but that whole you came moment did feel a little ship-coded (as well as Elsbeth being her Manic Pixie Dream Girl basically)

Ooo mythology oh boy Captain Wagner getting wise and making me fear for the show's future

[wvbaandtheboys]

[Mane Event belongs to the wonderful @sukipershipper​ love and hate this wonderful yet awful bitch you have created Suki] “Darling.” Dollie Darling paused in the corridor. She knew that voice all too well. No reply came from her. “...Lemme talk to you for a minute.” Mane Event’s voice was filled with nothing but pure disdain for Dollie. This didn’t surprise Dollie at all, however. Mane, or Becky as her name was, was known for bickering and belittling every single girl in the Women’s Division. With her sharp tongue and even sharper insults that cut deep, she was certainly someone Dollie could admit she didn’t exactly favor. “I know you think you’re hot shit.”  Dollie heard Mane walking towards her from behind, feeling the envy in her movements with every step of her heavy boots. But still, Dollie did not respond in any manner. Didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t make any sort of sound. Just stood there. “I know you got fans that drool over you like dogs. I know you slap on a pound of makeup every day to make yourself look like that. I know you’ve got everything handed to you on a silver platter...” She felt Mane’s glare burning into the back of her head. She had to have been just arms distance from Dollie. “...and you just gotta sit there and take it like the pretty little doll you are.” ...Dollie had to admit that the distaste in that last phrase did bother her a bit. She made no effort to show this, only moving her eyes to glance behind her. That porcelain mask that Mane wore on her face, fractured yet held together by tape with a cartoonish grin, made her disgust at Dollie’s status all the more menacing.  But Dollie wasn’t afraid of Mane. Not one bit. “You’ve got one of the shiniest fucking records in the whole division. Everyone knows that you haven’t lost a single match in years.” Mane’s voice was starting to lose its intimidation (well, if you want to call it intimidating.) Genuine rage was starting to seep out of her words. And yet, Dollie stood still and kept listening. “But guess what?” Dollie heard no movement. All of a sudden, the other woman was right next to her ear, speaking lowly. “Your days are numbered.” Dollie felt a bit of a chill of surprise go down her spine. She genuinely didn’t expect that. Her expression didn’t change, neither did her body language. However, she did turn her head slightly to look at Mane, eyes just as hollow as usual. Despite the eye holes in the other boxer’s mask being somewhat shadowed, she could have sworn she saw Mane’s eye twitch. “You’ve got a playdate comin’ up, baby doll. And you’re playin’ with me.” Dollie internally felt disgusted at the flagrant audacity Mane exhibited. She sounded so confident that she’d ruin her, with just one match. This woman, who had intended to and even brought down shining stars with her own ego, was so hellbent on beating her... that she came just to taunt her ahead of time. How despicable. Mane even had a poster on her of the promotional material, which she waved with an impudent look in her eyes. Honestly, it did upset Dollie internally as well. She never wanted to fight Becky. Ever. “Here. Since I’m feelin’ nice, I’ll give ya this copy. I think it’s a perfect gift for the oh-so beloved Dollie.” Mane handed over the poster, nonchalant to her own snide comment as if she hadn’t said such a thing. Dollie took a moment before she reached out and took it, still not saying a word to the other woman. Mane snickered to herself. “You haven’t said anythin’ since I got here. What’s the matter? Got nothin’ to say?... Or are you just bein’ the silent freak everyone knows you are?” Dollie twitched. It was hardly visible, but she did twitch. That remark... it got to her. “Oops. Sorry. Never knew that actually bothered you. You’re so creepy that sometimes everyone forgets that you have feelings.” Mane laughed a little bit at her own comment, sounding as patronizing as ever. But even then, the envy and rage was still palpable. “Well, ya got a few days to think about our fight before it happens. I’d say ya should make it count...” Mane stepped closer. She leaned into Dollie’s ear once more, the anger overpowering her egotistical tone. “’Cause when that bell rings and you step up to me?”  “I’m gonna break you. No... I’m gonna shatter you.” Dollie’s eyes glanced away from her. There was no trace of something even remotely comparable to a joke, or a taunt in that sentence. That was a threat. “Oh yeah. And after I’m done demolishin’ that pretty porcelain face of yours... little Dollie’s gonna get thrown out.” Dollie would have wanted to be shocked. But she expected something like this. Mane and her had something in common. They were both broken dolls, different from others in their own ways. However, Dollie's outlook on fame was nothing compared to Mane’s.  Mane outwardly lusted over the idea of being famous. It was like she romanticized it in her own head: having people scream your name and cheer you on, thousands upon thousands of people looking at her, and only her. Like she was the apple of their eyes.  Dollie hated her fame. If she could do anything to get the spotlight off of her, she would. But the light hanging above her head was restrictive, almost captivating. Something that she couldn’t escape. She had to live with a reputation she despised. 

“...You got me, freako?...” She nodded her head. Even if secretly, deep down, she wanted to beat the living hell out of Mane right here and right now. “...Heh. Good.” Mane leisurely pulled away, turning to leave.  “I’m lookin’ forward to our game, baby doll. I’ll see you in the ring.” With that, Mane’s figure faded back into the darkness of the hallway.

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Fourteen: Mr. Pinstripe Suit Pt. 7

 “Envy, just how fast can you run?” Freddy looked at Envy as they made a massive progress on the monster proportioned parfait.

 “Oh Face Fur, I can easily outrun you if you tried to run from me with plenty more of asskicking in store should that be the case.” Envy glared at Freddy, thinking Freddy was about to dine and dash on them.

 “Bitch that’s not it, I’m asking cause when you have to pose as me, you are going to want to run fast when my rage filled Lobster Man Father comes to town, he’s going to break out the damn pinchers.” Freddy's voice shook in fear for Envy’s own wellbeing at this point as he tried to convey JUST how bad the situation was. 

 “What exactly do you mean the pinchers are coming out?” Envy for a change didn’t attempt to attack Freddy for calling them a ‘bitch’ as they monitored their favorite Face Fur to torment.

 “Fun fact, Joel can break a tree in half with his bare hands alone, that’s why we call them Joel’s pinchers. Thankfully you’ll be disguised as Freddy, so it’ll likely be a shrill screaming fit and possibly getting cut off from the family account for a few months. However, if you’re in this disguise or come in front of him as yourself, you’re going to want to run. He’ll come at you with something worse than the lamp post.” Dolly explained calmly as she shared her peppermint stick sundae with Dorian.

 “The hell did you do to these humans to make them so insane?” Envy nearly choked on their parfait after being given that explanation of what to expect should Joel show up. “The Witch Hunts back in the day traumatized everyone, so I think that was the main culprit. Though, it would be very KIND of you if you’d just tell my Dad you were the one to order that travesty of a dessert so I won’t lose my access to the family account.” Freddy chimed in as he ate his strawberry ice cream slowly as he hoped Envy would be in their horrid gremlin form just so he can see Envy run from a Lobster Man.

 “Okay Face Fur, have it your way, I’ll be myself and tell your mutant father that I ordered the parfait. I’m not afraid of some little human that happens to turn red when angry.” Envy glowered from their half way devoured parfait. 

 “Lust, I’m hungry, when can I go get something to eat?” Gluttony asked before resorting to his coping mechanism of chewing on his knuckles.

 “Aww don’t fret buddy, I’ll be taking you to the morgue after this. It’ll be like an all you can eat buffet there!” Envy had a smug look to their face after fully recovering from their moment of shock. 

 “I’ll be sure to distract Joel then to give you a proper running head start then Envy.” Dolly offered as she enjoyed her sundae with Dorian. “Whatever, at least my blood isn’t going to be the flavor of marzipan from the sugar intake you’re having.” Envy smirked as they finished the parfait of forlorn and sat back to relax. “I dunno, I think I’ve flown past the marzipan flavoring and straight into the buttercream instead.” Dolly mused a bit, causing Envy to chuckle at the comeback that was given.

 “Envy, you’re one to talk with that beastly sized parfait you demolished in one sitting.” Freddy rolled his eyes a bit at Envy’s little commentary.

 “Shapeshifting burns a lot of calories, you really need to keep up with the details there Face Fur.”  Envy retorted with a snort before just relaxing, not even taking the horrors of Joel seriously.

 Sitting smugly and content, Envy felt like they had won. Sure they didn’t get to murder their bastard father and would have to face some supposed lobster-human hybrid, but that didn’t matter to Envy. They got Dolly and Dorian back without having to spend a lot of energy or man power, that was the two only things that mattered to Envy. Around the table, Lust had been comforting a hungry Gluttony while Hughes had returned to his normal skin tone, enjoying some ice cream to cool his body down. Freddy, smug about throwing Envy under the tracks, was giving concern looks from Dolly, still very much worried about the potential fallout that’ll likely come after the parfait. It was just a silly little matter in Envy’s eyes, a human couldn’t possibly be a threat to a mighty homunculus like Envy, so why even worry? Though Envy wouldn’t admit it, at that moment, they wondered if this was what it was like having a family to call their own. Though, Freddy was basically the annoying family pet in the whole hierarchy in Envy’s mind for this family dynamic. The good feeling didn’t last though as the odd yet painful feeling returned when they looked at Hughes who had joined Lust in comforting Gluttony. If having a group to call their family was supposed to feel good, then why did it hurt so badly when Hughes was there? 

=======================================================================

 It had been a week since the survivors of Tir Na Nog had settled living in a cave after arriving in Xing. To them, the thought of having to pay to live in a house was an absolutely dystopian nightmare in their eyes after being brought up in a free housing society. The soft hums and twirls of the salvaged equipment sang inside of the cave as Tinne clanked his forging hammer against the heated metal. They were orders by Cuilleann, who sat by the campfire with Muin as a bodyguard outside of the cave, displeased with the entire scenario that had befallen her kind. Victoria, Gef, and Ngetal had gone to scavenge for food sources since like the housing, these madmen humans had too expected payment for it as well. Duir and Ruis had been at work maintaining the equipment and monitoring for any signatures from the lost Gort. Cuilleann let out a soft growl of annoyance as there were no signatures of Gort whatsoever and she was growing tired of this waiting game. What sort of queen goes about existing without using magic at all? It angered Cuilleann as she gripped her sword tightly, tempted to heat the metal up to go slash at the waters close by. Muin quietly watched the designated leader with caution, mentally preparing herself to take down Cuilleann if she posed a threat to everyone in the group. 

 “Cuilleann, I’m almost done with the forging the claymore. I don’t understand why that was even necessary in the first place.” Tinne held the in process claymore for Cuilleann to inspect.

 “Any Queen let alone another Dullahan isn’t worth their weight in salt if she can’t fight me in Queen’s combat. I will accept Gort as our Queen if she can best me in combat.” Cuilleann snarled as she twisted her sword in the ground.

“Wait, you think Gort is a Dullahan because of Victoria? Gort’s a Dobhar Chu like Duir and I.” Tinne raised an eyebrow as he checked the sword for the length.

 “Damn it! Is that sword even going to be big enough for Gort to handle then?” Cuilleann looked at the claymore to make sure it’ll be of massive size suitable for a Dobhar Chu.

“This should be the right size, Gort was always on the small side for a Dobhar Chu.” Tinne felt satisfied with the length of the claymore as he went back to the makeshift forge.

 “So I’ll be expecting a six foot tall Dobhar Chu, close to my height then.” Cuilleann felt a bit relieved that the fight will be evenly matched now that the claymore was confirmed to be the correct height for the intended wielder. 

 Tinne shook his head a bit at the response as he went back to work on the claymore. A part of Tinne had hoped that Gort had reached at least the normal short height of six feet rather than the strongly possible fact of Gort being smaller than that. Gort was after all the runt of the entire batch for the Autumn Mist District and was an abnormality for a Dobhar Chu to be so small. Muin lifted her head up as she saw movement in the distance, standing up to get a better view of the returning food scavenging party. Cuilleann let loose a soured face when she noticed that the protein they were to have was just a mere small rabbit. It was completely pitiful to be dining on berries and a small rabbit when Muin took up arms when she noticed a small figure following behind the party. Gef, Victoria, and Ngetal stood still when they saw Muin come charging with the intent of apprehending the threat. It wasn’t much of a fight as Muin, disappointedly lifted up a small human child who was flailing about at suddenly being picked up like that. 

 “Great, we got a larval stage human.” Muin grimaced at the sight of the child who had stopped flailing and started trying to get kicks in before getting held arms length away.

 “Woah, so that’s what a mini human looks like?” Ngetal asked as they looked at the small apprehended human.

 “Muin, we don’t have to hold the human like that, it's rude.” Gef went to take over handling the child from Muin who was more than happy to hand over the little bundle of adolescent rage. 

 “So…Gef you’re better at language, you talk to the little larval human.” Muin decided to leave the handling of the human to Gef, heading back to the campfire, a very alarmed Cuilleann being present at the sudden human intrusion.

 “Fine, but my Xingese is rather rusty.” Gef went to attempt to speak to the child who scrunched his nose up at the really old Xingese being used.

“Do you speak Amestrian? I’m fluent in the Amestrian language.” The child responded, catching everyone off guard with the surprisingly adult vocabulary that came out of his mouth.

 “How delightful, yes, we can speak Amestrian.” Gef switched over to Amestrian, glad that one thing was going to be made easy for him.

 “Gef, I thought it was called English?” Victoria whispered, being caught off guard.

 “Not in this plane of existence it is.” Gef whispered right back.

 “So..are you like the secret band of cannibals that live in the cave?” The child began to ask, eying the cave home situation everyone was living in.

 “No? What gave you the idea about us being cannibals?” Ngetal gave a bit of a perplexed look upon hearing the little accusation. 

 “Cause you have a scary looking lady by the fire.” The child pointed out Cuilleann who was now making her way over to the group.

 “Who is the little meat bag larva you brought into the Liberation Cave of Freedom?” Cuilleann interrogated right away.

 “Lady, that’s a really lame name for a cave.” The child responded, earning an offended gasp by Cuilleann.

 “I’ll have you know that the Liberation Cave of Freedom is a very suitable name compared to your weird human custom of paying to live in a house. We don’t have to pay a dime to exist here and we’re proud of our arrangements.” Cuilleann held her nose up proudly at her supposedly better living situation over the humans.

“If you say so lady, but you do realize that the cave gets flooded during this time of year, right?” The child gives the group of weirdos a look of pity of living in the very easily flooded cave of forlorn.

 “You’re lying, right? All you humans ever do is lie…right?” Cuilleann was taken aback by the revelation that floods were indeed a very real thing and not some boogeyman story told to young aslings into behaving better.

 “Fine by me if you want to live in the cave, but my entire clan has lived here for many centuries and knows what the rain cycle is like here. I can promise you as a fact that the cave is going to flood and it’ll be a spectacularly flooded disaster if you don’t move to higher grounds. If you don’t want to be flooded, I can offer you a place at my home, but you’ll have to serve my family from now on and be part of the Yao Clan.” The child gave off a smile that resembled a smug cat after eating the beloved pet goldfish.

 “Cuilleann, we need the equipment to be undamaged by flood water if we’re to find Gort.” Muin said in a harsh whisper to Cuilleann who was getting hot with anger.

 “You expect me, your acting queen, to lower my standards to serve humans? Are you breathing in the gas fumes?!” Cuilleann shouted in their native language, not thrilled with that prospect.

“Damn it Cuilleann, we are getting offered a proper shelter and better quality food.” Tinne finally put his foot down from within the cave after working at the forge all day.

 “You know what Cuilleann, since you named this stupid cave the Liberation Cave of Freedom, we’re gonna act on that one. Everyone, let’s take a vote!” Ruis threw her arms up after having to listen to Cuilleann’s nonsense for far too long in the week. 

 “I’ll have you know I’ll consider this a mutiny!” Cuilleann protested as the others started to cast their votes.

 “Right, everyone, for leaving the cave to live in a proper house, raise your hands now!” Ruis yelled as she along with the seven others raised their hands to cast their vote.

“Now for Anyone who wants to live in an easily floodable cave, raise your hand!” Ruis smirked as the only hand to be raised was Cuilleann who had a look of displeasure.

 “Alright Cuilleann, the votes are clearly in favor of moving out of the cave. Let’s get the equipment out and ready to move into the new location.” Gef sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

 “Damn it, where is your pride in being a Fae?! We’re going to be serving this meatbag larva rather than the other way around! This is indignity and disgrace!” Cuilleann protested, but the others brushed her off as they started getting set up for the move.

 “That’s enough Cuilleann! We can’t go back to living like we once used to, we’re going to have to adapt and change accordingly to our new situation. Now, are you going to come with us or stubbornly stay at this cave?” Duir pinched between the bridge of his nose as he felt the migraine coming in from the rather stressful week he had living in a cave.

 “Duir, just so you know, I will be considering this an act of mutiny for a long time, but fine, I’ll come along since you’re my mutinous crew and I have a responsibility for all of you now.” Cuilleann grumbled in frustration from everyone betraying her perceived notion of what dignity they had left.

 “Then I take it you’re all going to join the Yao clan?” The child smiled at the small victory he made that very day and the bettering odds for his clan.

 “Yes my precocious little meat bag larva, we are going to join this clan of yours, HOWEVER, this contract agreement will be terminated once we are able to locate our Queen. Then your clan will be on their own, do we have a contract?” Cuilleann held her hand out to shake upon the arrangement, taking some control back from this unprecedented situation.

 “That’s fine by me, it just means my clan has service for the foreseeable future. However, I’ll be requiring everyone to study the current Xingese language, yours was incredibly outdated.” The child shrugged as they got what he had wanted beforehand and felt rather proud of himself. “You certainly have a lot of cheek from someone so young.” Cuilleann remarked as she glowered at the smug child. “Thanks, I have a very expensive education and private tutors, I get to lay my rights to be as cheeky as I want to be.” The young child just simply grinned as he started leading everyone off to his home.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2015 Might not finish this entry today, but to get started… I began to panic when Tom started to take off by himself to go to Walmart, so I stopped him and went with him. I guess I felt it was too soon to be left alone after Friday’s attack.

So we went out and didn’t have any close calls on the road like yesterday when some bitch in a Mercedes pulled out in front of us. Luxury cars are great at stopping fast, even at 12 years old.

I got Click My Hyperpink Megalast lipstick by Wet-n-Wild and it’s definitely hard to get off just like that girl said. It looks great, and lasts long, but is a bit dry and stiff, so I have to go over it with lip balm. I hate my lips overall, though. Too narrow, too thin.

Meanwhile, the first toilet is installed! It took almost 2.5 hours, and I didn’t even panic when he left me alone to go get longer hoses after I TOLD him 12” would be too short since these are taller toilets. Sometimes his wife really does know best.

Lifting toilets that weigh nearly as much as I do isn’t easy, but yes, I’m doing nearly as much work as he is. It definitely takes longer to pull the old one out than to get the new one in. The hardest part is setting the new one down because you don’t want to disturb the wax ring or the silicone along the base, yet you also want to set it down straight. We’re about to install the master bath toilet, so more details to come later!

Later…

Both our 32-year-old giant toilets that flushed super slow and took forever to fill are now gone. History!

I assisted with gathering tools as he needed them… Allen wrenches, crescent wrenches and a hacksaw to try to cut through the rotted bolt holding the tank to the toilet, but it just wouldn’t let go. He had to carry out both toilets as a whole using a dolly.

I thought it would stink like hell when the hole in the floor was opened but it didn’t. Actually, the silicone he applied around the base of the toilet stunk more.

They also don’t flush when you stand up like I thought they did. You have to wave your hand within 3 inches of a button on the side of the tank. It has 4 AA batteries and should last at least a year. The button has a blue light when it’s activated that glows red when the batteries get weak, and a small gray knob to do a manual flush. What’s amazing is how FAST they flush! The old ones flushed slower than I’d ever seen any other toilet flush. Even Andy said he’d never seen a toilet flush like that when he visited nearly a year ago. It took so long that sometimes it had to be flushed twice just to get the toilet paper down. These flush in just two seconds and fill up much faster. They don’t flush any louder than regular toilets, as Andy asked. Toilets only flush super loud when there’s no tank, like in public bathrooms.

I like that you have to wave the button to flush it rather than have it flush when you stand up because then every time we went near it the thing would flush.

I’ll go ahead and post this tonight, but pictures and other details have to wait. We’re just so beat. He’s already gone to bed.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2015 Very long, busy day, so I’m gonna update as quickly as I can as I’m getting a bit tired.

Had blood drawn yesterday and the nice Asian guy had to use a butterfly needle on my tiny veins. Wondering if skipping my meds last Sunday is going to really affect the numbers all that much or not. I hope not, or else I’ll have to explain that I skipped that day, but will probably just say I “forgot.”

I totally dread seeing her next Tuesday! What has to be said in person that can’t be said online or over the phone? I want to go back to 75 for now and that’s that. End of story. I like the woman, she’s fairly attractive for her age, she’s intelligent, but she also has a very commanding and somewhat intimidating personality. I know my body. Again, she may be the expert, but I know what’s normal for me to feel and what’s not, and I know I feel like shit on anything over 75. I’ll just tell her this and that I can always try 88’s again later on and see what happens, and hope she’ll be willing to consider how I feel and not her numbers (not that 10.61 was that bad anyway) and hope she’ll leave it at that. Some doctors have an all-or-nothing attitude where you either do as they say, or they won’t see you. I’m not refusing the meds altogether; I just can’t stay on a dose that makes me feel like I’m gonna die on and off. I just really hope I’m not going to have the hassle of having to find a new endo, even if one that’s closer would be convenient.

Either way, it’s been an overall good day health-wise. I felt a little questionable a couple of times where I thought my heart was going to race and as if it was thumping a little too hard, but nothing serious. It was probably just because I was standing out in the bright sunlight for a while and was dressed a bit warmly. My pulse was a little over 100 today like it was the day before yesterday. During the medication attack, it probably shot up to 140.

We first went treasure hunting at Goodwill. I got a small cute doll and a cat figurine for less than 2 bucks. He browsed the electronics, as usual, but didn’t find anything interesting.

Then we hit Carl’s Jr. I loved the girl’s lipstick that took our order, though that particular color would probably look like shit on me. It was very vivid and even and she said it doesn’t wipe off. It’s Wet-n-Wild’s Megalast. Looked it up on Amazon. Kinda like Pinkerbell.

Anyway, we got two deluxe motion-censored toilets with easy-to-clean bases that oughta be way cool. They’re American Standards and they’re supposed to have great flushing power because of the size of the hole that fills the tanks faster and all that. The only thing that sucked was that sure enough, a piece on the tank was broken and we had to return it. They were kind enough to switch it out for us, rather than tell us to return it for a full refund like Home Depot did, and then buy all-new ones.

We were going to get basic toilets for $100 each, but then realized it’s not like we do this every year or even every few years, so we might as well go all out. It’s going to cost close to $500 after the rebates, but should be well worth it for the 12-30 years we may be using them for. Wish us luck with tomorrow’s installation!

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2015 I have both great and shitty news. The great news is that my wonderful endo messaged me online to inform me that my thyroid numbers are now perfect. Perfect! My TSH is 3.71 and my T4 is 1.3.

She also let me know that they would retest me to check for accumulation but that she has labs ordered anytime I need them before our scheduled December test/appointment. Lastly, if my symptoms worsen, go to the lab and come see her sooner.

Well, yesterday I had mild tightness in the lungs and mild anxiety, but today’s the day it really got me, booming heart and all. As always, I was batshit terrified. No wonder I thought I was going to die the first time I experienced this and didn’t know why. It is the most scariest and miserable feeling I have ever experienced. I would rather have the worst period cramps in the world, puke my guts out, gain 50 pounds, and have all my teeth pulled at once.

I felt anxiety well up within me, then I felt warm and my heart started racing/booming, along with the other symptoms of lung tightness, the runs, low appetite, a little weight loss (despite not watching my calories or working out the last few days) and jitteriness. My legs felt like rubber and I could barely type the message I sent to my doc or Skype Tom.

I’m now virtually certain that the tightness is not something in the air and the IF diet isn’t what triggered my anxiety. I’m also sure there’s no way I can continue on this dose, perfect numbers or not. I’m going to have to dive back to 75s and try again in six months to a year or so. Sometimes the second time’s the charm for me. It was with the 75s and with endo docs, after all. I swear the more I learn from her, the more I realize just how much information my old doctor withheld from me.

I won’t be able to get in to see my doctor until November 3, but I am going to the lab today when Tom gets home from work. I was so terrified earlier that I almost had him come home. I’m surprised I started feeling better as fast as I did because it usually takes time to recover from this sort of thing, but this time around I was armed with lorazepam and a doctor who actually gives a shit. I didn’t have to resort to the beta-blocker, though.

I don’t know if it was caused by a pocket flare within the gland or what, but I just know I don’t ever want to go through this shit again. But it seems I do whenever my numbers dip below 8 or so. I would still rather be a little hypo than suffer. I respect the fact that the doctor thinks this is the right dose for me, and while it might be the right dose number-wise, it’s not the right dose for how I feel. I could kick myself for agreeing to go to the 88s when I had been feeling so good on the 75s. Again, maybe we’ll try again in the future.

Will write more later when I’m not as busy and not as rattled.

Later…

Doing another entry now because I expect to be busy over the next few days. We’re going to be picking up the toilets tomorrow and installing them on Saturday, and NaNoWriMo starts on Sunday. Still feeling stable after this morning’s terrifying scare, but worried it’ll get me again at any moment. It’s random and unpredictable.

Here’s a health update on Tom. He went to his doctor yesterday and he got right in in no time at all. As he said, he’s Middle Eastern so no one wants to see him. Female doctors are definitely way more sought out the male doctors, especially American ones because nobody wants to deal with the funky accents of foreigners that can be very hard to understand. As for me… while I do prefer females, as long as I can understand them and they know what they’re doing, any color or race will do.

His blood pressure is up even more so his doctor doubled the dose of this medication. This medication (I forget the name of it but it’s a very standard drug) doesn’t make him cough nearly as much as the stuff he was on before. It’s a diuretic so it should help the swelling in his feet.

I asked him why he has high blood pressure and he told me it’s because he has a family history of it, is obese, and isn’t getting enough exercise. He sits at the computer all day at work and then he works such long hours that when he finally gets home he has no energy left for working out. He just wants to eat, watch his show, and go to bed.

He’s determined to change this and lose 30 pounds before the trip. I’m the last one who would ever condemn, pick on, or discriminate against heavy people. Some people truly can’t help it, especially if they’re older or have certain medical conditions. But I’m all for him taking steps to a healthier him. Now that I know the IF diet wasn’t causing my anxiety (I figured as much) I may even eventually lose 20-30 pounds if I can, just not right now. One thing at a time. First I have to get my medication regulated so I don’t have the “heart attacks” from hell. It’s not as critical for me anyway because I’m just overweight whereas he’s obese.

He’s going to work on getting his passport next month, and next month we should definitely have vacation dates.

Marie happened to catch me on Facebook yesterday, which I use more for messaging than anything else, and she was going crazy due to her situation. I figured it was girl problems. I’m just glad I was there for her because she’s been there for me in the past. I guess Lori gets a little touchy-feely with men and she doesn’t exactly like it. I told her that no relationship is perfect so if she’s just flirting and not actually acting on any of her attractions/fantasies – which we all have – then I wouldn’t call it quits. As she said, Lori is really sweet otherwise. Besides, she’s not getting any younger, and she herself said she doesn’t want to die alone.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2015 Not much to say today. Tom’s got an appointment with his PCP and I’m still waiting for my thyroid numbers to be posted online.

Still doing my experiment too, to try to isolate the main cause of what was making me anxious. At this point, I’m still leaning toward the dosage increase, regardless of what the numbers may say, but will know for sure around mid-November. I’m skipping Sundays for 3 weeks, then I’ll go back to 88s every day. I want to see if it backs off by skipping (and so far it has), then returns when I’m on 88s daily. The IF diet may still have had a hand in it, but probably not much of one.

My lung tightness was minimal yesterday and I made sure I didn’t burn any incense. As Tom said, all it takes is one new ingredient I may be allergic to to have a negative effect on me. As much as I’ll miss it, once what I’ve got left is burned up, that’s it. No more. I don’t want it staining our beautiful new chandelier or other things. Smoke is smoke be it from cigarettes, incense or something else. I’ll still have the wax warmers.

I finally mapped out basic plots to 5 short stories for NaNoWriMo in which each story will be about 10K words.

Also, I finished categorizing thousands of pictures I’ve saved from around the web and am arranging boards on Pinterest. Then I’ll back up to Facebook and Amazon’s cloud.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2015 Got through yesterday without tightness or anxiety. Today I feel a bit tight, though, and again I’m not sure what to make of it. I just hope it’s something in the air that will pass soon enough and isn’t connected to my medication. It’s supposed to be cloudy today and rainy tomorrow. Hopefully, it really will rain and that will cleanse the air a bit.

Today I have been keeping a journal for 28 years! Not bad, huh?

I dreamed I was in jail (I don’t know why) and went off on one of the guards for some reason. She had been yelling at me and I shouted back about doing the best I could or something like that. Then I wrote a letter to Tammy.

Then I was watching TV somewhere and a news report said some woman who shot someone in self-defense wouldn’t be charged as she was left to pick up all her scattered possessions in some field somewhere.

Then I got a text message or voice message from Paula to which I replied by asking her if she’d be ok with spending just a couple of days out here and not half a month. I doubt I’ll ever hear from her again, though, and personally, I don’t want to any more than I want to hear from Nane. I looked in on Nane's latest travel pics in real life and she still looks good, but the longer I go without hearing from her, the less I miss her. She was just too judgmental. People that bash fatties, then bash you for bashing violent groups of people is no one I wish to associate with.

In another dream, Tom had brought some bottles in to be recycled and he complained that loud music was blaring all around him every time he did. We were standing by the car as he told me this and I looked up and found an umbrella floating high above the car that was tied to the back bumper like a helium balloon.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2015 Going about my business while embracing myself for the inevitable storm to come. Sooner or later the anxiety will bite, my lungs will tighten up, and on top of that, I’m sure someone around here will annoy the shit out of me with their noise. If the tightness is due to something in the air, though, as Tom suspects, then why is this the first fall that I’ve experienced it?

I’m trying to think positive and hope for the best as hard as it is. I’m doing a test where I skip my meds every Sunday for 3 weeks. This will put me back down around 75 mcg. If the anxiety subsides, then it was likely that 88s were just a bit much for me. I will then ask my doctor to put me back down to 75 and try again at a later date to do the 88s. Sometimes the second time around works out. It did with the 75s. Meanwhile, my lab numbers should be posted soon too, but regardless of with they may say, it’s how I feel that counts.

I felt well during most of yesterday and became a bit anxious and tight toward the end of my day at which time I took a lorazepam.

We ate at Denny’s and went to Walgreens afterward. There I found a dual Chapstick, something I’ve never seen before. One side is banana and the other is strawberry.

For just a couple of bucks each, I got body mist in a pink glitter bottle and one in a purple glitter bottle. The bottles look nicer than the sugarplum and strawberry scents smell. It’s like the smell has been watered down or something. It barely smells.

Got a headband with clear gems and a similar-looking barrette wide enough to gather my thick hair. It’s not as thick as it used to be, but it’s still kinda thick.

Got pink glitter duck tape that was to be strung across metal bands we were going to string across the couch and dresser legs to keep Roomba from getting stuck under there, but then Tom read that all we have to do is just glue little knobs on top of it. So now I have all this beautiful tape, but nothing to tape, LOL.

After we came back home we took the bikes out and it was after that that I started to feel bad. So just maybe there is something out there. We’re skipping our morning ride today. I’ll hit the treadmill instead.

We decided that rather than get taller oval toilets with an overflow system, we’d just get shorter round toilets like what Jesse had. Our toilets seldom overflow anyway.

I asked Tom if he thought we stood a chance of ever moving to Hawaii and said that I didn’t think we ever would because all we could probably afford was attached living. Well, even if we were all on one floor with concrete foundations where you couldn’t feel the vibration of heavy footsteps, we’d still get the blasting TVs and other things that you don’t hear in houses. Old folks love to blast their TVs, and if there were cabinets along the dividing wall, you’d hear those being closed too. Unless there was a firewall between the units, of course.

I lived in a couple of different 4-story brick buildings back east, a common apartment set up there, and never heard these two sisters whose place ran alongside my kitchen and bedroom. That was because of the brick firewall between us. Meanwhile, I could hear the lady on the other side of me playing the radio that sat on her kitchen counter from two rooms away.

What was funny was the point he made in his response. He said, “I can’t possibly know what the future holds. Had someone once asked me if I’d ever move to Oregon, I’d have said probably not. If someone told me I’d drive a Cadillac someday, I’d have doubted that, too.”

LOL, I’d never have guessed I’d leave New England, learn so many languages, quit smoking, be happily married for so long, share my journal online for all the world to see, or publish books even if I didn’t make shit doing it, etc.

A large boat “crashed” ashore in my dreams last night, though I don’t know what beach I was on. It struck me that that was just how those kinds of boats “docked,” and I watched as people began to trickle off the boat.

Then Tom and I moved into a strange house that was in the shape of a long L. Its long corridors and polished floors suggested it might have once been used as a non-residential building. Tom’s bedroom was at the very end of the long part of the L, toward the left. Mine was further up the hall on the right. I was standing in the doorway of his bedroom where he was trying to sort blankets that were twisted around him in his twin-size bed as he readied himself for sleep. I asked him if he wanted me to close his door, saying I didn’t care if it was left open or not, but I needed to know so I could be sure the rats didn’t wander in there.

Then I ran up the hallway, shoes echoing off the painted brick walls, past my bedroom where my sound machine softly played white noise, and over to the rats’ cage on the left, straight across from the short end of the L in which the kitchen and then the living room were located.

In the last dream, I might have been in a therapist’s office. The woman, whoever she was, told Tom, who sat next to me, that when I called it “home” and not just “where we live,” I would then be in the right place.

The dream therapist then asked me to close my eyes, visualize myself in a nice place, and then describe it to her.

“I’m floating on a cloud,” I said. “Only that cloud is the ocean. I think it’s in Hawaii. There’s so much color all around me. So many pink flowers.”

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2015 Just when I thought my endo was going to blow me off, especially being a Saturday, I received a message from her confirming the lab for both yesterday as well as the week before I see her in December. So I’m back to loving Doc O again, just not her location, LOL.

As soon as I got the message, we got me to the lab and I not only didn’t have to wait long, but Kylie was my vamp for the second time. She always gets my tiny little veins on the first try.

It turns out she was Doc O’s patient as a kid before Doc O started seeing adults only. She liked her a lot, saying she was the only one that seemed to really care. I agree. I’m just not sure she always gets just how much a dosage increase really does affect my anxiety levels. I know levothyroxine is the same thyroid hormone our bodies are supposed to make anyway, but for some reason, normal or not, an increase seems to be a bit of a shock to my system. The extreme dieting may have had a hand in it, but dieting has never affected me to this degree while this medication has. I’m still leaning towards the medication as the main culprit.

Until it gets close to my next lab check-in, I’ve decided to skip the meds once a week to lower my levels just a teeny bit (this will almost put me back to 75 mcg) until I feel better. The anxiety has been coming and going. I’ll have a day without it and then I’ll feel anxious, and back and forth and back and forth… I’m not going to tell her that I’m skipping, of course.

It was great to be able to grab a bite to eat and have my coffee the instant I got up, just like old times. It sure would be nice to be able to have my coffee as soon as I got up on vacation so we could get going sooner, but I can’t go a whole week without it. I would feel horrible as my body began to crash. This can take months to recover from, too. I passed the point of no return a long time ago. Just a short break from this medication and I feel like shit, gain a million pounds that never comes back off, and retain enough water to solve all our drought problems.

I’m going to have mixed emotions if my numbers turn out okay. If it were the medication, it would be simple enough to adjust the dose. If it’s not, I may wonder if the diet really did screw up everything. I started the IF diet around the 8th of October. It was on the 13th that the anxiety kicked in. Seems a bit long if it was the diet. Shouldn’t I have felt anxious that day or at least the next day? I still think it’s the medication which means that after I’ve had time to adjust I can one day attempt the IF diet again since it works so well. I will probably wait until after our vacation.

Maybe the numbers don’t have to be bad, though, to make me a little anxious. Or maybe I have simply developed an anxiety disorder after last year’s trauma. I just don’t know for sure and not knowing is what makes it frustrating.

Receiving broken toilets is also frustrating. We were going to install them today, but when Tom pulled one out of its box yesterday he noticed it was broken. He called Home Depot and they said they wouldn’t replace it. Instead, he had to bring it in for a full refund and buy another one. Not trusting that the second toilet didn’t have cracks in it, he returned them both for a full refund and on Wednesday he’s going to go to Lowe’s for replacements. Hopefully, we’ll install them on his next three-day weekend.

Last night I had ratty dreams, but don’t remember much about them.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 24, 2015 Bob’s back to being loud and distracting. Yesterday he was hammering something at the lower side of his garage door. The only thing I can guess that’s in that area might be the gutter. My first thought was, great, he’s going to keep me up all day. But I didn’t hear anything when I got into bed. Either the sound machine did a good job of blocking him out or he stopped. Still, how many weeks is this new project going to take? I’m tired of having one of the noisiest people in the park being right next to us. Just totally sick of the computerless, restless outdoor neighbor who never wants to be indoors. The only thing this guy doesn’t have that Jesse had is the motorcycle and mutts.

Sure enough, the doctor didn’t confirm that it would be okay to go to the lab on Saturday, as I asked her to, and if she still wanted me to go to the lab the week before I saw her as originally planned. I'm sorry, but there's no excuse for this and I don't care how many patients she has. This may not be a matter of life or death, but she - or someone - should be able to handle that much. Her not having time to respond to my second to last message, as I was told by the nurse I spoke to, is no excuse either. If she had the time to read it, she could’ve jotted down a quick reply. Her answer didn’t require much thought let alone a novel. I mean what’s the point of the portal if you’re not going to use it?

Maybe the negative feelings I sensed in her the last time around weren’t in my imagination after all. It was nothing she said but just something I sensed like a dog senses fear. It was in her body language and while she may have a bit of a commanding personality no matter what and she might have just been having a bad day, I really think she dislikes me and doesn’t have much tolerance for dealing with anxious people.

She may be knowledgeable and she may be sorry that I was traumatized last year, but could it be time to look for a new endo? I have been considering it regardless because she is just too long of a stressful drive, and the valet parking is a real nightmare.

In last night’s dream, I had just woken up in the late afternoon. I stumbled into the living room with a yawn where half a dozen people stood waiting for me. I muttered something like, “Sorry. Been working graves online. Government project.”

Then I noticed one person was a woman wearing a long fancy gown which I complimented.

Next, I was back in the bedroom where the radio was playing and a new song came on that I liked. As I listened to it I looked at the window before me and noticed that the curtains were fading. Then the bedroom melted away and I was in a pool with some guy and what I assumed was his daughter who was in her late teens or early 20s. The water was cold at first but then it felt nice. Sitting on a nearby lounge was a naked girl of about eight years old. Ignoring the odd sight, I turned back to what was probably her older sister and said, “New curtains are definitely in order for the bedroom.”

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2015 After my last entry, my anxiety picked up to the point that I took a lorazepam, and even my stomach decided to get in on the action. I had the runs. So after having to be redirected FOUR times to endocrinology, I got a hold of a nurse who said the doctor had read my message but hadn’t had a chance to respond as of yet. Hadn’t had a chance? But I left the messages days ago and they usually say just 1-2 business days to get back to you. That’s how it usually is anyway.

When I got up there was a message from Chris saying that the doctor contacted me online and that I didn’t have to call her back. So I picked up the doctor’s message, and she still doesn’t seem to think that the dosage increase is affecting my anxiety, from what I understand, though she says extra labs can be done. At least I think that’s what she’s saying. I asked her to confirm that it would be okay to go Saturday to the lab and if she still wanted me to go to the lab the week before I see her as originally planned.

She also mentioned seeing my PCP. Not sure why, but I already have an appointment scheduled with her for early December.

Regardless, she may be an expert, but I know my body. I’m not saying it’s 100% responsible, but I really believe it’s got a definite hand in it. The timing is just too coincidental. I was right the first time around, so why would I be wrong now? I’m sure worrying about it doesn’t help either, but when they get me close to normal it does seem to affect my anxiety.

But fine. I’ll continue the 88s as she advised, I’ll go to the labs, and we’ll see what the numbers say. Worst case scenario, I can just skip one day a week and that’ll put me back to 75s. If the numbers are too high I’ll just tell her I may occasionally “forget” to take it.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2015 Tom upgraded to Mac’s El Capitan, but I’m still using Yosemite. El Cap just doesn’t seem to have any new and exciting features I really need. What would be nice would be if Firefox wasn’t so damn slow, but since it has more features I need, I’m kind of stuck with it for now.

No anxiety yesterday. My heart did race me awake, though, and today I’m borderline anxious but it’s backing off. Really starting to wonder just what the fuck it is I ever did to deserve this on-and-off suffering I’ve been going through for over a year now. As soon as I think I’m over it for good, back it comes. I’ll give it a few more days and see how I feel. I might call the doctor’s office on Friday or Monday. The wacky diet may have had a big hand in my anxiety, but I can’t rule out the dosage increase yet either. The biggest telltale sign of hyperthyroidism is rapid uncontrollable weight loss, a symptom I haven’t had. Nor have I had a booming heart, the runs, or a decrease in appetite, though my appetite is down a bit and I’m not holding weight as easily as I usually do.

So while it’s unlikely I’ve been flipped from hypo to hyper this doesn’t mean it can’t make me a little anxious. Or can it? That’s what I hope to find out. What’s almost as frustrating as the anxiety itself is not knowing for sure what’s causing it. It’s hard to help ourselves when we don’t know where to begin. Stopping fasting was a start, though. That definitely seems to help. If it is the meds at all, I don’t know if I’ll adapt and the anxiety will eventually go away for good, or if it will still go away if something else is causing it. It’s hard to believe, for whatever reason, that one could suddenly develop an anxiety disorder like this, but things do change with age.

Speaking of doctors, I got a weird message in which all that was said by automated voices was that the call was on behalf of (then they say my name) and that I could press 1 for customer service or call their toll-free number at my convenience. I would normally ignore calls like this but since my name was used, I first wondered if it was connected to whoever’s been using my name and number, according to that guy in Auburn.

But then I looked up the number, which is supposedly the payment center of my medical group, and other people wonder if it’s a scam of some kind. I think it might be because never in the message did they identify themselves, and I don’t know why they would be calling us about money. We either pay in person or online if they don’t send us a bill. I’ll run it by Tom when he gets up and see what he thinks. I only just discovered the message recently. Goes to show how much more I’m online than on phones.

I hope his leg is better when he gets up. He bumped his shin really bad while picking up the second 98-pound toilet. They’re sitting in the laundry room waiting to be installed this weekend with hopefully not too much drama along the way.

Still think it’s kind of weird that no one got back to me regarding my messages about the anxiety. You know I love to spy on people, and she’s been pretty consistent with her Facebook game-playing. Even when she was in New York she was playing games. But this daily habit has ceased to exist lately.

Given that she has only 13 friends, 3 of whom could have 2 accounts and be the same person, I wonder if she’s the loner type when she’s not working or if she’s just not a very well-liked person. Her tone and attitude on the job suggest she may be a real bitch in her everyday life.

I have always been a loner myself and have always enjoyed spending most of my time alone. Not all of it, but most of it. I’m more productive that way. But lately, I wonder if I would feel better and more secure if either Tom was home all the time, or a couple of people lived with us (that we both knew, trusted and felt comfortable with) and someone was always home. I don’t know, though, because sometimes the anxiety kicks in when Tom’s home. His presence certainly helps, but it doesn’t prevent it completely.

Andy's not doing much better either. He’s frustrated because he stopped losing weight, and within less than a 24-hour period, both his refrigerator and his washer crapped out. His washer is fairly new, too. I really feel for him. When we lived in Arizona it seemed that our stuff was constantly breaking. As soon as we fixed something, something else would break.

Not sure if I’m going to be doing this year’s NaNoWriMo because I’m struggling to come up with ideas. I’ve got 10 more days to figure it out if I’m going to.

Still having loads of fun creating boards and pinning pictures on Pinterest, as pointless as it may be. Then again, almost everything we do in life seems pointless at times. It’s just a fun thing, sort of like putting together a puzzle of a picture, only I’m putting together a “puzzle” that consists of many, many pictures.

During the millions of times I woke up, I remember bits and pieces of interesting yet senseless dreams. I was sitting at this weird desk in what almost looked like a giant warehouse. I was working at a computer when I looked up above me and saw several cobwebs and what looked like this strange fungus dangling from the ceiling. I hunted for a vacuum to suck it up with, but couldn’t find a vacuum hose long enough to reach them, or anything stable to stand on.

I know that I also had dreams involving Charlotte and Molly, but I don’t remember much of them. It seems like I might have been walking somewhere when I crossed paths with Charlotte. She kept asking me for a favor but I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

The Molly dream might have had to do with us writing in paper journals.

I also had a dream that I was out riding my bike and rode by Andy's place. His front door was open and I knew he was hauling groceries in from his car. I stopped when he spotted me and said, “I know you weren’t expecting any company, but since I happened by, need a hand?”

I don’t remember what his answer was, but the most interesting dream was the letter sent from Stacey that she meant to send to someone else. That was the sexy bitch of an apartment manager Andy and I both had to deal with back in the early 90s down in Arizona. The letter contained about five non-digital photos. There was a guy standing by a pool in one where Stacy had written, “My friend Dave.” Then there was a picture showing these battery-operated fish swimming through her pool. Neat idea. :-)

I planned to write her back and ask if she wanted me to send her the letter and pictures back, or if she wanted me to forward them to someone.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 20, 2015 What a shitty night last night ended up being. It was absolutely horrible. After I ate the first time around the anxiety backed off, but then it hit me again and it eventually turned into frustration, which turned into depression. I was literally in tears. Then I took a lorazepam and laid down for about an hour but didn’t sleep. Naturally, I felt better when Tom got up and we discussed it. Both he and Aly think it’s the diet and not my medication.

I have totally stopped the diet altogether because one of us is right and I need to find out who it is so I can fix this. Again, before about a year ago, I never felt these kinds of emotions. I’ve been depressed at times, but I never had this kind of anxiety. I’m also not accustomed to feeling any negative emotions without a damn good reason either, like after losing a pet or something like that. Even when we were dirt poor I didn’t have this degree of anxiety. As I was telling someone recently, I’d rather be broke than go through this. Both are hard to deal with, but being poor was an easier kind of hard. It was more straightforward. There was no mystery to it and you knew that even if it may take time, someday it would end or at least not be so bad. But I’m not 100% sure what’s causing this anxiety and I don’t know if this is something I’m going to suffer with on and off for the rest of my life for what. Today’s been good so far, though.

Let’s just say that extreme diets make me sick or mess me up emotionally, and I have no willpower to stick to the reasonable ones. Alli messed up my stomach and skin, low carb makes me gassy as hell, and IF diets love to play on my moods/emotions. The so-called reasonable ones? They just leave me hungry and moody. A bit sluggish too, for the few days I can stand to actually stick to them.

I didn’t diet yesterday but the day before I did. Also, the day before yesterday I didn’t have any anxiety at all, while I dieted the previous day. So it seems to affect me the day after I diet. If I diet tomorrow then I’m likely to suffer the next day. Not worth it. Not worth it at all.

I’m kind of surprised the doctor never responded to my messages. I’m pretty sure that they’re obligated to respond to them, so I wonder if something’s up with her. Even if there was, why hasn’t any other doctor contacted me? Well, if stopping the diet doesn’t continue to make me feel better, I will call them and ask to go to the lab so they can check my numbers.

The only negative thing I feel today is an achy crown. It does that at times, but it doesn’t feel like it’s loose or anything.

Been using LiveJournal since 2008 and I'm still learning things about it. That number rating I’ve been going by is my all-time rating, not my daily rating. Today I am in the 7286th position while my all-time rating is now up to 12,785. And all because I started answering the daily questions I only recently discovered, LOL.

Yesterday evening was chilly, so I wasn’t out riding for long. I went out for 15 minutes an hour ago, and later I’ll spend 5 minutes strength training various body parts and then hit the treadmill for 10 minutes.

Last night I dreamed we just moved into this place and it was horribly cluttered. Tom went out to run an errand that had to do with something financial. Some financing or payment connected to the place. While he was gone I took the opportunity to try to sort through our stuff. A cat suddenly appeared and I assumed it was Simone. She was rubbing against me affectionately and purring away. I then said, “This time you’re here to stay no matter how much I suffer.” Then it suddenly hit me that Tom was taking an awfully long time to return.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2015 Didn’t sleep all that well. The traffic decided to wake me up this time around, and then I woke up to pee, and then for no apparent reason at all.

I was a little surprised to find that my endo never got back to me online. They usually get back to me in a day or less, and if they can’t, another doctor does. I had no anxiety at all yesterday but today I was borderline, so I ate earlier than planned. Tom thinks it’s connected to the diet but I don’t know what to think at this point. I’d rather stay fat and feel better if that’s the case, but rather than decide to quit or diet, I’m just going by how I feel day by day. I will say that the anxiety did pass in less than two hours after I ate a frozen dinner of cheesy rice with chicken and broccoli and had some fresh strawberries for dessert. So I got a good balance of carbs and proteins. Maybe my dear hubby is right after all. He is a very smart guy. So I guess it’s either be fat or be anxious. I’ll take the extra cushion, thank you.

My LiveJournal user ratings are now 12,921.

Again I had snippets of very strange dreams. In one I brought my PCP three or four vials of my blood supposedly for future blood tests. She asked why I brought them and I told her I brought them because she asked me to. Then she insisted that she never asked me to bring any such thing.

In another dream, I opened the front door of a house that seemed to be in a remote and mountainous setting. The mountains weren’t as steep or as green as they were when we lived in Auburn, but they gently sloped downward and off into the distance. I couldn’t see any other houses at all and I looked at a particular spot across the street and imagined Alyssa living there. I was thinking of her last night, so maybe that’s why I dreamed of her.

Next, someone was looking for somebody, and as I was telling them where to find them, I mentioned having a crush on them, not knowing that the woman I was talking about was standing right behind me. Who knows how well they took the news, whoever they were, because that dream only lasted a few seconds.

In the last dream, I opened a small box that was filled with bottle caps and Styrofoam peanuts and I wondered why the person(s), whoever they were, kept returning the caps of the bottles I gave/sent them.

I placed the box down and looked around the room I was in. There were about three twin beds side-by-side along one wall and my own twin bed was on the opposite wall facing the other direction. I realized the room was an absolute mess and I demanded that those who slept in the room put all their belongings on their beds because I was about to vacuum the floor.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2015 Just checking in to the sound of thunder. Earlier it was the faint strains of polka music coming from the clubhouse. Yes, once again we had a live band here (Oktoberfest), and once again I’m thinking about how I came here to escape what I just can’t escape. Someone drove by with loud music a few times yesterday, and today it’s the band. Fortunately, they don’t have live bands playing here as often as they do landscaping and other annoying things. It didn’t last as long as the last band they had.

I decided to try my best once again on the IF diet since I’m probably going to feel anxious at times anyway. Diets have never made me feel anxious. Only this damn evilthyroxine has. It got bad enough last night that I decided that rather than wait and call (and risk the nurse misinterpreting me), I’d leave the doctor a direct message online, and I did. That way it’s in my words and she can tell me directly if she wants me to go to the lab. I’m stable at the moment, but I just never know when it’s going to hit me. It turns itself on and off at random. At some point in the night, I realized I was no longer anxious. It just clicked off light a light switch. Maybe part of that is because I lost myself on Pinterest. I try to do things to distract myself and my mind from dwelling on it when it hits me.

Pinterest has been around a while now, yet last night is when I got really into it for the first time ever. At first it seemed pointless and I didn’t really get how it worked, but it’s a great way to create picture collections. Pics are one of my hobbies, especially nature and animal pics. They have every subject under the sun there to search for, plus I downloaded their tool to allow me to pin pics from all over the web.

Tom printed out a little holder for a thing that can recharge our trash bin’s batteries. This way we don’t have to keep going through batteries. I scold him and tell him he should’ve gotten just a basic pail. We don’t need a motion-censored one. :)

No new toilets this weekend cuz one of them isn’t due to arrive till the 22nd, and he would like to install them both at once. With me helping, of course. :)

Andy got kicked off of Ask and accused of using a bot. Well, not only would he never want to use one there, but he probably couldn’t figure out how to create one any more than I could put a Rubik’s cube together. That’s just not the guy’s thing. So we swapped messages and pics in chat on Facebook till he discovered his account was accessible again and we returned there. Because we sometimes make funny comments/answers, the system probably thought it was a bot cuz it seems like gibberish to outsiders. We’ll randomly grab half a sentence off the web somewhere and the other has to finish it in a goofy, funny way.

Tried Kiwi berries for the first time. They’re ok. Not bad, but not great. Aly recommended golden raisins for lightheadedness caused by low iron, so I put those on next week’s grocery list even though I’m not big on “boogers.”

Last night I had a dream I moved in with this family who had a girl of about 16 or 17. She was so unhappy about my moving in and had other family problems that she ran away. About 5 years went by and I overheard someone talking about finding her to tell her that her father was dying. I was glad the girl had run away because I knew we wouldn’t get along, but I was also worried about her as well.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2015 We got a pretty good thunder and rainstorm late last night at around 2am. It rained a bit today too, and we hurriedly took off on the bikes to go “rain riding.” We were hoping to ride through at least a little drizzle, but sure enough, it cleared up. The roads are all dry now.

Feeling flashes of anxiety again, but I don’t know what to make of it. I’m feeling it more emotionally than physically. My heart isn’t booming or racing up a storm or anything like that. I just feel odd feelings on and off that again, just don’t seem normal for me. I guess it is now, though. It’s hard to describe the feeling and it’s as subtle as it is obvious, but I guess it’s anxiety. It’s just that fleeting feeling of unease, dread or doom. That’s the best I can describe it.

Eating does seem to help, and at first I thought that since I was dumb enough to go riding on an empty stomach, I just needed to eat when we returned and I’d be fine. But I continued to feel it intermittently. It’s hard to believe this is all about food since starting the IF diet, but to find out for sure, I decided to swap eating times. I was to wait until I’d been up 8 hours before I started eating, but then I decided to eat during the first half of my day instead to see if that helped, but it hasn’t made a difference.

I still worry it’s the dosage increase. Coincidently or not, these are the same feelings I had several months ago, though I don’t see how my numbers could’ve been that far off every time I’ve felt this way. All I know is that I never felt this before last year and I sometimes worry that last year’s trauma has given me a whole new and permanent anxiety disorder. I just might not feel anxious every day, though. Tom doesn’t think it’s the meds. He thinks I’m just worried about the meds and that I’ll settle in after another month or so.

The only other symptom I feel at times is tingling in the lips and that’s another symptom of anxiety right there. But WHY? Is it me? My eating habits? The meds? Something else?

I know I’m not in any danger or anything like that, but this isn’t a very pleasant thing to live with, so I really hope it backs off. I’ll message my doc if it doesn’t.

Had a dream I was in an RV or some other large vehicle when we ended up lost at the end of a dead-end road tightly flanked by trees, much like we did when we moved to Oregon. As Tom got out of the RV to check out the best way to get turned around, the RV’s brakes released and started moving backward with me inside of it. Neither of us seemed too alarmed, though.

Did I expect to hear landscaping and projects here? Yes. Just not nearly every day. Did I expect to hear car stereos blast by the bedroom THREE times in one day? No, not at all. Really, if you can't escape this shit in a retirement community where CAN you escape it? I doubt most of them are people who live here but more like people visiting or who work here. Still, the owners should remind them that this isn't the ghettos.

Later…

No way. Just no way. This anxiety I’m feeling, which is worse today, is almost certainly connected to the new dose and not the diet I was doing. It’s got to be. I ate more yesterday and today, yet I’m still having symptoms of anxiety. I’ll be damned if I’ll put up with this shit again. I’m calling the doctor’s office on Monday as Tom suggested since even he can't be entirely sure of anything. Not even a lorazepam has helped. I should have known better. I was feeling fine on the 75s and that’s where I should have stayed. All that should matter is how I feel and not their damn numbers. When you don’t feel good, then screw the numbers. I really hope the booming/racing heart isn’t next.

What I’ve got to find out is whether or not this medication can cause anxiety even if your numbers aren’t bad. I mean not bad in a certain way. I can’t believe my TSH has dropped too low, but I wonder if my T4 could have gone a little higher. She will probably send me to the lab to find out, but I’m thinking I’m going to have to dose back down to 75.

Another reason I’m starting to suspect the medication (besides the fact that it’s getting worse) is that no diet has ever made me feel anxious before no matter how extreme it may be. It can make me sluggish and shaky, but it’s never made me anxious. I swear this isn’t normal for me. Not even in the worst of times in life. Things I worry about can be on my mind, they can mess with my sleep, and they can sometimes give me the runs, but these flashes of anxiety I feel well up in my chest… that just shouldn’t be happening. Not unless it’s possible to suddenly become this way for some reason.

I’m just tired of suffering on and off and wondering what the hell I did to deserve it. I was doing so well for months, and now it’s back. Again, being poor was easier. It’s frustrating and depressing to have to once again deal with anxiety I’m not used to. This isn’t like when we stress or worry over something that eats at our minds. This is worse.

One of the toilets hasn’t arrived yet, so we might just install one of them tomorrow.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 16, 2015 Got a lot done today… laundry, making out the grocery list, cleaning, etc. Now I can finally relax and do some writing. I could skip my workout with all the physical activity I’ve gotten today doing things around the house, but I don’t want to. I like riding and getting some fresh air.

Tammy left a message and I first decided I’d call back in a week or two when there was less going on. Remember, we’re installing new toilets this weekend. They’ve arrived at Home Depot and all we have to do is pick them up tomorrow.

But then I realized she’d be there for me if I wanted to talk. She always makes time for me as soon as she can, and I knew that a 10-15 minute chat wouldn’t kill me as much as I prefer Facebook to phones.

She had both good and bad news to inform me of. I’m thrilled to learn she and Mark recently quit smoking and I hope they STAY quit. Yes, she will suffer for a while, and yes, she will gain weight cuz her metabolism is about to take a hit, but the cravings will pass and the weight can be lost later on.

The bad news – and I didn’t know this – she’s had diabetes for years. I know of others who had it, changed their eating habits, lost weight and got rid of it, but it might not be that easy for her. She can eat right, but the steroids she has to take can cause both weight and water gain, and she’s exercise-challenged cuz of her knee and arthritis.

It gets worse. She needs an insulin pump and her damn insurance has denied her cuz her numbers are too high.

What. The. Fuck?

When it comes to state, government or medical insurance, I am sooo sick of them not taking care of their own. Meanwhile, if you’re a foreigner or you’re in another country, they’ll give you EVERYTHING. It’s totally beyond fucked up.

So she has diabetes, our mother had it, and our grandfather had it. That means I could be next, even though I’m not that big and I’m pretty active. Still, she inspired me to get a good 20 pounds or so off. I think I might be able to do it now that they’ve got my thyroid meds regulated and I’ve found that IF diets work for me so long as I don’t overdo it. They can make me weak, shaky and moody and therefore I sometimes have to eat earlier than planned. Still, like with quitting smoking, you usually have to suffer a bit to make changes in life.

She and Mark, like us, are doing projects around the house little by little. Their place is a lot newer than ours, but they still want to customize it to their tastes. I guess screens need to be replaced every few years there cuz of the storms. Meanwhile, we still have our 32-year-old screens, LOL. She isn’t worse than us in all ways. She’s never needed heat since she’s been there, the lucky girl!

She wants to go on a cruise someday, too. I think she’d love it. This will be our second one. After the first one, I thought it was a hectic pain in the ass since we lived in such a tiny town that we couldn’t fly to and from. We had to Amtrak to and from the airport. But after the shit we went through upon moving here, I realized how much fun it was after all, though yes, cruises are rocking with all kinds of wild and fun adventures. It’s like a giant playground in the middle of the ocean. If you want to relax, don’t go cruising.

Got some goodies arriving tomorrow, including a realistic miniature chipmunk. That was an add-on for just a few bucks. I can add it to all my other animals. I also want to get the skunk and possum.

The hairpiece came today and I wish it hadn’t so I could’ve gotten a refund. Dumbest waste of money yet, even if it was just $5. I can’t get it to stay in place.

My LiveJournal ratings are still rising. I’m now at 13,148. I changed themes and couldn’t find the old one afterward so now it has a new look.

I dreamed my cyber friend Christine adopted a baby, and the pill dreams are back, too. This time I went to shake a pill into my mouth and ended up with a whole mouthful which I was struggling to spit out. I’d never be so dumb as to shake a pill from a bottle full of pills into my mouth in real life, though.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2015 I couldn’t believe I was out well after dark riding my bike in shorts and sandals in mid-October, but I was. I’m loving this endless summer! They’re still claiming we’re going to get a lot more rain from January through March, but I’ll believe it when I see it.

Tom needed to get some vitamin C on Amazon, so we also got some goodies while we were at it. He got when he usually gets… Computer/electronics-related stuff. I got some wall stickers to replace a couple of wall stickers in the hallway. They’re silhouettes of birds on branches with a few flying around them.

When I went to apply a 31” sticker of a figure skater I accidentally “twisted” her ankle. She’s also got a kink in her knee. I also have a sticker of a giant eye that I’m kind of sick of.

I also got a couple of bronze lady figurines from this series I’ve been collecting. Got about a dozen now, all in different poses.

Every now and then I check Mary's pathetic tweets just for shits and giggles. This is the one that let her crazy ex kill her baby and that I stupidly let use me to type her “story” from jail. I worked my ass off and didn’t get shit in return. Actually, I did get something. I got falsely accused of bashing her in my blog (better be careful what you accuse people of lest they actually act on it in the future), she blocked me on Facebook, then she unblocked me, and that was when I told her I was done with her. All she does is suck whatever she can out of people.

Anyway, she’s ”overwhelmed” and “miserable.” Oh, poor baby. She must not currently have a bad boy to use to buy her things. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gotten knocked up since her release.

She is otherwise intelligent and a great writer, so it’s too bad that she has to be so selfish and paranoid and befriend people under false pretenses.

No landscaping or wood chippers running today, but here we go again with the small plane circling round and round. I don’t understand why they do this at times, but when they do it’s kind of annoying.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2015 It turns out that not eating was definitely what was messing up my moods. I guess my blood sugar got too low. Tom was wonderful about it after work. He let me whine all about it and then he took me out to eat. We just grabbed some fast food from Jack-in-the-Box, but it was sooo good. Never knew there was such a thing as vanilla Sprite before. Going to have to try their peach and raspberry versions in the future.

After Jack’s, we went to a grocery outlet where I grabbed some fresh strawberries and orange juice. I was already feeling a million times better. It seems that the better a diet works, the shittier they make you feel. One doesn’t need to give up on this sort of thing altogether, but it’s definitely best not to be so extreme about it. Maybe do it every 2 to 3 days instead of every single day.

When I researched IF diets it said that it helps toughen you up to hunger and makes you able to withstand going longer periods of time without eating. This is definitely true. I guess it’s like that with a lot of things. Having more pain can toughen you up to it, so this makes sense. You just gotta go easy with it and not get so carried away.

I really felt horrible yesterday and it was frustrating until I knew for sure what it was. When we lose a pet and we get depressed we know exactly why we’re depressed. But I wasn’t sure at first what was causing my anxiety and depression. I couldn’t help but keep thinking that being as poor as we once were was so much easier. That was straightforward. With anxiety and depression, there can be a number of possibilities. Usually, however, I don’t feel any negative emotions without a reason. But until you know what that reason is, it can make it seem even worse.

At the grocery store, I also got a wind chime with three little cowbells. I got this one more for sound than for looks. It sounds different than anything else I’ve got out there. We just have yet to have enough wind to move it.

Today has been amazingly and unbelievably quiet so far. The last two days were horrible with all the landscaping in tree cutting I heard for hours at a time. Today, though, is totally dead quiet. I don’t know that it’s ever been this quiet in the middle of a weekday.

Last night consisted of many quick and senseless, silly fragments of dreams. It was the other way around where it was Fran that was still alive and he was making funeral arrangements for his dead brother Rick. In real life, Rick is the one who’s still alive.

In another dream, I was excited that this woman who made a movie gave it the title I suggested. I was trying to get a copy of it to send to my parents, LOL, who seem to be alive and well and half my dreams.

In another dream, I seemed to have moved in with a woman I was attracted to (Nane?). I don’t know if we were in a relationship or if we were just roommates, but we were in a large room watching a movie when I decided to leave. She said something like, “Yeah, it’s down to just 50° in here.”

I mentioned calling my parents and she made the comment about it only being a few days since I last called them. I said they might be worried about me since I just moved in with her and wanted to let them know I was okay. I asked her how often she would call her own parents and she said every week to 2 months.

As I rose from the couch we sat on, I also mentioned the book I was writing and said, “If we did what I’m about to write about, you would cringe.” At least I think that’s what I said. I’m not entirely sure about the last part.

Then I was walking in high heels along the street and was surprised at how easy it was to walk in them. Some guy walked by and said I should walk closer toward the side of the road. Then he told some girl who magically appeared that her joke wasn’t funny and was suddenly holding a rat that I realized was mine.

My user ratings on LiveJournal are now up to 13,370. It’s listed on my profile page there. I’m probably getting more viewers because I just noticed they have daily questions that I’ve been answering, although my tracker isn’t reflecting much in the way of new activity. This is probably thanks to all the mobiles out there. Trackers are blind to them and since more and more people are using them I don’t see most of my blog visitors anymore.

I sincerely hope the video I shared on my Facebook wall of a rat attacking a pigeon grosses Andy the hell out because he is continuing to drive me crazy with the food talk and it’s more than obvious that he is not a true friend at all. The more I hint or even bluntly suggest he quit driving that subject into the ground, the more he discusses it. Well, that tells me something about him right there; that he’s not a true friend. So I wasn’t just paranoid in suspecting that he truly does enjoy annoying people. Well, anyone who can get off on doing that is obviously not a friend no matter what they may say, and therefore I’m not checking in as much.

I’m even fucking with him at times by using Ask’s constant technical issues as an excuse to delete his questions and comments to me about food. Obviously, I won’t delete them all otherwise it would be obvious, but I do delete some of them and just say that I never got them.

Regardless of the fact that he obviously enjoys annoying people, I still think he has a serious food addiction. His whole life is nothing but Facebook, food, canning and cleaning toilets. Well, I’m sure there are some porn and dreaming of young studs he can never have mixed in as well. Either way, if he’s stuffing the shit out of himself as I suspect he may be, I would be genuinely concerned for my health. He totally overdoes things. First it was cigarettes and pot. Then it was alcohol. Now it’s food.

Heard someone drive by with loud music. It was the black person who lives a few houses down. Figures. I thought it would be the young guy who visits, but nope. It was actually the old lady that lives there. They just can’t drop their ghetto ways no matter where they go, can they?

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2015 I didn’t have an asthma attack, but sure enough, my heart raced me awake at 1:30 AM. Well, I’m not sure if it raced me awake on its own or if the dream I had caused it to do so where I was in a crowded mall or something in some strange place, and lost track of Tom. All I know is that I had to take a lorazepam for the first time since last spring to help me fall back asleep.

I awoke slightly anxious and depressed but with no booming heart. I don’t feel jittery at all. I’m just frustrated because I don’t know for sure what’s causing what. Is it the dosage increase or is it just me? Every time I think I’m home free and I gain my confidence, something happens to pull my sense of security down a notch. Once again I am dealing with a kind of anxiety that I have never experienced before in my life and it gets to me at times. I usually feel confident and carefree, and hopefully I will be feeling that way soon enough and not progressively worsen. If I do then I will have to get to the labs so they can check my TSH, but especially my T4.

It’s frustrating because when I’m not experiencing something bad I spend too much time worrying that I will. I have been anti-psych drugs due to the fact that they can be addicting as well as carry side effects. However, if this keeps up and they rule out my thyroid dose as being the culprit, I’m going to tell that shrink in December to just go ahead and give me a full-time prescription regardless of the possible risks and the fact that it may make me drowsy. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to too, as that’s how they make their living. They’re licensed drug dealers, in a sense, only they spent time chatting with you while they’re at it. It’s still hard to believe that something that wasn’t normal for me in the past could now be normal for me, but I guess anything is possible.

The good news is that my lungs are like they usually are, crystal clear and wide open. I had a little bit of congestion when I woke up and I worried I might have an attack, but I didn’t. Fortunately, Tom was still home but my mind still went “what-ifing” on me. What if I have a severe anxiety attack when he’s not home or what if I have a severe asthma attack? That attack was the worst I’d had in 10 years. I’m keeping track of everything I feel and experience for my doctors, but hopefully, I won’t have to get in to see them sooner than originally planned.

I’ve lost a surprising 5 pounds in just 6 days. Fasting 8 hours a day may also be playing on my moods. Yesterday I felt both weak and shaky so I needed to eat a little earlier than usual.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2015 So I survived the night without another asthma attack. Sure woke up a million times along the way, though, but I feel rested enough.

It wasn't even 9 o'clock when sure enough, the weekday racket began. I heard a wood chipper running on and off somewhere.

Not much else to report on this chilly morning that is supposed to turn into a 94° afternoon other than that I had a dream that the cops pulled up to where I was living in the dream, and that appeared to be a strip of one-story apartments or condos. I must have either done something bad or thought the cops might believe that I did something bad because I was definitely not happy to see them. I woke up trying to decide whether or not I should answer the door when they knocked or if I should go run and hide and hope for the best.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2015 After a productive day of installing our beautiful new chandelier, bike riding and other things, I ended up having a rather scary night. I got into bed and was just about to knock off when I felt what I thought was a little glob of phlegm stuck in my lungs to cough up. But then I just kept coughing and suddenly started wheezing my ass off and felt as if my lungs were full of mud. It was the worst asthma attack I’d had in years and for a fleeting moment, I considered going to the ER since Tom said he heard they stopped selling Primatene Mist OTC. It shocks the shit out of me just how unexpected, sudden and fierce the attack was, but our little finger reader did say I was 99% oxygenated and my pulse was a comfortable 84.

Tom feels confident I just got too carried away with my obsession for good smells… perfume, incense, wax… and I hope to hell he’s right and that this isn’t the beginning of a whole new problem for me. As it is I’ll be a little nervous going to bed tonight. Pretty sure whatever it was was in the bed because that’s where it started and it eased up whenever I’d leave the room. Also, I did run out of Febreeze fabric freshener and I did spray some patchouli on the bed. So all the bedding will be washed today. All of it. Including the mattress pad.

Unless it keeps happening after refraining from my smellies, we doubt it was caused by my thyroid dosage increase. He found online that asthma can be an indicator of Hashimoto’s (I guess the whole auto-immune thing is connected), but if you’re going to experience an allergic reaction to the thyroid meds (rash, tightness), it should happen right away. Some people are allergic to the fillers that hold the meds together.

The only other thing he read was that adjusting your thyroid meds can affect your asthma meds if you’re taking any, and I’m not. Sure wished I had an inhaler last night, though, even though that might’ve made me more congested at first. If it happens again I’ll contact my doctors. I’m glad I have a better team of doctors than I had last year and that they deal with me in a quicker, more efficient manner, but hopefully, it won’t be one more thing I have to worry about in the end. I’m trying to be positive and not remind myself that most of my problems aren’t short-lived.

I’m still a little shaky, tight and congested, but I am recovering. Hot caffeine and a shower helped a lot. Gonna take it easy today and just see what happens. I just know I’m sick and tired of this fucking on-and-off medical drama.

Later…

Still alive but a bit shaken up both physically and emotionally over last night’s asthma attack. Tom was a huge help whacking my back (pulmonary cupping) to help loosen things up and kick up the congestion, making me coffee… that sort of thing. I just hope it doesn’t happen again! It was scary, but not nearly as scary as when my heart took off on a run last year. I still have on-and-off tightness and when I cough it tastes like shit. All the bedding has been washed, though, and I’ve stayed away from the perfume and incense.

When choosing a cheaper insurance plan that should save us a grand or two per year, Tom noticed I had a couple of notifications on the health site saying 2 of my 4 appointments have been canceled (ear and PCP). Tom suspects the doctors are either going on vacation at those times or there was a glitch in the system. The ear isn’t critical, but I would like to see my PCP so I can get an inhaler that won’t mess with my meds in case of another emergency. Even as a non-smoker, I’m bound to have occasional attacks, though 99% of the time my lungs are crystal clear and wide open.

We ordered new toilets that will hopefully arrive on Friday because Tom will have 3 days off. They’re just basic oblong-shaped toilets that are 16” high. The only fancy feature they have is overflow systems. It’s like what our dishwasher has. They were $150 apiece.

As Tom said, I’m getting to be a real home improvement expert. LOL, yeah, he’s taught me well. Not just in Phoenix and Maricopa, but here I learned more about how carpet is laid. I’ve helped change faucets, change ceiling fans, change chandeliers, and next, we’ll be doing toilets and then eventually floors.

A few nights ago I dreamed I called my dad and told him I had good news and bad news. The bad news was that we’d have to rent a place for a while, but the good news was that the house we were renting was nice and it seemed to be a quiet neighborhood.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2015 I still have over 100 more lessons to take in my Dutch course, so I probably won’t finish this year. Dutch may not be that tough overall, but the spelling is the toughest of any language I’ve ever studied!

Came up nearly 200 places in LiveJournal’s user ratings today.

Chatted with Tammy on Facebook yesterday. She’s really having a rough time of it health-wise. She developed arthritis when she was only in her 20s and got 6 shots in her neck yesterday. That hurts just thinking about it! She also has Fibromyalgia, which I read was very common. It’s where your muscles swell around the nerves, and I guess she may need surgery to cut the nerves. It’s like something up there really has it in for her at least in that department. As tough as it’s been I’m glad she has a beautiful home and doesn’t have to suffer in some uncomfortable dumpy place in a shitty neighborhood with shitty weather. And she’s not alone either, since she has Mark and the girls.

My first 2 weeks on the new dose have been a success and my T4 is now where it's going to be. About 6 more weeks for the TSH to settle in!

I was a little shocked and even a bit worried when Tom told me his pulse was just 45 when he got up. The lowest it’s ever been upon waking up was 49. I told him to tell his doctor about it, which he will see soon. It climbed into the 60s in no time at all, but still, I wonder if that could be something to be concerned with.

I’m just the opposite. Even calm and relaxed my pulse can average about 90.

Later…

My period snuck up on me today without any warning. I’m amazed I wasn’t hungry as hell yesterday as is usually the case the day before my period. Especially since I started an IF diet. I guess I can write about that, though I won’t make this public just yet, since I have no reason to believe that the same thing won’t happen again where I continue to diet but my body refuses to give up more than a few pounds. I’ve been sticking to it religiously, too.

Experience has proven to me that I simply cannot stick to having 1000 calories a day long-term in order to lose weight. I’m up an average of 16 hours as are most people, and trying to spread a measly 1000 cals over that many hours is just way too hard. So I gave up on dieting and assumed I was simply meant to be heavy just like your average middle-aged person. I knew that I would have to resort to something a bit extreme in order to lose weight if I was ever going to. The question was what? I wasn’t about to take any medication and risk side effects, I didn’t have the willpower to starve myself indefinitely, and could never stand the thought of puking up my food, all of which is unhealthy anyway.

But then I read some other people’s journals about IF diets, which means intermittent fasting. This is nothing new and it’s not like I haven’t heard about this before, I just never gave it that much thought. Three days ago I decided to try a 16/24 variation where I don’t eat until I’ve been up for 8 hours. I’m on the third day of doing this. Yes, it’s very hard, but it’s hard in a different kind of way than it was when I’d try to stretch 1000 calories over an entire day. By cutting my stomach’s typical hours in half, which is what I’m doing in a sense, I only have 8 hours in which to consume those 1000 calories. I live 16 hours a day, but my stomach only lives 8 hours a day. This means that I spend those 8 hours eating hourly, and not feeling hungry at all. It sums up to me being asleep for 8 hours, satisfying my hunger for 8 hours, and spending 8 hours being hungry instead of 16 hours being hungry. I could still go to Denny’s or someplace like that every so often and eat all I wanted so long as I did it toward the second half of my day. I chose to fast during the first half of my day because that’s when I’m typically the least hungry.

I also learned that as long as you don’t get carried away with the fasting, no, you don’t lose your muscles and you don’t become dizzy or sluggish. In fact, I’ve had just as much energy as I usually do. I’m actually surprised at just how good I feel on this diet despite being hungry. As with most things, if you overdo it, then it becomes dangerous. Intermittent fasting is said by some doctors to actually be good for the body. It’s a sort of detox for the system. At least this is what research has told me.

Thursday, the day I started this, I woke up at 151.2 pounds. Yesterday I was 149.4 pounds. Today I’m 148.8 pounds. The big test will be to see if I can get under 147 pounds. The last time I was under that amount was when I was sick. My body usually holds its weight and refuses to cross that threshold under other circumstances. At least it’s been that way since 2009 anyway. I should know in a few days. If it keeps working I will decide whether or not to actually continue losing weight. There are pros and cons to both, and both need to be considered. I know I would be healthier if I lost 30 pounds, but now is not a good time to be getting new clothes since we want to save as much money as we can for vacation. I started this more out of curiosity than anything else, and being curious by nature, I am likely going to want to see how far I can take it if I continue to be a success.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2015 Yesterday I ranked 14,099 out of LiveJournal’s top 100,000 journals and today I’m at 13,949. Interesting tidbit of information.

We’ve got 3 insurance plans to choose from and we’re probably going to go with the middle one. They each have their pros and cons. The third plan is good for if you rarely see doctors or are sick, but our current plan isn’t the greatest if you need a couple of specialists like I do (ear & endo). The only way the middle plan could cost us a lot would be if one of us were ever hospitalized.

So yesterday I’m sitting at my computer when I hear Bob’s blower start up and I’m like, WTF? It hasn’t been a week since he’s blown his place. He never blows himself more than once a week. Then I saw him on the roof. He was obviously blowing leaves out of the gutters.

I stepped out front and said hello. I thought he might ignore me, but he and Virginia (who I didn’t notice right away) were actually very friendly. So I took the time to admit I probably shouldn’t have said anything before, since one does have a right to repair their walkways, they were here first, and I can’t expect my neighbors to be silent 100% of the time.

They were actually friendlier than ever and we had a pleasant chat as I swept down the patio. Can’t deny it felt good to know we were on good terms. I really thought they were mad at me, and well, no one wants hostility so close to home, do they?

They asked when I was going on vacation, which they thought was sooner. We talked about the weather, and Bob asked how my writing was going. He said if I had anything published he wanted to read it. “Good luck with that,” I told him, LOL. He’d need a Kindle for that. What I didn’t tell him was that I highly doubted I wrote the kind of stuff he’d like to read. :)

I haven’t published anything in ages. Just not enough money to be worth the hassle. The writing world is so all or nothing. You either make a fortune (and become famous which I wouldn’t want) or you don’t make shit.

I should finish Rainstorm’s visual editing today. Tomorrow I’ll start the electronic read-through. Then I’ll share.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2015 I caught the mailman yesterday and told him I accidentally gave him a DHL number when he asked if I ever got the package. Our money was refunded actually, and it probably didn’t even make it into the country before it got lost.

I mentioned the nice weather as he placed the mail into the boxes and how he must really appreciate the dryness doing what he does. He said that at least he didn’t have to mow the lawn. He also said he didn’t get why they won’t spend money to bring water down from Alaska while they have no problem sending money to other countries. I don’t get it either. Maybe someday the government will let us in on their reasons why it is so important to give so much money to other countries so that it can finally make at least a little bit of sense to us. There’s got to be some logic to it and it would be nice if they would tell us about it. No one throws away billions of dollars like that without good reason, or at least I would hope.

I walked through a bank in my dreams last night where they were searching for someone who stole 2 million dollars. I was heading to take a train home as I struggled to pull a hoodie over my head when I realized I didn’t have my purse with me. I raced off hoping to hell my purse was still where I left it and fearing I would miss the train.

In another dream, Tom and I were in the car and marveling over how we haven’t had any money issues for years now. I was polishing my nails red in the car of all places. I’d gotten 2 nails polished when we pulled up to one of my doctor’s offices. I sat on a stool in the waiting room and resumed polishing my nails, but after just 2 more nails the stool toppled over and I hit the floor. As soon as I hit the floor, the nurse came to call me into an exam room.

Later…

Andy is continuing to annoy me with the daily food talk. Really, I am so fucking sick and tired of having to know it every goddamn time he eats. He is either seriously obsessed with food or deliberately trying to annoy me. It’s probably a combination of both, but knowing that he knows how constant repetition bothers me yet continues to go on and on about it excessively, makes me question the validity of his friendship yet again. What the hell kind of friend goes out of his way to annoy others they’re supposed to consider a friend?

First he was saying that he was eating some chili that Marla, who’s returning to Cali tomorrow, made while she was there. I ignored it, as usual, by responding with a different subject. 45 minutes later he reports that he just finished lunch.

45 minutes to eat lunch? Obsessed with food or not, I highly doubt it took that long to eat lunch. I swear it’s like he just wants to annoy me, but that will be met with me checking in less and less. Maybe the dumb shit will put two and two together eventually.

He did say one thing that was funny, though. I told him I was proud of myself for figuring out why I lost sound on my computer, but was glad to know I had Tom here as a backup. Then I said, “Maybe you’ll want a BF someday and he’ll be a real computer techie.”

He replied with, “I couldn’t get that lucky. He’ll be a jobless loser living with his mother.”

LOL, I hate to say it, but it’s so true. This was all I used to get as well, and I wonder why that changed for me but not for him. Maybe because he never matured personally or intellectually?

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2015 Decisions, decisions. Do I work in the laundry room today no matter what? Or do I wait and see if Bob starts any shit out there first?

Sometimes I still think maybe it was silly of me to be bothered by the walkway work since he does have a right to do repairs, but then I remember his shit attitude and that wipes any guilt or regrets away.

I’ve been making a point not to run into him so he doesn’t provoke me in any way. If I assaulted someone between 18-70, they’d do a fraction of what was done to me for the “letter.” But an 86-year-old would get me imprisoned for at least a decade or so. Society has a “But they’re defenseless!” attitude. Not a “They don’t have much longer to live anyway,” attitude.

Then again, does he not really have much longer to live? He could easily be fit enough to use hammers and power tools for another 5-10 years, which would be like a lifetime to me, of course.

I hated to do this, but I realized that if something suddenly happened to Tom, I would be so distraught that I would have a hard time thinking clearly as I did what I wanted to do before killing myself and then actually killing myself. Therefore, I wrote out some final steps to take. I still think he’s going to die first, and that means I will almost certainly one day have to carry these plans out on my own, as terrifying as they may be. But death can suddenly sneak up on us when we least expect it. How can I be sure the pigs won’t knock on the door to say he was killed on the way to or from work? Therefore, I knew I needed a clear plan mapped out before my eyes because I sure as hell wouldn’t be thinking clearly as the sadness, loss, fear and anger engulfed and consumed me upon hearing such tragic news. Whether he dies younger or as an old man, no one will be here to calmly tell me, do this, then do this, and then do that. But the list I made will.

Later…

My goal has been to learn at least enough of the basics or beyond in as many languages as I can. But sometimes I wonder if I should perfect my best language instead, which would be Spanish since it’s so common here in the US.

Then I say naw, I don’t think so. If you come to my country, then my language takes precedence over yours, like it or not. You wanna cry discrimination for that, fine. But I’m from here and if you come to my land then you should be willing to learn my language. Besides, I still know a great deal of the language. I was stuck in a jail cell in Arizona with someone who only spoke Spanish and we got by just fine, as did the housekeeper and I who cleaned our hotel room up in Oregon. I don’t use the language every single day, but I still read things online in Spanish from time to time and can understand the gist of what I read. Speaking and hearing another language is always harder than reading, but let’s just say that I don’t expect any problems in Mexico any more than I expected them in Puerto Rico.

Anyway, we went out bike riding. It was chilly, slightly breezy, and very comfortable for a rigorous ride. I wanted to go even faster, but Tom always complains if I go too fast, LOL.

I got an idea on how to make my own treadmill desk so I at least have the option of using the laptop there if I ever want to. Taking two of the old fan blades and stretching them across the rails, I can epoxy them together. Then I can run cable ties through the screw holes to secure it to the rails. Then again, this may look totally goofy in the end, so I don’t know.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2015 Yesterday was fun, productive, loud and annoying. We went to Home Depot shortly after they opened to look at ceiling fans and toilets. Apparently, the Disabilities Act has caused toilets to go from a standard 14” in height to 16.5”. Not a very good thing if you’re as short as I am, but they do still have some 14’s and that’s what we’ll probably get. We decided on elongated bowls rather than round, but this is still a couple of weeks away.

They charge 100 bucks per toilet for installation, plus 25 bucks for each of the old toilets to be hauled away, so we decided to save $250 and do it ourselves. Except for the carpet, we’ve always been do-it-yourselfers.

We got a new ceiling fan for the living room. It’s the same 52” and the same brand as the old one, only this one is white and it has five blades instead of four. It was $70. Our living room is cavernous, so on really warm days the old one barely moved much air toward the corners. It has three thick frosted light fixtures that are sort of cone-shaped. We put the LED bulbs in it that were in the old one, which should last around 20 years.

While we were looking at ceiling fans, my eyes casually swung to the nearby chandeliers, and then I spotted one that totally made my jaw drop. I was just like, OMG, that thing is gorgeous! The original chandelier in this place isn’t ugly and it does go with the place, but it’s not me. Once our new gorgeous crystal chandelier I'm surprised was only $99 is installed, I’ll take pictures of the old and the new like I did with the fans.

After Home Depot we went to Walmart where we got a handful of goodies. He got some storage containers for electronic and computer-related parts that will help him organize things better, and I got Emeraude perfume, which has a unique fruity smell.

I also got a beautiful tropical calendar for next year and a semi-realistic-looking vinyl king snake that I placed by the door and wished my mother could come back to life long enough to visit, LOL. It’s not as realistic as my rattler, but it’s enough to jolt the heart of the unsuspecting. We would see these snakes every now and then down in Arizona. The way they move is really cool. There was an all-black king snake that one could easily mistake for an old tire scrap that used to watch us when we would be out and about on the land. It would usually stick its head up out of a hole in the ground. These were harmless snakes, but the Western diamondback, as cool looking as it was, was one to be careful of. Tom came as close to death as he’d ever gotten the night he started to go out and get something from the car only to be greeted by a rattlesnake right outside the door. With the hospital being nearly an hour away, that would definitely not be a good place to get struck.

I also got some scented wax cubes and the most sparkly eyeshadow I’ve ever seen in six different colors. It was the only one there. Am I too old to wear glitter eyeshadow? Yeah, probably. Do I care? Definitely not. Damn, I love being too selfish to care what others think! ;) I wish I had this attitude half a century ago.

Our Walmart purchases were free since we had gift cards.

I also have a couple of collectibles on the way to me from Amazon… a sexy “secretary” and an anime doll.

I’ll write about the shit we came home to later on.

Later…

So the shit we came home to. That would be the very loud process of a tree being cut down behind the house. Yeah, we can’t go much more than a month or two without something going on here, can we? And this is on top of all the landscaping and traffic noise I hear almost daily.

Heard about 6 whacks of a hammer somewhere too, but if it wasn’t Bob doing it just to make me hear him, then I don’t know where it came from. The only sound I’m sure he made was when he was blowing leaves for about 15-20 minutes.

Anyway, they worked on the tree for about 3 hours. Not the all-day event I thought it would be like when they took down a tree next door last year, but it was just as loud, especially the wood chipper. They sawed the branches down, then they tossed them in the chipper, then they blew leaves out of the road.

Unfortunately, I’m almost back on days, so I can just imagine what shit I’m in for today. If nothing else, it’ll be the Tuesday landscapers and God knows what from Bob.

I’ve had a few moments where I thought I felt a bit anxious, but I have otherwise had no problem on the new dose. I wish it were December already. If I can make it to then without incident, then I should be fine.

After dreaming about my dentist selling wallpaper and finding a huge bug with a strange paisley design on it, I awoke to find my hips oddly sore. After I get up after sitting for a while, it’s very uncomfortable. I don’t understand just what I did to get this sore. I helped with the fan installation, but I wasn’t the one climbing up and down the ladder. I just opened and handed him stuff so he wouldn’t have to keep climbing up and down. I did a lot of walking yesterday through the stores, so maybe I just need to do that more since biking works different muscles.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2015 As of this day I have been smoke-free for 18 years… yay!

As of yesterday, I decided the next series I would watch on Netflix would be Criminal Minds.

About 6 hours ago, we went out bike riding. There was thunder and lightning all around us in the distance, but not a drop of rain here. Not surprisingly, there’s no rain predicted over the next week. Just some clouds with temps in the 80s.

I had a dream I met Aly somewhere. First I was pissed because I forgot my meds. She searched her car but couldn’t find them anywhere.

She was then humming some tune while happily cooking something in the kitchen of what looked like a regular house in which I was standing just outside. Behind her stood a washer and dryer that looked familiar. I pulled out my smartphone and texted her that I think I once had that same washer and dryer. Haha.

Then we were at a hotel and I was pissed again because she brought along two other women she didn’t tell me she was bringing and they never shut up. Every time I tried to initiate a conversation with her, one of the women would butt in.

The following morning I woke up, turned the portable sound machine off that I had brought with me, and found that I was alone in the room. Then I got up to use the bathroom. The toilet lid was decorated with hearts and a little bookcase stood nearby. As I lifted the lid and sat down, I plucked what appeared to be a horror story off the shelf and tried to decide if it was worth stealing since we were leaving that day.

Later…

Many people on Facebook "liked" that I've been smoke-free for 18 years except for my sister and nieces. Figures, too. I mean I knew they wouldn’t. I started to make excuses for them in my mind from them being busy to them having too many posts in their news feed to read through, but that just doesn’t seem like something family should miss. Norma “liked” it and she’s just a distant cousin.

When Tom and I were talking about places we may possibly travel to in the future, we both agreed that Europe isn’t very appealing. Most of it is too old, cold, and crowded. I like tropical places anyway. The only country there that I might consider is Greece. It has some very beautiful sections that really stand out from your traditional European setting. I doubt we’ll go there, though.

It pisses me off just how tight so many of my clothes have become. A year ago, when I was temporarily scared off my thyroid meds, I gained a few pounds that I haven’t been able to get back off ever since, thanks to the incompetent assholes that didn’t care to help me. I keep whatever I put on, so that’s why it’s important not to gain any more weight if I can help it.

There is just no way I’m ever going to have the willpower to stand the hunger, irritability, dizziness, and sluggishness that would come with having 1000 calories every single day for the many months it would take to lose 30 pounds. I might be able to lose it on 1200 a day, but even that isn’t very doable. I really need about 1500 a day. I hate feeling so powerless when it comes to my body, but that’s just life for most people. Nobody chooses to get cancer, break bones, have heart attacks and so much more… including getting so damn fat.

There are things that are a normal everyday part of life, and then there are extremes that continue to make me wonder if there isn’t something up there that has singled me out and picked on me for reasons I’ll never understand.

I consider myself agnostic as opposed to atheist because I have no idea if there is a God or not. Every time I think of reasons that suggest there could be, I am then presented with reasons to suggest just the opposite, and that God is just a fantasy fabricated as a means of controlling others and coping with this thing called life. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife either, and if there is one, I don’t know what it is.

But let’s say there is a God. One that picks and chooses what happens to us, good and bad. What made me turn against God? some people have asked. What was it that finally made you hate Him so much and when?

My hatred grew and my faith faded in stages. Four stages, actually. Funny too, because there are four stages of cancer, the fourth being the deadliest.

Stage 1: When I was struggling to conceive a child back in the 90s was when I really began to stop and take a good hard look at things stemming all the way back to my childhood. The childhood abuse, the constant rejection, not being able to get a woman I really lusted for, sexual/infertility problems, and then money issues, all made me start to wonder. WTF? What is this shit??? Could I really be cursed?

Stage 2: Yeah, I could be. At the hands of a God or just because? Well, I may never know, but when I was legally railroaded in 2000, I looked back and saw a clear and frightening pattern emerge. Everyone who ever screwed me over had gotten away with it. Totally! It was as if something up there had been protecting them all along, and this was when I really felt myself start to turn against God. I’m sure you can imagine what it was like when we lost our home in Arizona and then our land up in Oregon a few years later.

Stage 3: From 2007-2011 we suffered immensely financially and this is what really drove my hatred for any possible God home. We were pushed within a fraction of an inch to having to choose between the streets or death. Both of them would have meant death either way; the question was whether or not we wanted to get it over with quickly or die a slow miserable death in the streets. Our answer was obvious, although we certainly didn’t want our lives to end that way and that young, knowing we still had another 30-40 years left. We lived in a bummy old trailer with shit for space, and we didn’t always have enough money for necessities.

Stage 4: Ah, the final killer. That would be last year’s medical scare. It was one of the most terrifying and traumatizing experiences of my life. Even though I didn’t technically have a foot in the grave like I did a few years ago, this was what drove the nail firmly into the coffin. If anything could be up there with more power than any of us could ever have and it chose to sit back and allow for us horror, then I have no respect for it whatsoever. So God… if you exist, fine. If you hate me, fine. But I will never ever forgive you for the pain and suffering which you have allowed to be unfairly and unnecessarily inflicted upon me. Ever.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2015 Sometimes I find that it helps to get my anger toward certain individuals out by fantasizing about violence against them. At my hands, of course, and without ever getting caught. For years I fantasized about taking a huge yacht out in the middle of the ocean along with everybody that screwed me in Arizona. There I would slowly torture them in so many different ways, letting them believe they would be killed in the end. Only I allow them to live so that they are forced to live with the memories of what I did to them unless they so choose to end it all themselves.

My latest mental target is Bob. I’ve been on nights, so for all I know he might have quieted down recently. Still, he really pissed the shit out of me. Not just with his racket being so close to our house, but with his attitude and the way he suggested I consider getting an office somewhere. That was just so incredibly rude. Why doesn’t he consider shutting up?

Because we’re neighbors, I have others do my dirty work in one of my fantasies. In it, I take advantage of the fact that they love to keep their front door open, and a small group of strange men they’ve never seen before suddenly step inside while they’re just a few feet away eating lunch at their dining table. One guy holds Virginia down so she can’t call for help (hey, she’s the quiet one after all) while the others surround Bob and accuse him of owing thousands of dollars in gambling debt which he of course knows absolutely nothing about.

Because he was supposedly ordered to pay up a few times and didn’t do so, the guy decides to go “Turkey” on him. In Turkey, they cut off the fingers of a thief. In this fantasy a guy places Bob’s right hand upon the table after picking up the heaviest object he sees and smashes his fingers, thus disabling him from ever picking up a hammer or a circular saw ever again, but allowing him to live so Virginia doesn’t move and possibly leave me to get someone worse over there.

My guess is they’ll be here another decade. The next people would certainly be younger, but their chances of having kids would be iffy with more and more women being pressured to work rather than have families. Dogs? I don’t know. I thought everybody but us would have dogs here, but given that this is the West and they must be brought in as pets only here, I think that’s why a lot of people don’t bother. They just don’t think it’s right to take a dog indoors.

Even though these are just fantasies, vicious or not, I don’t want to post this publicly. What if? Just what if somebody actually does something to them? Well, I wouldn’t want these fantasies sitting out there for anyone to see at that point. Other than Tom, I’m not even going to share this with Andy or Aly. Just my sister.

I don’t get it. I just don’t get it at times. So many people half his age can barely walk half a mile. I’m sure my parents couldn’t conceive of riding a bike by the time they hit their mid-70s. Yet here’s this 86-year-old who can do anything a guy in his 20s can do. He walks 2 miles a day, rides his bike, operates his little workshop, and goes out every day. Never ever have I seen him take a day off to just stay inside and relax at home. It’s like he has an endless supply of energy, and based on how often I see lights on over there, they only sleep about 6 hours a night. The lights seemed to go off at 11 PM and come on at 5 AM, another thing I won’t say in public. They don’t have a computer, but what if their kids looked me up? LOL… LMAO! “Mom! Dad! The lady next door wants to smash your fingers and she knows when the lights are on, too!” ROTFL

I had to laugh when I saw a Sex Positions adult coloring book on Amazon. But all you would need was just one color… flesh tone. LOL

Tom and I were both looking at different brands of colored pencils and who would have thought there would be so many! Not so many brands, but so many different types of pencils for so many different types of projects.

I have just one episode left of Law & Order SVU on Netflix, and then I will need to find a new show since they don’t have a steady stream of movies I want to watch.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2015 I was up longer than I thought I would be and didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would, so I was a bit tired today.

Cousin Norma shared an article with me on Facebook about these heroic African Pouched rats that can sniff out old landmines as well as tuberculosis. I’ve heard of this before but it’s still just as fascinating. :)

Doing laundry now and looking forward to Tom’s 3-day weekend. Some of it will be spent picking out a new ceiling fan for the living room and new toilets as well.

We visited Tom’s sister in my dreams last night, and on the drive home, I asked him why he thought her house smelled so good even though she had dogs. He said, “Some people use flowers.”

LOL

On with the laundry and grocery list now.

Last night I had that feeling again where my head felt a bit off, kind of lightheaded, and I even felt slightly tight. I know I had a little wheezing and congestion during one of the many times I woke up yesterday because I remember coughing it up when I got up to pee.

I felt slightly bummed too, and the more things go well for us, the more I will return to worrying about the future and who’s going to be there for us when we get old, and how much suffering we might have to go through.

The nights may be peaceful, but there is something that can be a bit depressing about it at times. I guess because it's just all wrong. It's just not normal to be up all night. I should be in bed along with everybody else, but I have been denied that basic human right for half of my life since I can only sleep at night half of the time. But then I would also hate always being on days because then I’d always have to listen to people’s shit around here. Almost always, anyway.

In regard to my sleep schedule curse, Andy really annoyed me with his big mouth by butting into that post Norma made with the rat article. He said something about me going to sleep but he was sure I would appreciate it once I got up.

As I told him in a PM, just like it’s nobody’s business what his work schedule is, it’s nobody’s business what my sleep schedule is.

I realized I don’t have as much of an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude as I thought I had and would like to have once it hit me just how uncomfortable I am with discussing my sleep disorder. It’s the one thing I’m actually a bit ashamed and embarrassed of. Until people’s attitudes change or it becomes more common, it’s not something I can just easily up and talk about with just anyone. Despite the fact that Norma is a very open-minded individual and would never assume something doesn’t exist just because she may not get it, I have become a lot more private than I was years ago. There was hardly a subject I omitted from my public journals in the past. Not anymore, though. You just never know what information can be used against you in ways you can’t control. Yes, I’m still a big stickler for free speech, and if I’ve got something to say I’m going to say it. However, just because I’m not ashamed that I was in jail since I was innocent and didn’t deserve it, no one needs to know that, do they? Why disclose unnecessarily? It isn’t what they think I worry about with some subjects, but what they may try to do.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2015 It didn’t get as cold in here as I thought it would early in the morning, but it did drop to 72° and I kicked the heat on for a few minutes before going to bed at which time I slept horribly. First, a loud vehicle woke me up because I forgot to insert my earplug, and then it seemed I just kept waking up for no reason at all. No racy hearts, though.

Sometimes when I think how I’ve got a dozen or so more winters here, and in a place with so much traffic, it kind of gets me down. Today was gorgeous, though. Tom and I went out on the bikes early in the evening.

Aly does have the early stages of leukemia and I guess they’re going to continue with the blood transfusions for a few months and inject some kind of medication into the blood while they’re at it. I really hope this gets rid of it!

I had a series of strange dreams. Tom overslept because he didn’t feel well, and then I was getting dressed to go somewhere with my mother. I grabbed a high-heeled sandal and slipped it on my foot. When I was unable to find the other one, I switched to flats and said, ”These are much more comfortable anyway.”

Then I might have been staying in some fancy hotel suite where housekeepers were doing my laundry and changing the bed sheets.

It seemed there was a cat in my dreams, too. Lots of cat dreams since Simone left.

Then two of my doctors were in my dreams. In one dream I was seeing my PCP and I said something like, “It seems there’s one thing after another. As soon as you take care of one problem, you have a new one to deal with.”

In response to that she said, ”We never realize the time in between.”

Then I was in a large swimming pool with my endo and some guy. I was doing all kinds of intricate dives that I wouldn’t have a clue as to how to do in real life. That was the only fun and entertaining dream… watching myself flip, twist and spin through the air and into the water. LOL

[salaciousdoll]

Rumors of salacious city pretty, pink princess have gone haywire, find out why she’s the number one topic in this debauchery city of pink desires ✩

ৎ୭ Have a look at the princess’s website, see why rumors are brewing!!

Gosh, the princess is such a bitch, she get everything she wants, but what can we expect she is a Gemini. They tend to be pretentious bitches… mhm Mhm. She’s also twenty years old, goes by she/her pronouns as well. Can't forget that she’s a bisexual, maybe that’s why she’s a bitch, she get the best of both worlds without anyone interfering because if they do, the guards cut them down! Her favorite colors are light pink, blue, and purple and she’s a mocha and hello kitty enthusiasts! Look here! She also states she has a thing for older men, talk about daddy issues or what?

☆〜（ゝ。∂) Pay Attention to what the pretty dolly loves, psss that’s another alias she goes by

Bratz doll collections, 2000s girly movies, the color pink, Older men (she clearly has no limits, what a shameless girl!!) strawberry Poundcake perfume and their diamond mist, cupcake swirl body fantasies perfume, Victoria secret velvet petal spray and lotion, Grape soda, hot chips, Mac and cheese, ramen noodles preferably beef( yeah she deserves whatever the public throws at her for this type of flavor), hello kitty plushies, Draken’s black ponytail( “good for her to yank”, oh she’s such a whoreee), baking brownies, eos vanilla cashmere lotion, pink Friday 2, yummy lipgloss, clear Dior lipgloss, her hello kitty mirror, her leg warmers, off shoulder tops, pink blush on cheeks, Nicki Minaj pink Friday 2 album, and finally her hello kitty sleep mask.

☆〜（ゝ。∂) Pay Attention to what the pretty dolly hates, *hint hint* maybe that’s what got the rumors started

Hates phony people, the color yellow and gray, racist people, colorist people, anti-abortion people(Ooh that one was probably the deal breaker for lots of people), Spiders, false accusations, Nonchalant people, lavender scents of anything like ewwww yucky( what did lavender do to her?!!), fics/drabbles with multiple characters at the bottom, plug troupe, people who complain about stuff when you could just block the tag, cardi b with a passion, misogynist and misogynoir people, people with Ed issues who make fun of fat/chubby people

☆〜（ゝ。∂) Now pay close attention to her dating record, MAN! she sure does get around. Guess that’s why rumors spread!

She was last seen with a man with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, he has tattoos all over his body, mainly his neck. He was a tall man, Ohh wait wait, it’s South Terano. But just last week, she was with Taiju Shiba and the week before last week she was with Ken Ryuuguji. The princess is a slut for these men, I wonder what her family would say? What the salacious officials would say as well?

Let’s take another look at the pictures of men and women she loved or crushed on…

Jjk: Gojo satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Hiromi Higuruma, Ino takuma, Nanami( this is apparently on and off), Atsuya Kusakabe, Geto Suguru( on and off as well), Choso Kamo( he’s starting to become one of her crushes), principal Yaga, Shoko ieiri, and Yuki tsukumo

Tokyo revengers: Draken, Mikey sano, South Terano, Taiju Shiba, Senju Akashi, Keizo Arashi, Kakucho, Yuzuha, Hina, Hanma, and Takemitchy

Aot: Erwin Smith, Eren yeager( sometimes when she’s feeling horny horny, wow!), onyankopon Levi Ackerman, Mikasa Ackerman, Annie Leonhart, Armin Arlert, Miche Zacharias, Hange Zoe, Pieck Finger, Sasha Braus, Jean Kirstein, and Yelena .

Jjba: Risotto Nero, Prosciutto, Jotaro Kujo, Bruno Bucciarati, Mista, the entire group of la squadra, Abbachio, Hermes, Joylene Cujoh, diavolo, weather report, Anasui, Kars, and Kira

[countrymusicandcher]

TRIO - Dolly Parton, Lidna Ronstadt & Emmylou Harris, 1987.

[bradshawsweetheart]

Here we go, me yelling again🤠

But this thing lying before you, the one wearing the skin of the man that loves you like a sacrilegious coat, does not deserve peace. Bradley does. Wherever he is, if he is alive, if he is dead, if he is asleep, if he is awake…Bradley deserves peace.  

The complexity of what’s going on is so masterful and I just want to cry LOL

Everyone is waiting for him to do something, save everyone. 

He wonders if they’ll remember him saying that. He wonders if they’ll remember anything he said or did. He wonders if they’ll remember the way his voice trembled. 

Javy baby😭 literal weight of the world on his and Nat’s shoulders

They will always remember what Miss Phoenix sounded like when Mister Bob died right there in front of everyone, his body pale and bloody and her wails deafening.

This is so heartbreaking and reminds me of the behind the scenes fact of the [REDACTED] movie where they had to cut the audio of Daniel Radcliffe’s wailing over Gary Oldman because it was too gut-wrenching🥲

“I’m a boy scout,” he answers incredulously. Like, duh. Of course. That’s how. 

I just cackled LMAO

But you. You’re someone he can help. You’re someone that just shot three times.

And she’s the someone with only one bullet left now ono

“Look at these guns, huh? Who’d wanna tussle with me?”

He’s trying so hard to reassure them I’m so sad LOL

He wonders, momentarily, if it will sound like that forever now that you’ve been choked within an inch of your life. 

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m from District 12.

Coyote’s eyes fall to the ground. You can see it written across his face--the grief, the shock. His brows knit and his lips turn down.

Oh baby :(((((

“He hasn’t done anything except crop his own shirts and-and make goo-goo eyes at Gale. Right? Something isn’t right here.” 

LMFAOOOOO SO TRUE!!

“Bradley isn’t my best friend,” Phoenix whispers. “Bob was.”

Oof, poor word choice Javy🥲

“You mean you?” Phoenix asks--her tone is pointed and frustrated, but you’re not angry with her. 

Natasha pls😭😭

“If he’s possessed…” Phoenix starts, scratching her head and wilting beneath the sun like a flower. “Could we get him back? Or is he gone for good?”

Phoenix is me messaging Millie after every update LMFAO

“What if we burned the ax?” Coyote says. “Like, that’s what happens in The Evil Dead. They burn the book and--!” 

So true Javy!! Become Ash Williams!!

“Look,” Coyote starts, glaring at Phoenix. His palms are sweaty. “We all know that you’re aching real bad about Bob, okay? But you’re not the only one who lost someone today. We all lost people today. We all lost Bob today.”

I mean… he has a point. Sorry babe. :(

“I need you guys to move the rock and lock me in there with him,” you tell them. Your fingers are numb. “And don’t let us out until it’s over.” 

I’m going to throw up I’m so tense

It’s been a cruel, cruel summer.

She said it!! She said the thing!!

“Birdie…” 

No. Stop right now.

“Birdie--what…what’s going on? Why am I tied up?” 

No more pretending to be him you stupid mf I will literally suplex you

“Please, I know this summer hasn’t been stellar, but don’t do this! Birdie, please!” 

I did laugh at this though LMAO

“You fucking whore!” He screams. “God--look what you’ve--you fucking bitch! You’re killing him! You’re killing him!” 

I would literally start sobbing I’m not going to lie

“Do you think I can’t find you again? I’ve been watching you for three summers…I saw what you did with him in the woods. I saw what you did with Jakey-boy in your cabin, you whore. I see everything you do. I’m always here. I live in your nightmares!” 

😦

“You’re leaving your friends again,” he whispers softly to you. “The ones you abandoned before…they’ve been calling out your name. They’ve been waiting for you. They want you to come to them. They’re all alone. And they’re so scared, dolly…they’re so scared without you there.” 

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

“Hold on,” you whisper to Bradley’s body. “Just hold on, alright?” 

I CRY!!!!!

So like… Jake’s dead, right? No one’s gone back for him and he’s surely bled out by now🥲

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍--𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟔.𝟗𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

Panting, you stand over his body. He’s alive--his chest is rising and falling, his lashes are fluttering, and his fingers are twitching. Already there’s a violet bruise beginning to blossom in the middle of his forehead, one that will rise and ache. But for now, as you try to catch your breath and stop the ringing in your ears, he’s out cold. 

And for one fleeting moment, as everything around you becomes muffled from the blood cottoning your ears, you’re overcome with envy. Envy that he is lying down, with his eyes closed, and his body at rest. Envy that he can just be. 

What you wouldn’t give to just lie down and be.

His lashes flutter again--Bradley’s lashes. He doesn’t wake, doesn’t really stir. He looks, almost, peaceful. But this thing lying before you, the one wearing the skin of the man that loves you like a sacrilegious coat, does not deserve peace. Bradley does. Wherever he is, if he is alive, if he is dead, if he is asleep, if he is awake…Bradley deserves peace.  

The envy fades just as suddenly as it appears--replaced with an immeasurable, gut-wrenching rage. One that dominates the ache in your muscles and the tired in your bones and the heaviness of your eyelids and the thumping inside of your chest. It burns your fingertips--singes the ends of your hair and makes all the blood come rushing to your face. 

“Fuck you,” you whisper to all this flesh and bone. Your voice does not sound like it’s coming from your mouth--it sounds like it’s coming from the mouth of a woman disturbed, pushed to the brink, close to the edge, enervated, frantic. And with a resounding and overwhelming heave, you realize that all of this is true. “I got you.”

Of course, you’re not talking to Bradley when you say this. You’re only looking at him.

He does not respond. 

Reaching into your pocket, your grip still firm on the shotgun, you finger the casings you have left. Four. You have four bullets left. And for the first time today--for the first time in a few days, really--you feel lucky. Lucky like you’ve just plucked a four-leafed clover beneath a double-rainbow beside a heads-up penny.

Okay, you think. I have to move. 

Coyote is standing at the bus doors, eyes narrowed on the crease as if Bradley is somehow going to slip in when he’s not looking. 

It’s been almost thirty minutes since the two of you left the bus barn and you haven’t come back. Bradley hasn’t come back either, which he’s sure must mean something good. But everyone heard it--the gunshot. It’s been very quiet since then.

His fingers are beginning to tremble as he grips the butcher knife. He keeps repeating it in his head, chewing over it like a mantra: c’mon, Gale. C’mon, Gale. C’mon, Gale. 

Phoenix is huddled up with all the campers at the back of the bus, her eyes wide and her mouth closed tight. She cannot rid herself of this horrified expression--and she hasn’t been able to stop crying since Bob died in her arms. 

Time keeps flitting forward--children keep whispering, Coyote keeps careful watch over the entrance, Bob grows cold at the front of the bus beneath a pile of donated jackets, palms grow sweaty on the grips of knives--and she can do nothing to stop it. The world just keeps moving and she’s staying right where she is; on this bus.

You’re not back yet. And with every aching moment that marches on, she grows more accustomed to the thought of you lying dead in the woods. It is not a comfortability with which she settles into this--but merely a placid acceptance. Something she cannot change. Something she cannot fix. Another one of her friends dead and gone. 

She’s just here on this bus. 

“Anything?” Phoenix asks--her voice is thin and muffled from all the children crowding her, each one elbowing another for a spot beside her and away from the windows. “At all?”

Coyote doesn’t look away from the bus doors. 

“Nothing,” he whispers. 

It’s quiet. A few of the campers are whimpering--Phoenix doesn’t have it in her to comfort them right now. Not when she can’t stop crying herself. Not when this terrible numbness is crawling up her legs like leeches in warm, waist-deep water. 

“Is Miss Nightingale going to come back?” A quiet voice pipes up from the back. Phoenix can’t tell who’s talking--doesn’t even turn her head to attempt to find out. “Or did Mister Rooster do something…do something real bad?” 

“She’ll come back,” Coyote answers, his tone even and serious. He holds onto the handle of his knife harder. C’mon, Gale. “She always does, right?” 

“So far,” Phoenix whispers.

She thinks of you, splayed out on the dirt, not quite fast enough to outrun Bradley. Dying just within the reach of his fingertips, your hair caught in his fists when he lunges forward, your foot slipping on a rock and giving Bradley the opportunity to come forward and take you. One minuscule mistake, one lapse in your stride, one wrong placement of your foot on the earth and you’re gone. Just like that. Just like Bob. 

“C’mon,” Coyote whispers underneath his breath. He’s a few moments away from clasping his hands together and praying out loud--would even drop to his knees right now to see you again. “C’mon, Gale. C’mon, now. Get on back here, girl. C’mon.”

“Should we go looking for her?” Another camper asks. 

“Mister Rooster would get us!” Another returns. 

Coyote can hear it now--the way in which this will all become folklore. Another story to be told around a fire, one inexperienced mouth to another, hands sticky with s’mores as they gesture. Chocolate thick on their tongue when they utter the words he got four of the counselors and the groundskeeper. 

For the first time since you left, he peels his gaze from the door to look at all the wide-eyes staring back at him. Everyone is waiting for him to do something, save everyone. 

“It’s alright,” Coyote says to them. His voice is quivering. “She’s gonna come back.”

He wonders if they’ll remember him saying that. He wonders if they’ll remember anything he said or did. He wonders if they’ll remember the way his voice trembled. 

The younger ones will have faint memories of this, like fingerprints pressed in drying clay--not fully molded, only an impression. The older ones will remember this all, yes, but it will become muddled and fragmented as the years roll forward. They will imagine more blood and less time. They will imagine phantom cuts and bruises and that it was night instead of day. Little details like this--like your hair color and what shoes they were wearing--will change constantly.

But certain parts will be true: they will always remember Nurse Nightingale pointing a gun at Mister Rooster, covered in blood and screaming for him to get away from the bus, from them. They will always remember what Miss Phoenix sounded like when Mister Bob died right there in front of everyone, his body pale and bloody and her wails deafening. They will remember being crowded in the back of the bus, waiting for the other shoe to drop, shoulder-to-shoulder. They will remember the frenzy of lanterns and flashlights as they scrambled from their cabins into the mess hall because there was an emergency. They will always remember Mister Coyote standing at the front of the bus and waiting for you to come back. 

“Are you sure she’s coming back?” One of the children asks Coyote. Just a small little thing, barely tall enough to see over the seat. One of Rooster’s, he’s sure. Two little brown eyes peering into Coyote’s. “Or did she leave--did she leave us?”

“She wouldn’t leave us,” Coyote says instantly. 

He swallows hard, looks back at the doors. You’re still not here. 

“Maybe she ran,” one of the older campers offers, shaking his head as his eyes fill with tears. “Maybe she--maybe she got away!”

“No,” Coyote insists, eyes screwed shut. “She wouldn’t leave us.”

“I hope not,” Phoenix whispers. But she knows, just as well as anyone else, that if you’ve left them behind it is because you are not alive anymore. “I really, really hope not.” 

A gunshot suddenly ripples across camp--so loud that it startles Coyote. 

“Oh, my God,” a camper shrieks. “She shot Mister Rooster!” 

“He probably got the gun!” Another says. 

“Hush,” Phoenix urges. She swallows hard. “Be quiet now.”

And then another gunshot rings out--vibrates the gravel and bounces off the loudspeaker that is still playing a jumbled Kate Bush tape. 

“Fuck,” Coyote whispers, his heart beginning to hammer. “Shit--what does that mean?” 

The third gunshot blasts through the air before anyone can answer. 

“Wait a minute,” Timmy Creighton suddenly says from the very back of the bus. “Wait a minute--that was--wait, that was three gunshots!”

“Miss Nightingale shot Mister Rooster three times!”

“No,” Timmy says, shaking his head. “That means help! Three times--S. O. S.. S.O.S!”

Coyote turns to him, eyebrow perched, hope springing to life in his chest like wildflowers after a rainstorm. 

“How do you know that?” Phoenix asks, brows furrowed. 

“I’m a boy scout,” he answers incredulously. Like, duh. Of course. That’s how. 

“S.O.S.?” Coyote asks. “So, that could be Gale--!” 

“--Or it could be him,” Phoenix interrupts, brows furrowed. “We don’t know.” 

Coyote stares at her. 

“But it could be her.” 

Phoenix swallows hard. 

“We don’t know that it’s her,” she says, shaking her head. 

“We don’t know that it’s not,” Coyote says back. 

They stare at each other for a moment. 

“I’m not leaving the bus,” she says softly. She gestures to the children. “None of us are.” 

Coyote’s brow furrows. He adjusts his grip on the knife, holds it tighter. 

“But Gale is out there,” he says. 

“So is he,” Phoenix returns softly. “And he’s already picked off five of us.”

Now Coyote looks at the ground. Bob’s body is only a few feet away from him. And Jake--God, he can’t even think about Jake right now. He won’t let himself think about him. If he thinks about his best friend dead, bloody, axed--he might just crumble. He might just fold. 

But you. You’re someone he can help. You’re someone that just shot three times. S.O.S.. And what if he were the one that shot three times? You would come running with open arms and wide eyes. He knows it. He does. He can feel it in his soul.

“You stay,” Coyote finally says, glancing back up at Phoenix and the campers. “I’ll go.”

“But Mister Coyote, what if he gets you?” Timmy asks. 

“Yeah,” another camper agrees, nodding earnestly with their brows drawn together. “Then who’s gonna save us?”

Coyote swallows hard, heart thumping. He shrugs, feigning a cool attitude.

“Couldn’t if he tried,” he says. He limply points to his bulging biceps and gives everyone the only smile he can muster--which is a very weak one. “Look at these guns, huh? Who’d wanna tussle with me?”

No one responds. 

“Be careful,” Phoenix says quietly. She won’t allow the fear she’s feeling to spill over and into the air around her--not around the children. “Don’t…don’t die.”

“I won’t,” Coyote says. 

And he means it.

Coyote, simply put, is more frightened than he’s ever been as he begins to tread through the woods. He’s walking as carefully as he can, trying not to snap twigs or kick stones. He’s holding the knife and his breath, glancing out the corner of his eye at every sound that isn’t Kate Bush. 

The sun is high in the sky--he’d guess it’s not even noon yet. The heat pours down over him, holding him in a flannel blanket as he treks carefully. His grip on the knife is harsh--he knows for certain that it’s not going anywhere.

“Gale?” He whispers--he knows you won’t be able to hear him with his voice this low, but he’s too afraid to speak any louder in case Phoenix was right. “Gale?”

You don’t respond. His heart is pounding his chest, his blood is rushing through his ears.

He’s expecting, partly, Bradley to suddenly jump out at him. He must be ducked behind a tree, his ears perked, waiting for the precise moment to collapse Coyote with brute strength. And if he goes down, if Bradley gets the upper hand, Coyote knows that it will end in his own bloodshed. 

The thought makes him dizzy. 

“Gale,” he calls again, a little louder. 

Again, though--nothing. Just the sound of flittering mosquitos and bumbling bees. 

And it’s a few more paces, a few more steps, when he suddenly feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end like something is watching him. Like someone is watching him. 

Quickly, his head is on a swivel. And at first, he doesn’t see you. Covered in blood and mud and barefoot, you almost fit in right up against the oak trees and the leaves. But there you are, yards away from him, holding the gun and the ax as you stare at Bradley’s collapsed body on the ground. 

“Gale?” Coyote asks wearily, eyebrows raised. 

At once, you find his eyes. Your face is calm and flat, your hair matted and your clothes thoroughly dyed with blood. But there is a ring of your flesh on your throat that is on total display right now, all flesh and no blood--and he knows it’s from where Bradley tried to strangle you. Kill you. 

“Javy,” you whisper--your voice is ragged and raw. 

He wonders, momentarily, if it will sound like that forever now that you’ve been choked within an inch of your life. 

Neither of you move for a moment as Coyote takes in the scene. There is too much sunlight for such a nasty sight. Too much gore and blood and bugs for the sun to be shining down on you the way it is right now.

“He’s not…dead…is he?”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head. “Just out cold. For now.” 

Coyote nods. 

“Any of that blood yours?” Coyote asks, gesturing to you with the knife. 

Swallowing, you begin to shake your head--but then you remember. Your shoulder. 

“Some,” you whisper to him, sniffling. “Not a lot.”

Coyote takes a deep breath. 

“Whose is it?” 

He’s terrified for you to answer him--but he needs to know.

Your bottom lip wobbles suddenly. You shift all your weight to your left hip and hold the ax closer to you, glancing down at Bradley. Still out. Then you take a deep breath. 

“Jake’s,” you answer. “It’s his.” 

Coyote’s eyes fall to the ground. You can see it written across his face--the grief, the shock. His brows knit and his lips turn down. And then he takes a deep breath. 

“Yeah, I figured as much,” he says. “And Bradley…?”

“It’s not…it’s not him,” you whisper. Sucking in a deep breath, you suddenly choke. You’re not sure what else to say, how else to explain it. “Well, it’s him, but it isn’t. He isn’t--it’s…it’s the maniac.”

You’re worried, for the first time today, that someone will accuse you of losing your everloving mind. That Coyote will scoff at you and try to get far, far away from you and your insanity. 

But when you look at him, he’s just looking back at you in total earnest. 

“And you know that…how?” 

Shaking your head, eyes fluttering closed, you sigh. 

“He told me,” you whisper. Your voice is still so hoarse--and your breaths are ragged. “When he…after he hurt Jake. He told me everything.” 

“The maniac did?” Coyote asks. His fingers are tingling. 

If anyone else were to say this to him, anyone in the world, he’d disbelieve them. But it’s you--and he knows, deep in his heart, that you have been closer to death and gore here than anyone else. And he believes you as firmly as his feet are planted on the earth. 

“Yes,” you answer. “Please believe me. Please, I know how it sounds--!” 

“--I believe you,” Coyote answers, brows furrowed. He looks down at Bradley’s body again. “So…what do we do now?” 

You follow his gaze. The bruise on Bradley’s head is growing into a deep, deep purple now. Purple like the irises that have suddenly sprouted up everywhere. 

“Tie him down,” you whisper. “Don’t let him out again.”

Coyote nods. 

“I can drag ‘im if you can carry the weapons,” Coyote offers. He knows your strength must be waning, knows that you must be fading fast and hard at this point. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you whisper, relieved. 

♀

Phoenix looks between the two of you, tired and scared and in mourning, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips twisted. 

“So…he’s possessed?” She asks. 

You nod, can’t even muster the strength to utter yes. 

“I know it sounds crazy,” Coyote starts, sucking in a breath. 

“Yeah, it does,” Phoenix agrees. She looks at you. “I want you to tell me what you told him that’s made him so gung-ho on this possession idea. Alright?” 

“She didn’t have to tell me much,” Coyote says, hands on his hips. 

He glances at the nurse’s cabin, where Bradley is tied down to the bed. He still isn’t awake yet--you got him good. A pride swells in Coyote when he thinks about it; you slamming the butt of the shotgun down on Bradley’s head, preserving his life but halting his maliciousness. 

“I don’t get it,” Phoenix says. She sighs in exasperation, pinches the bridge of her nose. “What about…this says possession instead of just Bradley lost his fucking mind?” 

“I mean--look around us, Nix. Does this seem like a normal summer to you? Has Bradley ever so much as killed a fucking bug before this summer? Or the one before? Or the one before that?” Coyote asks, throwing his hands up in the air. Phoenix blinks at him. “The answer is a big, fat no. He hasn’t. He hasn’t done anything except crop his own shirts and-and make goo-goo eyes at Gale. Right? Something isn’t right here.” 

“But why does that mean he’s possessed by the fucking maniac?” Phoenix asks, groaning. “Maybe he…maybe he hid the crazy until this summer.” 

“We’re his best friends,” Coyote says, scoffing. “We would see it before.” 

Phoenix’s lip twitches. 

“Bradley isn’t my best friend,” Phoenix whispers. “Bob was.”

No one speaks for a moment. You take a deep breath--nearly wobbling on your feet.

“He was cut with the ax thirty years to the day of the original murders,” you point out. You think of the newspaper from earlier. July 19th--that was the publication date. But the murders had to have happened before then. “And he told me. Alright? He told me everything.”

“Well, crazy people like to talk,” Phoenix says. Her fingers are tingling. “Why are we believing him? He killed Bob!” 

“We know that,” Coyote snaps. He throws his arms in the air, eyes wide. “He fucking killed Jake, too! And Reuben and Mickey. Fucking--he killed Paul, Phoenix! We know that!” 

Sensing thats things are going to become too heated between Phoenix and Coyote, as her cheeks redden and his eyes grow wider, you put her hand up. 

“Let’s not lose our heads,” you say, voice soft and even but still gravely. “Listen, all I know is that before this summer, Bradley never so much as…he wouldn’t ever hurt anyone.” 

“You mean you?” Phoenix asks--her tone is pointed and frustrated, but you’re not angry with her. 

She softens when you nod, raise your blood-rimmed eyes to hers. 

“Yes,” you whisper. “He would never hurt me.” 

She shifts all her weight to her other hip, sighing deeply. Coyote is still looking at her, arms crossed, waiting for a fight. But then she looks up at you, eyes deep and sorrowful. 

“Tell me what he told you,” she whispers, really meaning it. 

Coyote’s shoulders fall--thank God. Thank fucking God. 

So, you tell her everything. Every bit, every detail, every morsel. Jake’s body on top of yours. Bradley’s quiet and calculated plan. The mask that slipped. The chase through the woods. The blood that was shed. 

And by the end of it, the three of you are standing out in the courtyard, your gazes listless and your guts empty and aching. Phoenix’s brows are blanched and her heart is racing and she can’t believe this is happening to her. Not here, in Maine of all places, at camp at all places. How is this happening to her? To all of you? 

“So, what do we do now?” Coyote asks, voice soft. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, eyes screwed shut. 

“I mean, you guys tied him to the exam table pretty good, right? Will it hold him?” Phoenix asks, glancing up at the two of you. She knows, as soon as she sees both of your faces, that the answer is a resounding no. “Okay…so, what? What do we do?”

“We have to…” Coyote starts. He stops, sighs, shakes his head. “I can’t even say it.” 

“What?” Phoenix asks. 

You clear your throat and swat a mosquito away from your face.

“We aren’t killing him,” you say to Coyote, sad and quiet. There is no anger in your bones when you say it--he’s doing what he can. All of you are. No one knows what to do and you don’t expect anything any of you says to be right or wrong. “We can’t…I can’t do that.” 

Phoenix shakes her head. 

“I mean, he killed everyone…” she whispers. “Wouldn’t it be…I don’t know, just? If we did it.” 

“No,” you answer. Your fingers are trembling--you clasp your hands together and sniffle. “No one else dies.” 

“But--!” 

You look at Phoenix right in the eyes, squinting slightly as the blood clumping your lashes flakes off. Again, you’re not angry. You understand her grief. You understand her desire for justice. You understand where she’s coming from. 

“Please don’t make me kill anyone,” you whisper to her. “I can’t…I can’t do it.” 

All three of you know that you would be the one to do it, because as strong as Coyote is and as vengeful as Phoenix is, you’re the only one that can stomach death. Death and its scent and its touch and its taste. Only you. 

“So, we don’t kill him,” Coyote says. “That leaves us with…what options?” 

“If he’s possessed…” Phoenix starts, scratching her head and wilting beneath the sun like a flower. “Could we get him back? Or is he gone for good?”

The thought of Bradley being gone forever makes a deep, endless pit open up in your belly. You feel like it will swallow you whole--so you bat it away, shake your head. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “He said he was…gone.” 

Coyote leans forward. 

“But in…like, in The Exorcist, they say the demon fights psychologically. Maybe that’s--maybe that’s what he’s doing, right? Lying.” 

“Well, if this were The Exorcist, we’d be short a couple priests. All we have is Mable,” Phoenix says. “And I don’t think it’d be the same.”

“Oh, real nice, Nix,” Coyote says, shaking his head. “That’s a great attitude to have.”

The tension between them is beginning to grow warm--only a spark now, but you feel that it will soon be an ember glowing orange on this sunny, blue day. 

Staring at the ground, squinting, trying to remember what happens at the end of The Exorcist, you’re hardly breathing. 

“What happens?” You ask suddenly. “What happens, like, at the end of that movie?”

“The demon moves from one body to another,” Coyote answers, brows drawn together. “And then…the new host kills themselves.” 

It’s quiet for a moment between the three of you--quiet except for the jumbled Kate Bush tape still playing over the loudspeaker. The lot of you have almost entirely tuned it out by now. 

“No,” you whisper. It’s not an option. “What else can we do?” 

No one says anything for a long moment. 

“It was his blood, right?” Coyote asks. “Like, that’s what started the whole possession thing? He cut himself on the ax--well, he cut himself on the ax.” 

“Yes,” you answer. “That’s at least what he--what he told me.”

“What if we burned the ax?” Coyote says. “Like, that’s what happens in The Evil Dead. They burn the book and--!” 

“--Are we just going to keep suggesting things that happens in movies?” Phoenix asks. “Because this isn’t a movie, Javy. People are dead.”

“He knows that,” you say, heart squeezing. “Do you have any better ideas, Nix? Really.” 

She doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean, if blood starts it…blood’s gotta end it, right?” 

“Oh, the Chekov’s gun of it all,” Phoenix grumbles. 

But then her spine prickles--it’s what Bob would say. 

Blood. You think about it as you look down at your hands--they’re covered in the stuff. Vital to life, but so commonly on the outside of flesh. A skinned knee. A bump on the head. A knick while shaving. A papercut. 

“Virgin blood is strong--pure. Untainted. That’s what…that’s what happened last time, you see. Nurse Abbott was waiting until marriage. I picked ‘em off one-by-one until she was alone…”

“We could bleed him out,” Phoenix sighs, not serious. Her tone is sour, bitter. “That oughta show him.” 

“Look,” Coyote starts, glaring at Phoenix. His palms are sweaty. “We all know that you’re aching real bad about Bob, okay? But you’re not the only one who lost someone today. We all lost people today. We all lost Bob today.”

Phoenix, her brows furrowed and her lips twisted, begins to respond before you suddenly stand and interrupt them. 

“We used to use leeches,” you say, eyes wide. 

Phoenix and Coyote blink at you, their eyes heavy and their mouths flat and their brows furrowed. You can see plainly on their faces that they’re wondering if you’re losing it finally--if the exhaustion is finally settling in. 

“What?” Phoenix asks. 

“We used to use leeches--like, whenever someone had a sickness or something, medical doctors would use leeches.” 

Coyote blinks at you. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your fingers are tingling as you wring them together, clearing your throat. There is a film of phlegm there that is making your voice hoarse still. 

“Bloodletting,” you tell them. “It--I mean, it’s been around forever. We’re talking, like, 470 B.C. kinda forever, right? Of course, like, at first everyone had a really simple view of what it did and diseases and everything. But then--God, was it like two or three years ago? Some coat from Harvard attached a leech to a tike’s ear after it’d been bitten off by a dog. It was big news. And, I mean, it’s kind of the same idea as replacement therapy.” 

“Like dialysis?” Coyote asks. “My grandpa does that.”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Just--just like that.”

“Okay,” Phoenix says, trying to digest your ramblings. “And what does that have to do with us?” 

Slowly, you sink back down. They watch you carefully. 

“If it starts with blood, it ends with blood,” you whisper. “We don’t have a lot of other options or ideas, do we?” 

“No,” Phoenix answers. “But where the fuck are we gonna get leeches?” 

“Yeah,” Coyote echoes, scratching the back of his head. 

Shaking your head, you breathe out shakily. 

“I can bleed him out,” you say. “I can do it.” 

With wide eyes, Phoenix sucks in a surprised breath. Her heart is hammering. 

“I was just messing,” she says, shaking her head. “Damn, I wasn’t serious!”

“I don’t think you should go near him,” Coyote says. He’s staring at the naked bit of your throat where your life was almost taken away from you. “I don’t think any of us should, really. It’s not safe. We’ll be dead meat if we do.”

“Look, if we don’t do something, we’re dead,” you say very seriously, looking into both their eyes. “Our friends are already dead. It���s just--it’s just us now, okay? No one is coming to help. Penny and Mav--shit, they’re still a while away from the next supply run. We’ve gotta do something. We can’t just keep running. We can’t just--we can’t just keep sitting here.” 

Phoenix’s tongue is totally dry. She’s watching you very carefully right now--you seem somber and sober. You seem, she realizes, more stable than you have since this all started. A certain calm has come over you, one that wraps you up in its arms and keeps your ragged voice even. 

“We can take shifts,” Coyote offers, his voice soft. “You can teach us how to shoot.” 

You shake your head. 

“No,” you whisper. “You two--you’ve gotta keep those campers alive, alright? That’s your job.” 

“What even is it that you want to do, huh?” Coyote asks. He settles his hands on his hips. “Give us the download.” 

“I’m gonna bleed him out,” you whisper. It all sounds so much crazier out loud--it feels like you’re talking to them from behind a thick fog, one that smells sweet and dampens your hair. “And then I’m gonna--fuck, I’m gonna stitch him up. Give him blood from the blood drive.” 

“Shit,” Coyote hisses. “We don’t know if that’ll work.” 

“No,” Phoenix agrees. “We don’t. And what if he doesn’t wake up? What if the blood isn’t enough?” 

Spine tingling, you chew on your lower lip. The blood you’re tasting isn’t your own. 

“Timmy Creighton,” you whisper. 

“What?” Phoenix asks. “The kid who’s allergic to nuts?” 

“That’s our savior?” Coyote follows. “We’re fucked. The kid tried to eat a Snickers bar last week!”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head. “Epi--it’s adrenaline. It’s what we use at the hospital when we resuscitate.” 

Phoenix furrows her brows. 

“So, it can help like…” 

“Bring him back,” you say. Your stomach turns, but you persist. “If I lose him, I can bring him back.” 

Coyote shifts uncomfortably, the thought of losing another friend today boggling his mind. His temple pulses. 

“So, what do we do?” He asks. “How can we help?” 

Taking a deep, deep breath, you glance at the nurse’s cabin. You know that he’s in there--and he’ll be waking up soon. 

“I need you guys to move the rock and lock me in there with him,” you tell them. Your fingers are numb. “And don’t let us out until it’s over.” 

“Nightingale,” Phoenix says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to do that.” 

“Yeah,” Coyote agrees. “Me neither.” 

“What choice do we have?” You say quietly. “We have to do something. We have to do something.”

Coyote sighs, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. If he loses you, too--he doesn't know what he’s going to do. He’s so tired, he’s so scared and the thought of you locked in the room with Bradley is turning his stomach sour. 

“Why can’t we do it together?” Phoenix asks. “I mean, really!” 

“You would just get in the way,” you whisper solemnly. “I can do this.” 

“But can you?” Coyote asks, his tone edged but not malicious. He shrugs at you, mouth ajar. “He almost got you, Gale. He almost got you.” 

“But he didn’t,” you whisper, still feeling Bradley’s fingers wrapped around your throat. 

“Because of him,” Phoenix defends. “You shouldn’t do this alone.”

“I have to,” you whisper, shaking your head. Your eyes are wet. “You two…you have to keep the kids safe. Nothing can happen to them, alright?” 

His words ring in your ears.

“And when I’ve finished the kiddos off, I’ll come back for you.”  

“And what if he gets you, huh?” Coyote asks, his tone biting your ears. “Fuck--I mean, Jesus, Gale. What about us?” 

“I’ll kill him if I have to,” you say, though your tongue burns when you say it. “He isn’t getting out--!” 

“--We can’t lose you, too,” Phoenix interrupts. Sincerity drips from her tongue. “Please.” 

Turning away from them, you shut your eyes for a moment. In all the hustle, in all the grief, you completely forgot that the Kate Bush tape is still playing over the loudspeaker. It’s loud enough for you to hear over the cicadas. 

Like the sun coming out

I just know that something good is gonna happen

“Lock me in,” you whisper. You can’t look at their grief-stricken faces. Two tears fall from your cheeks. “Don’t let me out.” 

“Gale…” Coyote whispers. 

Glancing around camp, desolate and quiet, your heart squeezes. Only a few days ago, you were warding off Bradley and Coyote as you took Jake’s blood. Only a few days ago, you’re biggest concern was who you were going to end up with at the end of August. Only a few days ago, Bob and Phoenix were leading a game of Red Rover. Fanboy and Payback hosted finger football at their lunch table. Laughter echoed off the gravel. The lake lapped at the rocky shore. The trees were tall and sweet as they scraped the sky. You were bandaging scraped elbows and pulling out splinters. You were running your fingers through Jake’s hair, the sun warm on your cheeks, the crickets singing you a song. You were singing Joni Mitchell around a fire. You were smoking marijuana with your friends and sinking into the soft grass. You were reading Carrie by lamp-light. Lightning bugs used to land on your shins. Cicadas and owls used to sing you to sleep. Jake used to take you by the hand and dance with you in front of everyone, even if you were too shy, even if you were too embarrassed. Bradley said he loved you. So did Jake. 

But it’s all over now. 

It’s been a cruel, cruel summer. 

“Do it,” you whisper softly. “It ends now. It has to end now.”

“You’re gonna kill him?” Phoenix whispers. 

Nodding, your tongue quivers in your mouth. 

“It doesn’t have to be big and scary,” you mutter. “It doesn’t have to be violent.”

“Death is always violent,” Coyote says, thinking of Jake and Reuben and Mickey and Paul. “There’s nothing peaceful about it.” 

But they’re wrong. You know that they’re wrong. You’ve seen it--you’ve seen it so close that you’ve tasted it. It can be peaceful. It can be as easy as falling asleep. It can be as easy as exhaling. It can be as easy as coughing. You’ll make it easy for Bradley. 

“I’ll make it peaceful,” you whisper. 

It’s more of a promise to Bradley wherever he is. You’ll be gentle. 

“Gale,” Coyote says, shaking his head. “I just…” 

“She has to do it,” Phoenix says now, her tone soft. She looks you in the eyes, hers rimmed with red and tearful. “Bring him back, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. “I will.”

♀

He isn’t awake yet. 

From where you’re standing beside him, your body numb and your eyes stuck on his placid face, you could almost mistake him for sleeping. Eyes fluttered shut, brows unknit, lips flat, body still. Except for the blood splattering his clothing and skin and the welt on his head, maybe anyone could mistake him for sleeping. 

Exhaling, you look over at everything laid out beside you. Swiss army knife. Gauze. Suture kit. Adrenaline injections. Bags of blood--your blood--on ice. Universal donor. Morphine tablets. Everything you need to drain him of this evil and then bring him back. 

It’s sweltering in here--that’s why you usually always keep the door open. But now you’re locked in, the door barricaded and the windows reinforced. The heat seeps in like a wave. 

This will be better if he doesn’t wake up. 

And with that thought, you reach for the latex gloves, slowly slipping your hands into them. No movement from Bradley. It’s not until you shakily hold the Swiss army knife that his brows come together. 

A low groan falls from his lips as you bring the blade out. 

“Birdie…” 

Your belly turns itself inside out. 

When you don’t answer, too petrified to move, too scared to say anything, Bradley’s eyes open. And your chest feels empty when you see those eyes: no flecks of gold in his irises. Just a deeper, darker brown. Void of anything except rage. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, sounding remarkably like Bradley. He looks down, realizes he’s tied to the examination table, then looks back up at you with a pitiful expression of confusion eating his features. “Birdie--what…what’s going on? Why am I tied up?” 

“Stop calling me that,” you whisper to him, shaking your head. 

He brings how brows together, mouth ajar, then sees that you’re holding a knife. And he jerks away--a real show of wide eyes and gasps. 

“What--what are you gonna do with that?” 

“Drop the act,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You’re cornered.” 

“Birdie, please don’t do this!” He says, beginning to wail. The heat is turning his cheeks bright red. “Please, I know this summer hasn’t been stellar, but don’t do this! Birdie, please!” 

“Stop calling me that,” you demand again, your voice louder. You look deep, deep into his eyes and keep your gaze there besides the chill that climbs your spine. “You’re not him.” 

He’s about to argue--about to fight you on it--when it dawns on him that you aren’t scared right now. No, no. He can tell. He can feel it. There is not even an ounce of fear in your being right now--just rage. Blinding, serious rage. 

“Fine,” he says, tone calmer than before. He smiles softly. “What’re you gonna do, dolly? What’s the plan? What’re you gonna do with that?” 

 WIth a firm grip on the red handle of the knife, you breathe deeply. 

“I’m going to cut your radial artery,” you say softly, just like you would to a patient. “It’s in your wrist. I’m gonna bleed you out…let you die. And then I’m going to bring Bradley back.”

He laughs--a big and booming thing. 

“Oh, is that so?” He says tauntingly. “Well, you’ve got it all figured out, then. As if you would be able to do it, dolly. You don’t have the guts.” 

“I do,” you whisper. “I’ve got the guts.” 

“You love him,” he whispers. “You’re weak like that.” 

Swallowing hard, you shake your head. 

“I’m bringing him back,” you say. 

“He’s gone,” he argues, brows knit. He tugs on the restraints--they’re tight. Too tight to get out of right away. “And he’d need a blood transfusion.” 

You point to the few bags of blood on the table, still cold from the ice. 

“I have it,” you whisper. “I’m a universal donor.” 

“But not a virgin,” he answers, smiling still. 

You lean forward, eyes pouring into his. 

“I was when I donated,” you tell him. 

And before he can respond, before he can do anything at all, you bring the blade down on his wrist. It’s sharp--sharp like a scalpel in the operating room. He gasps, warm blood suddenly flooding the bed, but doesn’t have time to respond before you cut the other wrist. 

Writhing, panicking, he looks at you. 

“You fucking whore!” He screams. “God--look what you’ve--you fucking bitch! You’re killing him! You’re killing him!” 

“I’m killing you!” You grunt.

Slamming the knife back down on the tray, you step back and watch for a moment. There is hot, wet blood on your hands again. Vaguely, distantly, you wonder if you’re going to have to scrape all this blood off. It clings to you like a second skin. 

The hair on the back of your neck prickles as Bradley desperately pulls at the retraits, blood dripping from his body in a steady river of red. 

“You fucking bitch,” he seethes. “Do you think I can’t find you again? I’ve been watching you for three summers…I saw what you did with him in the woods. I saw what you did with Jakey-boy in your cabin, you whore. I see everything you do. I’m always here. I live in your nightmares!” 

Saying nothing, steeling yourself against his words, you continue watching. You’re counting to two minutes. 

“Fear is what keeps me alive, dolly,” he grunts, struggling still. “And I will be alive until the world sinks into Hell. I’ll be here, waiting. Watching. Ready to crawl under the skin of another lovesick orphan.”

Shaking your head, you just keep watching. It’s strange watching Bradley bleed out--but it’s not him. It’s not him. It’s Damien. You have to repeat it to yourself over and over again. It’s Damien. It’s Damien. 

And then, suddenly and completely, he goes entirely still. He’s just looking at you as blood covers the exam table and puts metal beneath your nose. He frowns, his eyebrows coming together. His face is beginning to grow pasty. 

“You’re leaving your friends again,” he whispers softly to you. “The ones you abandoned before…they’ve been calling out your name. They’ve been waiting for you. They want you to come to them. They’re all alone. And they’re so scared, dolly…they’re so scared without you there.” 

Lip twitching, you stay completely still. 

“Jake needs you,” he whispers. “And he’s the one you chose all along, right? It’s always been him. Why even bring Bradley back if it’s not him that you love?” 

Saliva gathers beneath your tongue. It’s approaching--you know it is. Can’t be long now. 

“I can’t die,” he whispers. His voice is weak. His eyes are beginning to shut. “You can’t…you can’t…” 

And then his head lulls to the side and he is dead. 

It isn’t Bradley, but a sob rips from your throat anyway. He lies completely still, blood still flowing from his wrists. And without another moment to waste, you jump into action. 

Packing his wrists with gauze with one panicked hand, you reach to feel his jugular with the other. It’s weak--probably just residual blood flow. 

He’s gone. The evil is gone. 

“Hold on,” you whisper to Bradley’s body. “Just hold on, alright?” 

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓��: OMG WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT......

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:

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[grimst4rs]

lily evans headcanons

loves with her whole heart the colors green and brown

her favorite season is spring because everything is in a continuous blooming

gets flustered very easily and all of her friends find that very entertaining

okay so you know how her name is lily j. evans? her middle name is jolene becaUSE "with flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green" in this song dolly parton literally describes lily omg

speaking of which the marauders would CONTINUOUSLY sing this song to her for the sole reason of pissing her off

only puts her hair up during the summer because she thinks she looks better with her hair down (she does)

everyone loves talking to her because she's so nice to everyone. she's like an upperclassman talking to an underclassman but she's not being a big bitch to everyone

was in love with jane asher and cut her hair like hers in about third year

when she's embarrassed or flustered or anything of that sort, her ears redden first

the therapist friend / person

an excellent secret keeper, much like peter, that's why everyone told them their secrets

secret besties with regulus. they were actually together for some time too (headcanon courtesy to @enbysiriusblack )

when she's nervous, she plays with her hair. twirling it around her finger etc.

slightly allergic to pineapple. gets a bit of a rash

loves avocado with her whole heart

has a few freckles on her face (especially on her nose), she has more on her body though

very loving <3

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Slime

Gif credit @bodybebangin.

Hope you all enjoy.

Happy reading dollies.

Taglist @ackles-nhl. @cbouvier23.

Lee had the girls for the day while you went out to grab last minute birthday gifts for your youngest, Daisy. She wanted unicorns and rainbows so that's what she got while Lee distracted her.

"What the fuck is slime"? Lee looked at the package that Kayce brought for the girls to pass time.

"I dont know, Tate loves it. Monica plays with it as well". Kayce shrugged his shoulders at his brother with a smirk.

"Okay. Girls, do you want to play with something called slime or go play with the horses"?

"Slime"! Daisy and Harley screamed and squealed at their father. Who became terrified.

"Okay. Here". Lee put the slime on the table and backed away. This wasnt the first time he had been alone with the kids but it was the first time since Daisy's attitude had became let's say evil. She was like a mini Rip Wheeler when she was mad.

"Daddy look". Daisy giggled, she was covered in slime. Her face, clothes, the table, her hair and her sister were covered.

"Shit". Lee mumbled. He wasnt supposed to let them get dirty, the party was in a few hours. Now he was screwed.

"Kayce, what do I do? They're covered". Lee turned to ask his youngest brother but Kayce was nowhere in sight. "Fucker". Lee sighed.

Lee sat down beside his daughters in their little chair and started to take the slime off. It came off Daisys face easily. But her clothes and hair was a different story. Harley was the same but she was older and knew not to get it in her hair. So Lee sent her off to change before you got home.

"Lee, where do you want- woah what happened"? Rip came into ask a simple question but came in on a little girl trapped inside a snot bubble.

"Slime. Fucking Kayce". Lee growled, he had it on him now.

"You say fuck". Daisy pointed at Lee. We weren't supposed to swear around the girls. They were picking up everything as you see.

"Sorry. I'll put a dollar in the swear jar. How am I supposed to get this crap off of her? It's in her hair. Oh my god, Y/Ns going to kill me". Lee ran his slimy hands down his beard. Getting slime everywhere. "Dang it".

"Is it like gum? Peanut butter maybe. Ice"? Rip rambled off suggestions. "We may have to cute her hair".

"No! Y/N will cut my B A L L S off and hang them from the mantel. This is Daisy's special day and I ruined it. No, Kayce ruined it". Lee grumbled. He wasnt letting Kayce get away with this. 

"Calm down. We'll figure something out. Just take off what you can". Rip pulled out his cell phone and looked slime up and how to get it out of your hair.

"Hey, peanut butter is on here". Rip chuckled.

"Great. What else"? Lee rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Simply wash her hair and comb it out. Will do the trick". 

"Thank god. I thought I was a dead man". Lee said picking up his daughter and about to head for the door when you stood at the entrance to the girls room. A hand on your hip, biting your lip to hide the laugh you were keeping in.

"What happen"? You tried to talk without giggling.

"Kayce did it". Lee tattled.

"Okay. But why are you both covered in it as well"? You pointed to Lee and Rip. It was in their beards and on their shirt.

"We tried to get it off but it just seemed to multiple". Rip replied.

"Alright, I'll get Beth to take her and I'll take Lee. Rip, I'll get Lloyd to help you". You giggle.

"I'm fine thanks. I'll take Daisy to Beth". Lee handed Rip and they left.

"I'm sorry for ruining her day. I know you worked so hard on it". Lee apologized.

"It's okay. She looked like she had fun. You're adorable". You kissed Lee's slime covered lips.

"I'm covered in snot". Lee laughed. "Like a giant troll sneeze on me". This made you giggle.

"You still look handsome. Thank you for being their daddy". You pecked his lips again.

"Thank you for agreeing to marry me and this crazy family. Oh dont let me forget to get Kayce back. That sum bitch is going down. I'm going to fuck up his hair with slime. See how he likes it". Lee argued with an imaginary Kayce on his way to the bathroom. Man, were you lucky. 

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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@splatoonfan88

The results!

Dolly vs Hera=*Dolly stands over hera as she breaks Heras staff watching her die.* Hera:Bitch... DOLLY WIN M1 G0

Gim vs Rudra=*Both gods are wheezing and coughing as they're leaking blood from various wounds. Gim falls to his knees and holds his hand up in a salute before Rudra catches him and walks out of the arena with him* Rudra:Heh..I see how Paradox is your grandson he like you just don't go down without a last act. RUDRA WIN M1 G1

Into vs Aphrodite=*Aphrodite just barely dodges into throwing her bike at her only to get a hook into her neck as Into smiles.* Into:next time. Leave the fighting to the men you've suckered. *With a tug her head Flys off* INTO WIN M2 G1

Chutullu vs Nxyie=*Nxyie carves his chest and back open with her adimantine Scythe as peices of his body falls into the sea he simply mutters.* Chutullu:if..only...it..wasnt..you.. NXYIE WIN M3 G1

Persephone vs Pelia=*the two queens fall onto the arena which had been covered in magic flora and plants of hell and have a chat.* Pelia:..it's Pelia My lady. Persephone:my lady? I'm not my mother..call me Persephone. Pelia:of course Persephone...you're a lucky girl. Persephone:so are you.... Both:men like Derail/Hades are rare. *Both sleep and the winner isn't announced till hiemdall gets in the mess.* TIE BY DUO KNOCKOUT M4 G2

Artimes vs Emiko=*Artimes is fireing arrows yelling and screaming about how the Yamamotos shall forever be plagued by her forever with an egotistical face. Only to get blinded by Emiko using her mind powers to shoot arrows into her eyes then into her ears.* Emiko:*sighs* why does my family get the bitches? First my mothers and father with their families then my uncle with his ex then my sisters with those upper sixes and now me and Kaito with you and your uncle. *She pushes Artimes's arrows further into her head by pushing her head down with her boot.* EMIKO WIN M5 G2

Mars vs Athena:*After getting her eye her hand and her leg cut off by Athena Mars glared.* Athena:this is the price of treachery. Mars:*spits blood into her face* Athena:just like a carron. *Athena just barely dodges a sword swing and cuts Mars open but before Athena can hit her Mars Explodes in a massive fireball* *Heimdall sees her in the crater.* Mars:..Mother....auntie..I won..I WON! *she keeps laughing as her heart stops but she's being brought back by the doctor's crew.* Sunblood:you did good Mars. You did good. Oh and I'm not saving you from Venus and Saturn. MARS WIN M6 G2

Typhon vs Longinus:*Typhon is severely injured as he's covered in holes with the spear in his chest he's almost dead but looks at the roman warrior who's ironically laying on the ground in the position that Christ was crucified on the cross.* Typhon:to think you almost killed me. Longinus:*Hearing Christ declare he forgave him long ago and wishes they'd be blood brothers.*..im...happy...thank you...truly... TYPHON WIN M6 G3

Sektmet vs Jon:*after a long fight where both sides spilled blood and body parts. Jon is missing a leg a arm a eye and half his face with Sektmet missing her tail her eye her ears are torn apart with her legs mangled and both fighters being disenbowled with their guts spilling out.* Jon:...damn..I thought so...the universe needed another big joke...one final jest and who else then the world's most mundane useless blank man...i..*he is stopped by Sektmet slapping him she then Carves his full name into her arms and smiles as he dies both showing faces of pride and ADMIRATION as Jon passes on smiling with tears of joy falling from his eyes* Sektmet:you were incredible Jon Arbuckle! I shall never forget you! Please! Never change! SEKTMET WIN M6 G4

Okay so I have a few round ideas and their themes.

Alexis 'Dolly' Loveheart (Jamaerica I like to headcannon Dolly lives in a world like The Ace Attorney games and I'm sure that's how the game describes the area the games take place in.) VS Hera

The mortal mother with 20+ children and the 'Queen of Magic' (main Magic authority in my verse.) VS the wife of zues and queen of the gods. The mother who took any child in and got her reputation as a mother to all while being a baddass VS the queen who's well known for unjustly punishing the mortals taken advantage of by Zues and the children of the affairs. (Seriously Hera SMITE HIS ASS) ones a great mother ones pretty crap.

*after their intros.*

Hera:ugh...how unsightly..I actually pity your children they have to have a ugly marionette doll as a mother.

Dolly:*whos wearing her old workout uniform* (Purple yoga pants a pink shirt crop top and some workout sneakers her devine weapon is pretty much fingerless boxing gloves mixed with spiked brass knuckles.) *after winking to her husband who turns into a tomato* better to look like a doll then to throw your son off a mountain.

Hera:*readying her staff* curb your tounge!

Dolly:37 children and I don't recall you caring for any of them.

Hera:I have 2.

Dolly:oh wow just erase Hephaestus huh? Well you are bad at this. You seemingly play favorites with the gods. You join in mock Ares. You don't watch any other of the kids zues had now I know it sucks to be cheated on. I have 3 exs after all. But..last I check Zues is a shit father. And you..could of at least watch the kids. I mean you are the Goddess of family. And you ditched one son humiliate another I haven't even seen your daughter in YEARS and you've tried to kill every other damn child! And let's not forget one tiny detail.

Hera:*swings her staff* I will not take advice from you!

Dolly:*punches her in the face.* ZUES IS YOUR BROTHER!

(Round one.)