#instead of doing anything useful of course. it’s just this and the rings rotating in my head.

[oof-ow-my-bone]

twiddles my thumbs uhh umm.. started watching gravity falls ahah…

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you convince harvey to go in the maze with you; harvey has some trouble sleeping. warnings -> not nsfw: mention of shane's cliff scene | nsfw! mdni. p in v, oral sex (reader receives), reader and harvey share a drink before wc -> 5025

a/n: i swear this chapter just. wrote itself. i think i blacked out writing half of it but i hoped y'all enjoy!!!, if there is any chapter where i recommend you to listen to the song in the title, it's this one!!! pls <333

also i'd love to hear where you guys think this is going heh

ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9

paper rings masterlist

chapter eight: i can see you -> "but what would you do if i went to touch you now?"

Harvey wouldn’t necessarily say he was a terrible sleeper. 

Sure, he had his nights where the blankets wouldn’t feel quite right and the pillows refused to agree with him, but even then, he would typically fall asleep one way or another. Eight hours of undisturbed sleep was always his goal, and a couple of cups of coffee throughout the day would never fail to give him the push he needed. Although he used to be quite the night owl during his time at university — to the point where he had a regular rotation of energy drinks in his fridge — Harvey found he now preferred waking up early and having a slow start to his day.

That night, though, the clock struck an hour he hadn’t encountered in years.

3:43 A.M.

He knew it was going to hurt him throughout the next day, especially when he would inevitably have to open up the clinic and prepare for any patients. He knew it was unlike him, that logically, he should be reaching for his bottle of melatonin and taking a couple of pills to lull him to his dreams. He knew, of course, he knew, he was a doctor — he’d heard all of it throughout med school, how essential sleep was in everyone’s daily routine. 

But how could he?

How could he allow his worn, blurry eyes to close and sink into the exhaustion weighing down his body, when you were fast asleep beside him? 

It was wrong. Everything about the situation was completely and utterly wrong. 

First off, he was absolutely not supposed to be in his bed, watching you peacefully doze with the blankets half-covering you. He resisted his urge to scoop you up into his arms and pretend the scene was normal.

Secondly, your clothes were not on your body, but instead were scattered across the bedroom. Harvey could feel your bare back just barely grazing his arm with every breath you took. As he glanced to the floor on his side of the bed, he could vaguely make out the shape of your bra, blushing at the memory that tagged along with it.

Thirdly, he should be asleep — he should have been asleep hours ago. 

Yet, there he was, contemplating what choices had led him there in the first place.

A few hours earlier

“Harvey,” you said, crossing your arms and giving your best friend a deathly stare, “stop being such a baby.”

“Y/N, you of all people know I have never been fond of Spirit’s Eve,” he reasoned, holding his hands out in defense. “I am not stepping foot in that maze again. I refuse.”

Suddenly, you felt as if you were ten again, scowling before dragging Harvey off your farm. Your pet looked at you and wagged its tail as you bolted past it, tilting its head at the man who was begrudgingly letting you take him with you. You’d invited him to dinner at your place before the festival as a “treat,” though you really just wanted the opportunity to persuade him. After all those years, though, it seemed your friend was still the same ball of anxiety he’d always been.

“Please, I even tried doing it by myself last year, I couldn’t make it past the first turn. I’ll do anything else!” Harvey all but begged, and you glanced back at him with a skeptical stare. “I swear.”

You paused your steps, the cold, Fall air blowing on the back of your neck. “Really?” you asked, thinking of ways you could test his promise. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Kiss me.

“Come to the mines with me.” 

“What?! Absolutely not! I’ve treated the wounds you’ve gotten from that place — after countless reminders to be careful, mind you,” he chastised, and a smile twitched on your lips at the sight of his concern. “I wouldn’t last five minutes!”

“Exactly,” you responded bluntly. “But I bet you’d make it at least five minutes in the maze.”

He frowned, and when he didn’t reply, you decided you had to pull out your ultimatum.

Sighing, you turned around and forced yourself to hold back a grin at the sound of Harvey’s knowing groan.

“Oh, not this, Y/N, you can’t pull this again—”

“It’s fine!” you interrupted, beginning to walk away from him. “It’s totally fine, Harvs. I’ll just go in there, alone.”

“Please, this trick has worked on me enough in the past, but I won’t budge this time around.” Sure. As if you couldn’t already hear his determination wavering.

You shrugged. “Alright. Hopefully I’ll have fun in there, all by myself.” You stopped, turning your head slightly so you could emphasize your voice. “Without my closest friend. Who I haven’t gone to this festival with in years.”

You could practically see his defense crumble, closing your eyes and smiling triumphantly as he defeatedly walked up to you. “Fine,” Harvey sighed, and you peeked with one eye to see him shaking his head. “Let’s go.” 

“Yes,” you laughed, grabbing his arm once more and excitedly heading to the festival you’d waited all year for.

As a kid, you had always loved Spirit’s Eve — the music, the food, the costumes, and, most importantly, the maze. You didn’t get to experience it too often, since you usually had to head back home by that time of the season, but when you did, it’d been some of the most fun you’d ever had. Before getting to know Harvey too well, your grandfather took you through the maze every year, keeping your hand tightly in his as he calmly took the lead. Whenever you flinched or shied away in fear, he would stop and reassure you. You still remembered how he’d kneel in front of you, meeting your teary, wide eyes with his own loving gaze.

“You don’t have to be scared, kiddo,” he said, patting your shoulder. “Your grandpa’s here to protect you. Besides, soon enough, you’ll be strong enough where you’ll need to protect me!”

He never failed to get a laugh out of you, no matter the place or time. It was back then you’d decided you would always try to be brave, and before you knew it, you were tackling the maze all by yourself, walking out triumphantly with the treasure in hand each time. 

That is, until you met Harvey, and your visits to your favorite attraction were put on hold.

You couldn’t really complain, not when it meant you got to do arts and crafts with him at the kids’ table instead.

At your age, though, Harvey wasn’t allowed to have any more excuses. As the two of you entered the plaza, you were prepared to head straight to the maze, making a beeline for it when—

“Oof!”

“Oh my, I must apologize!”

You recognized the overly formal voice almost immediately, rubbing your forehead as you looked up at Elliott’s apologetic face.

“Are you alright?” he asked rapidly, grabbing your shoulders and checking you up and down. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much, especially on this already frightening night! Ah, Harvey, you are of medical expertise. Please, check our dear farmer and make sure she’s fine.”

“Elliott, please,” you laughed, shrugged off his hands, and nudged his arm. “It was an accident.”

“And she’s survived worse things,” Harvey chimed in. “I see you’ve already begun to enjoy the pumpkin ale?”

“What?” the poet questioned, running a hand through his silky hair. “Just what makes you think that, my friend?”

“Hey, if it isn’t the doc!” Shane seemed to answer his question for him, his voice a little too bright to be sober as he walked over beside Elliott. He perked a brow at you. “And he brought the farmer, too. Shocker.”

“Hello to you, too, Shane,” you greeted, noting the half-empty glass of ale in his hand. “You going to behave tonight?”

He huffed, offering the rest of his drink to you. You gladly took it, taking a sip and relishing in the delicious hint of sweet pumpkin. “You’re just a damn ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” 

You gave Shane a satisfied smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets, the three of you listening to whatever ghost story Elliott was blabbering on about. All jokes aside, you had been a bit worried about Harvey’s friend. You’d known for a while he had a drinking problem, even sitting with him on the dock one night to have a few drinks with him, but never knew the extent to its severity until you found him beside a cliff one stormy day.

Since then, you made sure to check in on him once in a while and drop off a basket of peppers at Marnie’s whenever you got the chance. Your acts seemed to pay off, as the once cold man seemed to have finally warmed up to you, and as much as you despised the company he worked for, Shane proved to be a good friend. You knew him as much more than the town drunk, but as the pepper popper-loving, chicken caretaker who cherished those close to him.

Which is why you didn’t miss the curious glance he gave Harvey, to which the doctor quickly looked away and flushed pink.

Huh. Interesting.

“Some say, to this day, if you enter the Cindersnap Forest past midnight, you’ll—”

“There she is. We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” You sighed out of relief at the sound of Haley’s familiar tone, practically melting into her as she grasped your arm. “Ugh, is he telling you the story about the woods, or whatever?”

Elliott gasped in offense. “Haley, I assure you, the story has much more meaning behind it than that.”

Before he could go on, Leah poked his arm, sparing the group of another tangent. “That’s enough, El,” she said amusedly. “Come on, weren’t we headed to the maze?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” You surged forward, gesturing for everyone to follow. “You promised, Harvey!” you called out, and the look you threw at him dared him to run away.

You heard him begin to protest once again, but he was cut off by a much louder, enthusiastic voice.

“Are you guys going into the maze, too?” You turned to meet Alex, accompanied by Sam’s bright grin. “You’re not scared, are you, farmer?” he taunted, leaning forward so his eyes were right in front of yours.

“Me?” You pressed a hand to your chest, looking back at him in shock. “Of all people? No way.”

The jock shrugged and backed off, flashing you a confident smile. “Whatever you say. If you need a bodyguard, you know who to call.” With that, he and his friend walked into the entrance, bumping into each other’s shoulders as they joked around.

Haley scoffed. “What an idiot. You could definitely kick his ass.” Leah laughed, and you noticed the soft smile that sat on the blonde’s lips at the sound. Who would’ve thought? Suddenly, you felt like you were third-wheeling.

Thankfully, Harvey came to your rescue, marching in front of the three of you with a renewed passion in his step. He looked over his shoulder, and you almost didn’t recognize the look in his eyes.

“Well?” he asked persistently. “Are we going?”

-

Harvey knew he was being painfully obvious at that point. He also knew Alex didn’t have bad intentions at all, that, if anything, the two of them had a common goal: to keep you safe.

He’d be lying if he said he cared, though. 

If you’d told him a year ago he would be leading a group of people into the maze he’d feared pretty much his entire life, he would call you a liar. If you added in the fact he was doing it to impress you, he would tell you to set up an appointment with him so he could check your head. Yet, there he was, egging you and everyone else on to get their asses in the attraction already so he could prove you didn’t need some gridball player to protect you.

The second he stepped foot through the entrance, though, Harvey seriously questioned if it was worth it.

He never liked scary things — he was an awful person to watch horror movies with, and he had always been easy to startle, as you liked to prove time and time again. He didn’t really see a point in them. Why would he want to be terrified, when he could relax and enjoy himself instead? Logically, there was no real appeal to be scared.

Although, it seemed all logic was out the door, seeing that he’d already zoned out and gotten lost.

Fuck.

You’d been right there moments before, he swore on it. As Harvey frantically looked around him, though, he found he was alone, surrounded by the thick brush of the maze’s walls and chilling noises that gave him goosebumps. Sometimes, he truly questioned how he’d earned a college degree and even passed medical school with a brain like his. It seemed to stop working every time you were in the picture. I am an unbelievable idiot. 

“Harvey?”

He blinked. He wasn’t being tricked, was he? 

“Harvey, is that you?”

As the voice grew closer, Harvey realized it was not, in fact, a trick, and that he recognized the figure in front of him.

“Maru,” he breathed, shoulders slumping in relief. “God, I’m so relieved.”

She laughed at his reaction, and Harvey faintly remembered a time when his heart would have pounded at the sound. That was in the past, though, when he’d first moved to the Valley. 

When he thought you had slipped from his grasp.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked. “I thought you hated this place.”

“Yes, well, uh, Y/N has always enjoyed it, so I thought I would give it another go.”

She glanced around them. “So, you came here with Y/N?”

“Yes, along with Leah and Haley.”

“Uh-huh. And just how did you get this lost?”

He sighed. “You tell me. Mazes have never really been my forte.”

She laughed again as she walked in front of him, gesturing for him to follow with a wave. “Come on, we’ll find them together.”

“Thank you, Maru.”

“Anytime, Harvey.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they trekked on, both listening for any familiar voices. Harvey had to admit, he felt much better with Maru there; her confidence as she walked reminded him of you. He couldn’t help but notice, though, the odd look in her eye, as if she were thinking something he didn’t quite understand.

“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing his pace. “You look a bit bothered.”

She didn’t reply right away, but paused her steps to look at him. “You . . . really like the farmer, don’t you?”

Oh, no. “Wh-What? I mean, of course I do, we’ve known each other for such a long time—”

“You know what I mean, Harvey.” There was no hostility in her tone, no bite. If anything, she sounded amused. “I think everyone’s seen it except you two.” 

“I—” He paused. What was the point? “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. 

“Well,” Maru started, placing her hands on her hips, “you better treat her properly, okay? Honestly, if you felt that way, you should have asked her out in the Spring! What’s with all this dodging around and pretending you don’t feel it? Before you know it, it might be too late.” 

There was an edge to her tone with those words, but Harvey didn’t have time to process it, distracted by the large shadow approaching them. Instinctively, he grabbed Maru and pushed her behind him, his own fear making his heart feel as if it were about to fly out of his chest. 

“Is that you, Harvs?” At the sound of your voice, he could have cried in relief. “Seriously, how can someone get lost so quickly?”

You walked up to him with your two friends by your side, immediately eyeing the hand he had wrapped around Maru’s wrist. He dropped it, grateful the darkness hid his embarrassed face.

“I guess I got a bit ahead of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. Haley was glaring daggers into his skull. “Sorry for worrying you.” 

You shook your head, sighing. “I mean, weren’t you the one who was terrified of coming in here in the first place? What’s gotten into you?”

“Actually,” Maru interrupted, stepping out from behind him, “Harvey was just talking about how he isn’t feeling very well.”

You perked a brow at him. “Really? Please don’t tell me you’re going to throw up in here, again.”

Harvey side-eyed Maru quickly — who refused to meet his glance — before nodding. “I am feeling a bit nauseous,” he agreed, and honestly, it wasn’t a complete lie. He was sure one more scare would cause the dinner you made him to end up on the side of the path.

“Gross,” Haley commented, taking Leah’s hand and continuing on with her. “I am not sticking around to deal with that. Come on, Maru.”

“Wait, where are you—”

“Drop him off, Y/N! Come find us when he isn’t about to yack all over the maze.”

Harvey gave you a sheepish smile as you gave him an exasperated look. “Come on, then, you big baby,” you said, though he managed to catch the smile that took over your scowl. “Let’s get you home.”

The walk back was somehow worse than he remembered. Harvey swore the route changed every turn, but you seemed to walk confidently through each pathway. He had always admired how level-headed you were in such tense environments, unable to fathom how you were able to tackle such places like the mines or the woods at night. Then again, you’d always been the braver one.

“You know where we’re going, right?” he questioned, just to make sure.

“Oh, I have no idea,” you replied, a bit too relaxed for his liking. “We’ll figure it out.”

“What?!”

Snap!

Harvey let out a shout and jumped. Despite his antics, his arm still shot out in front of you protectively, and you immediately began looking around to find the source of the sound.

Suddenly, the path wasn’t dark anymore. 

A glowing, blue light filled Harvey’s eyes, and it took a moment for him to adjust to the brightness before he saw what was in front of him.

There it was. The blue spirit he’d seen under your steps the day you moved in.

“Blue? What are you doing here?” you asked it casually, pushing his arm down and kneeling to greet the small figure. “You nearly gave him a heart attack, you know.” You nodded your head towards him, and the Junimo directed a small squeak upwards in apology.

“You . . . you’re friends with a Junimo?” he clarified incredulously. He dropped down beside you and stuck his hand out, eyes widening as it touched his finger. 

You smiled. “Harvey, this is Blueberry. Blueberry, Harvey.”

“You’re friends with a Junimo,” Harvey softly repeated, looking at you in awe. “You never cease to amaze me, truly.”

You didn’t respond, instead keeping your eyes on the spirit. “Care to show us the way out?” After letting out a responsive squeak, Blueberry turned around and began to light the way. 

As the two of you followed your tiny friend, Harvey couldn’t help but keep track of each time his hand brushed against yours and the way your eyes kept darting over to his. The entire situation was tempting him; you, in the dark, alone with him. A scenario filled his head before he could even register what he was thinking — images of you, your back up against the hedges as he pressed his lips into your neck, his arms wrapped around you as you cried out his name, over and over as he took off your top—

“Hey, is that it?”

Harvey’s thoughts were cut short by your voice, looking down to realize Blueberry was no longer there. Looking into the distance, though, he could see the light of the entrance, the sound of people talking and kids laughing flooding his ears. He let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding, gladly matching your quick pace out of the cursed place.

“Finally,” he breathed. Harvey had never been more glad to see Pelican Town’s bustling plaza. “I thought we’d never make it out.” An exaggeration, sure, but it was the only way he could express his feelings.

You scoffed lightly, patting his back. “Please, stop being so dramatic. You owe me, by the way. I totally would have gotten the treasure by now if it weren’t for you.”

He paused. His fantasy still lingered on his mind, and for once, just once, Harvey decided to be a little impulsive.

“How about a glass of wine, then?” he offered, trying his best to look at you as naturally as possible. “I ordered a new one from a winery and it just came in, unopened. I think you’ll like it.” 

You hummed in thought, then nodded. “I think that’ll do,” you replied nonchalantly. Was that a hint of pink in your cheeks? “Just a glass, though?”

He chuckled, then began to walk towards the clinic. It’s just a drink, that’s all. Nothing more. We’ve drank together before. This is normal.

“However many you’d like, Y/N.”

Maybe his answer should have been different, more precise.

Maybe, if he’d forced himself to have more self-control, he would have walked you home after the two of you finished the entire bottle.

Maybe then, he wouldn’t be spilling the rest of your drink onto your shirt as he kissed you, absentmindedly grabbing the glass and setting it on the coffee table as he pressed you into the couch, lost in the flavor of the wine mixed onto your lips.

“Harvey,” you gasped out, your hand grasping his hair as he lived his fantasy and moved down to your neck, sucking on a spot that made you moan as he hummed into your skin. “God, fuck, Harvey, please.”

The buzz of the alcohol gave Harvey the courage he needed to slip his hands under your shirt, working his way up your sides before grazing over your breasts through your bra. He made quick riddance of your top, throwing it somewhere he couldn’t care for as he finally lifted his head to take in the sight he’d been longing to see.

You were more gorgeous than he’d imagined, especially with your stained red lips and flushed face.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said out loud, voice slightly out of breath and rough.

“So are you,” you replied, sitting up and pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you stood, “and we are not doing this on the couch.” He couldn’t have agreed more.

Seeing you lay on his bed was something Harvey never thought he would actually get to witness, making him all the more committed to making you feel pleasure you’d never experienced before as he unclasped your bra. He managed to stir a couple more beautiful sounds out of you as he dragged his thumb over your nipple, pinching it lightly between his fingers. Then, you gently pushed his chest away and began unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it off the bed. 

This is happening. This is actually happening.

Suddenly impatient, Harvey licked into your lips again as he pushed down your pants and kicked them away. He slipped his fingers over your underwear and groaned at the wetness he was already met with. 

“I think these can go, too,” you suggested, tugging at his belt loops. 

He laughed, a giddy feeling he hadn’t felt before filling his chest. “Yes, ma’am.” Just like that, he found himself naked in front of you, his hard member hitting his stomach as he knelt at the foot of the bed and dragged you forward. A smile lingered on his face at the sound of your laugh, though it quickly melted into a whine as he spread your legs and licked up your thigh. He knew it was mean; he could see how needy you were, how much you wanted more, but he desperately wanted to bring you as close to the edge as he could before he fully indulged you. 

Harvey continued his movements, slowly moving further up before he finally reached the place you’d been begging him to touch, closing his lips around your clit. Your legs, thrown around his shoulders, tightened around him at the feeling of his unrelenting mouth. His arms locked around your knees to keep you in place as he stuck his tongue into you, using your loud cries as encouragement.

“Yes,” you moaned, hand grasping the sheets beneath you tightly. He groaned into you as he licked into your soaking entrance, bringing a hand up so he could sink a finger into you. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

“God, you taste perfect,” he gasped out, watching your reaction as he worked his hand. You squirmed at his movements, eyes shut and mouth open in a silent cry. Wordlessly, he added another finger. “You look so pretty for me, honey.”

Your eyes opened at that, meeting his gaze with a look he was sure would be engraved into his head for the rest of his life. “Say it again.”

“You,” he bent down again, his lips grazing over your pulsing heat, “are beautiful.” His mouth joined his fingers, persistent on your clit as his fingers pressed into a spot that made you cry out. Your hand reached down and dug into his hair, pushing him closer to you as you came. 

After a few moments, Harvey slipped his fingers out of you and wiped your slick off his chin with the back of his hand, getting back up on the bed to meet your lips. His cock was practically begging for release, sensitive to the touch as it grazed against your lower half. He moaned into you, breaking away only to rummage into the nightstand drawer beside his bed for a condom.

“I need you,” you panted, and it only encouraged him further to quickly rip the packaging and pull the condom on. “C’mon, hurry.” Your legs found themselves around his torso as he let out a breath of laughter.

“You never were the most patient, were you?” 

Before you could retort, he pressed the head of his cock into you, both of you gasping at the motion. God, you were tighter than he’d ever imagined, and so warm. He swore you were made for him and him only, watching as you seemed to suck him in. Harvey’s eyes closed when he bottomed out, opening to see you teary-eyed and biting your bottom lip. His heart skipped a beat — had he been too rough?

He stopped. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice threaded with worry and guilt. He pulled out slowly, biting back a moan at how good it felt to move. “We can stop, I’m sorry—”

Your legs drew him back in with a force that made him lurch forward and grab the headboard for balance, and upon looking down at your face, Harvey realized he had never quite seen you that angry before. He swallowed nervously.

“Harvey,” you gritted out, “I swear, if you stop again, you won’t be seeing the light of day tomorrow.”

Part of him wanted to test your threat, but he decided to save it for another time, focusing instead on how inviting it was to sink back into you. His brow was knitted in pleasure as he started to move, his hips moving at a steady rate as they met yours. You moaned at the feeling as he leaned down to kiss you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he groaned, picking up his pace. “Can you hear yourself? Hear how good you are for me?” You nodded, attempting to hide your eyes behind your arm as the sound of him pounding into you filled the air. He quickly moved it and met your eyes which were hazy with pleasure. 

“Harder,” you breathed out. 

When had Harvey ever said no to you? 

He lifted your knees and pressed them to your chest as he found a new rhythm, caging your body in between his arms as his thrusts became deeper. Then, he moved an arm down to massage your clit with his thumb, managing a half-smile at the loud reaction it elicited from you.

“Fuck, there!” you cried, your hands flying to his back and no doubt leaving marks — not that he was complaining. “Right there!”

“There you go, honey, come on—”

“Harvey—!”

You let out a wordless cry as you tightened around him, and Harvey was sure he had never felt so good in his entire life. He could feel your release wet the inside of your thighs. His thrusts became long and deep as he finished shortly after, a low moan escaping his lips as he came. He stilled inside of you as you both panted, sweat dripping down his face.

Harvey winced as he pulled out, mindlessly tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash beside his bed. He managed to find his pants in the darkness of the room and put them on before walking over to the kitchen for water.

“Are you alright?” he asked, handing you the cup. 

“Never been better,” you mumbled tiredly, gladly taking a few sips before setting it aside. 

“You sure? Do you need anything?”

“Stop worrying, Harvs, just go to bed.”

He smiled, grabbing the sheets from the bottom of the bed and dragging them over you. “I’m guessing you won’t be making it back to the farm tonight, then?” Harvey questioned, though he didn’t get a response. Your eyes were already shut. He wasn’t surprised — the mixture of wine and sex was getting to him, too, a wave of exhaustion beginning to hit him.

As soon as his head hit his pillow, though, realization set in, and thus began his sleepless night.

There he was; half-naked with you beside him in bed, and no clue how to approach you in the morning.

[barrenclan]

AYOOOOO NEW ISSUE!

First off, wow. just the visual stuff is really cool, especially how Pinepaw and Nightberry’s eyes glow when their discussion gets intense, or Pinepaw surrounded by the storm in the cover art. And, of course, the multi-pawed art of both him and Night. Idk if you were going for biblically accurate angel vibes without the wings, but no matter what you were going for I really had to stop reading to admire it

On somewhat the same topic, I tried searching for meanings to both the plants and the animals, and sadly I couldn’t find anything for the berries so maybe symbolism wasn’t intended, but I’ll drop everything I found anyway because i think it’s kinda funny a cat comic made me research stuff. I found the wild rose represents love in some cases, but can also represent secrets, which I think the second makes more sense in terms of the current issue, but also love does seem to be important to him, both romantic and platonic. I also found the fox represents intelligence and luck, so yeah, very Nightberry. She’s wise and wants Pinepaw to stay safe. I didn’t know if the burrowing owl was included, but I decided to search for it anyway, and found stuff about laughter being used to guide one to enlightenment and also to share spirituality, which could make sense for Pinepaw if he is really the darkness before the storm, and his quest for knowledge? But probably wasn’t intended, haha

Speaking of that. what! All my boy just wanted was some knowledge!! He didn’t mean to find a mass graveyard!! What makes him so dark Nightberry!!! He did nothing wrong he doesn’t deserve an edgy prophecy to loom over his head!!! He’s BLUE!!!! He’s the clear sky!!!! Speak to yourself you JET BLACK CAT!!!!! anyways

The [spoiler name] being for 4 characters is very what!!! Because yeah maybe the fox and the owl r characters so thats 2 but who r the other two!!!!!!!!! The skeletons???? I am very confuzzled. Obviously you don’t need to try to point me in the right direction, especially if you want secrets, but this will rotate in my head until i figure it out!!

Also I appreciate the last art piece being of the assumedly reburried gravesite, alongside the watchful eyes of that owl. The entire issue was about that one location, and the fact that it’s there makes me feel like Pinepaw might be going back to that spot sometime.

Another great issue! 10 mysterious skeletons out of 10!

YAY NEW ISSUE TIME!

You're the first person I've seen pointing out Nightberry and Pinepaw's eyes glowing, so well spotted. :) I was moreso inspired by Hindu art where a ring of arms are often depicted behind someone than by seraphim angels, but the effect is similar. I'm glad you liked it.

Hehe, it makes me happy that my comic causes people to do research. As it should be. The flowers and fox are not so much representative of their symbolic traits but instead of - and this is partially answering another question of yours - characters! Cause lots of characters in this are named after plants. I'll give you a hint for the 4 [spoiler name] characters; two of them are going to appear in issues very soon, 1 of them is depicted only by implication, and the last one is so obscure it really couldn't be guessed. But I love hearing your ideas anyways!!

Haha, poor Pinepaw. Getting called "the harbinger of doom" can't be fun. But does knowledge come at a cost?....

The place depicted on the last page is in fact a different gravesite, cause there's no tree at the place Pinepaw found the skeletons. But you're right in that it is a very important site!

Thanks for commenting as always :D I love it every time.

[lustlovehart]

I saw the reverse monster au first meeting for Skully and can I just say it was something I didn't know I needed to see, rotating human!skully in my brain Imagine a Monster!mc who sees little recluse human!skully and decides that they're going to keep an eye this interesting human.

They're not used to anything but terror at their presence and Skully doubling down his info-seeking the second he sees the slightest silhouette of them from afar since he's also not used to any attention to him that extends beyond the information he has for hunters Of course as time passes as he and mc get closer he has to panickedly hide them (This is probably OOC for your type of mc but you gave me brainworms I must share)

Instead of rotating Human!Skully in a microwave, I like to imagine him in a salt shaker while I shake him up lmao.

I like the dynamic of boss monster x nerdy recluse human <33.

AHHH!! I love the image of Skully dropping all the work the foundation gave him just because he saw a slight sliver of you <33. Please imagine he was supposed to be penning another well-known monster down (I can't remember if I kept him a human or not in reverse so sorry if i’m wrong ~(>_<~)) like Crewel or something, and while he’s writing everything so diligently he just can’t seem to really immerse himself in the information like he does when it’s about you… A limb points to a bullet point on his notes.

“No matter how hungry Crewel is he never stoops to consuming rats, so you should probably get rid of this.” your voice rings through his study, but he’s too caught up in the papers to realize who exactly is talking to him.

“Huh… I didn’t get anything for that… Are you sure? It would be horribly if everyone got mad at me—! For…” when his eyes finally look up to view his current conversation partner, his words trail off, “… that…” he’s swift to jump back in his chair, the force pushing him back. He’s frozen, not in fear, but in pure shock.

You sigh, standing tall with an expectation of him taking the nearest object and using it on you. It’s too bad, you really enjoyed watching him work on his assignments. He seemed so intrigued in his work—

It’s your turn to shout in surprise, as instead of a blade, he wraps a bracelet around your limb… Somehow, in your favorite color… How does he know something this private—?!

“Please…! Tell me—everything about you.”

Marking your ever growing relationship with the hidden informant.

And the hiding part… Imagine one of the faction leaders, or literally just any of them seeing the monster they’re all collectively obsessed over, resting their head on the recluse secretary’s shoulder. The one who stays in the basement all the time doing who knows what, is somehow interacting with the beast they’ve been wanting to talk to themselves.

(They go to Skully’s office and steal all the photos he has of you in revenge LMAO… Except Malleus, he already has the photos he does as well so he sees no point 💀)

[jodilin65]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel good?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goes to show how little I knew!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2019 Written yesterday:

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

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

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

But WHY??? WHY???

Written today:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three weeks till menopause!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ROTFL!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2019 Found out I won $210.00 off any Tungsten ring and accommodations for 3 days and 2 nights at one of their chosen hotels/locations, and while that in itself may be a substantial discount, it would still cost us for things we’re not interested in. The part of the ring cost that exceeds the discount, and the warranty I’d be required to purchase would be $100 or more, and sure we could stand to stay in San Diego, but we couldn’t charge the car for free that far away. Lastly, we would have to sit through a presentation so they could try to sell us shit we’re not interested in. We’d rather go to Alcatraz for one night as planned. We just don’t know exactly when.

Finished watching Deadly Women and have begun Scorned: Love Kills on Hulu. On Netflix, I’m watching S3 of 13 Reasons Why. Nice to see Chloe go through with her abortion as I get sick of women always happening to keep the kid on TV and making like it’s their only option. There ARE choices! And that choice should always be the woman’s and the woman’s only.

Now can we stop always having to end up on the subject of racism? Even if it’s just a quick mention or example, I’m tired of race having to be brought up in every single fucking episode. Enough is enough! Millions of other topics out there.

Weird got weirder where my maternal grandmother is concerned. No, she didn’t visit me again in my dreams, but after reading back in my 2012 journal (or blog, I guess I’m supposed to call it if it’s digital?), I found something I’d totally forgotten. My paternal great-grandmother, Sylvia, was married to a guy named Joseph. So at least 3 Josephs in the family.

No nightmares or traffic woke me up but I’m even more tired today due to not sleeping as long as I needed to. Couldn’t crash till around 2 a.m. and since my mind was preoccupied with not sleeping too late since I have to go to the lab at the end of the week, I got up at 9. I could have used another hour or two of sleep.

Tom added sound to his app yesterday and he’s getting closer to releasing it. :-)

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2019 So if it isn’t nightmares waking me up at night, it’s traffic. Yeah, the paramedics blew through here at 2 a.m. and woke me up. Damn. Just damn. You know, I’m sorry if someone’s having a medical crisis, but what does that have to do with me? A person should be able to sleep in their own damn home. This shit never would have woken me up in Phoenix and a part of me wishes we fought to get the destructive and disruptive welfare bums next to us removed and just stayed put. It would’ve been a long hard fight in a state that protects, promotes, and favors its minorities, but it would’ve been worth it in the end.

Because of being woken up last night and all the shit I have to listen to in the daytime, especially during the week, it makes me think that a country detour on the way to Florida would be nice. This way I could get better sleep for a few years, and while I may love Florida’s climate, I don’t expect to sleep much better there even in a quieter location due to all the storms. I don’t see that happening, though. I still think we’ll be here another five years and then head for Florida. At least Dorian isn’t heading for Florida last I heard. Looks like Tammy should get some wind and rain but probably not evacuated.

I haven’t lost any more weight on my diet, not surprisingly. It shows that getting the band would do me no good at all. If dieting on my own can’t make me lose weight, a band wouldn’t do it either unless they damn near closed my stomach up completely. No problem, though. :) I didn’t do this diet for weight loss. I did it to be healthier. It saves money, too. 1000-1200 calories is reasonable for one my height and age.

I went from nightmares to strange dreams last night. Last night was the first time in ages that the other bitch showed up in my dreams. My mother’s mother, Shirley, who died in 1985. Only she wasn’t being a bitch at all. She was actually pretty nice, even if I don’t remember a single thing we talked about in that dream.

In one dream, I entered the house she died in through the backdoor, but she was still alive, of course. I went through the kitchen and down the hall and could see far enough into her bedroom to see that she was taking a nap. Not wanting to startle her, I slowly turned around and left.

The weird dream was when I found her sobbing and asked her what was wrong.

“Joe’s going to marry her again,” she said.

When I woke up, I had a feeling it meant something but I couldn’t figure out what. The only Joe I knew I’d been related to was my paternal grandfather who died before I was born. I remembered reading that my maternal grandfather’s mother’s name was Sarah but never knew his father’s name. I only knew they came from Russia. So I looked on Ancestry and was surprised to find his name was guess what? Yeah, Joseph.

But what does it mean??? I don’t believe in reincarnation and I’m not even sure I believe in the afterlife where your spirit simply lives on and does whatever, so I have no idea what to think other than that it sure is a weird coincidence, alright!

[attorney-anon-offtopic]

Crisis & Pain-Seeking Stims

So, I posted a while ago about stim toys for pain-seeking stims. I haven't found anything new, but I wanted to discuss that behavior because some of my NT friends have expressed concern that pain-seeking is a SI behavior.

For me and my autism, there are generally three types of crises that impact my ability to function: I get (what I call, anyway) overstimulated, repulsed, or overwhelmed. They can, and often do, overlap.

I get overstimulated when sensory stimulation reaches a fever pitch; I sort of feel like I'm a staticky balloon and other people (or sometimes animals or things) are pushpins that will pop me if the interact with the static field. When I am overstimulated, the answer is less stimulation, of course, but it is also different stimulation. This is where you might find me rubbing my worry stone on my bottom lip or the side of my thumb. Usually, this will last until I can change my physical state in some noticeable way, such as cooling down fully on a warm day or changing my clothes if I'm wearing a shirt with a high neckline.

I get repulsed when something causes a physical revulsion or rejection reaction in me. I feel sick to my stomach, shaky, and alarmed. When I am repulsed, the answer is to stop doing the thing that led to repulsion. Most often, for me, I get texture-repulsed by my food, and therefore have to stop eating whatever I was eating, or potentially stop eating, full stop. This is the easiest to deal with, but also the most frequent - I am extremely texture-sensitive when it comes to food.

I get overwhelmed when social situations reach a point where I cannot process how to proceed. I feel staticky, again, but not like I'm going to get popped - more like I'm overinflated and will explode. When I am overwhelmed, my go-to response is usually skin picking, especially on my face and arms. What skin picking gives me is a smaller, simpler problem to focus on: the bump I just picked now hurts. However, skin picking is maladaptive (those new sores can get infected, and continually touching one's face is NOT how one reduces hormonal acne, which I still have due to PCOS), and I know that, so I try to practice harm reduction techniques. So, what I do instead is try to find a way to create the smaller, simpler problem to focus on (pain) without the risks - hence, pain-seeking stims.

Right now, I do have a few pain-seeking solutions - I have one of those acupressure rings that looks like a metal scrunchie, a strip of rough velcro, and a little textured gyro spinner from TikTok that has rough spikes on the outside, plus I have a couple rough "calm strips" style stickers. I always want more, though, because I sort of... get used to the texture, a little. Like, it's still rough, but it's a roughness I'm used to, so I don't register the pain the same way. I have to rotate, but sometimes (like this month so far) I need it more often, so rotating doesn't work as well because I only have a few options.

Side note: I also fidget more when I'm overwhelmed, so I also have a bunch of fidget toys to keep my fingers busy.

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[argisthebulwark]

Bryn being so broken and fragile after tld “dies” that the members of the thieves guild make sure that one of them is always at least in the same room as him so he doesn’t try to do anything crazy. No one dares even say tld’s name Incase he shatters, so they use a code word to talk about her instead. One day some idiot fucks up and says her name and poor Bryn just completely breaks down. Instantly half the guild is at his side to try to put him back together while the other half is ripping the idiot a new one for being so thoughtless and careless

Some days he pulled himself together and went through the motions, he almost felt like himself again. Some days it took all his energy to simply exist. He’d gotten used to the hush that fell when he entered a room and the varied attempts at hidden pity in the eyes of his friends. Brynjolf found his seat in the Flagon, irritated by the sudden lull in their conversations. He already knew how bad he looked, he didn’t need to be reminded. 

He didn’t remember what it was like to be alone. They’d been sneaky about their rotations but once the shock passed he’d noticed. Vex went about his work with him in the mornings, Rune sat with him in the Cistern through the afternoon and chatted about random memories, Thrynn and Vipir often found him in the evenings and Delvin drank with him deep into the night. Brynjolf wondered who’d gotten stuck watching while he slept. Mercer had been distant but watchful, he was probably in charge of the latest hours. 

Sleeping was hard, too. He hadn’t dared to enter the Guild Master’s chambers after that first attempt. He’d smelled her perfume and seen where she’d tossed his blankets halfway off the bed. It cracked the last of his resolve. Brynjolf had claimed an unused cot in the Cistern the next night, not trusting himself to sleep in that bed. 

The rest of the thieves had taken to safe topics in his presence, mostly the history of the Guild. They’d taken a sudden interest in discussing the Grey Fox at length. Brynjolf wondered what they talked about when he wasn’t around, if they discussed how badly he was doing. Weeks had passed since his last job. He’d done nothing but struggle to exist in the wake of her death.

Delvin sat in the same spot as every other night. He clapped Brynjolf on the arm in some mock show of cheer before ordering their usual drinks. He stared up at Delvin through the haze of exhaustion, the old man’s face a mask of nonchalance. Everyone had tactfully avoided discussing what Karliah had taken from them. 

“How you doin’?” Delvin asked, the earnestness in his voice new. Brynjolf heard some of the vendors around the Flagon begin to shut down for the evening. He flinched, feeling like he’d poked at some mental wound. She’d been the one to bring in those vendors. She cleaned up the Guild enough for them to start showing up. 

“Fine.” Brynjolf grumbled and tried to shove away the urge to think about her. It was too much to consider. He couldn’t do it. 

The same quiet settled in. Brynjolf’s food cooled, forgotten on his plate. He stared at the chuck of wood missing from the table. He knew what dagger had landed there, he’d been there when she’d stabbed the table after a particularly difficult conversation with Maven. Vex and Tonilia were discussing something about the Grey Fox’s body not turning up. He wondered if they were going to start searching for old Guild relics. 

“Hey, Brynjolf.” Syndus, one of the merchants was standing awkwardly at Delvin’s side. He was looking at Brynjolf with that unbridled pity that made him squirm. “I just wanted to say I’m real sorry.” 

“For what?” Brynjolf grunted and he heard slapping footsteps behind him and half a dozen shouts to be quiet. 

“For Saryn, of course. I heard she died.” Syndus’ nervous chuckle was the last thing he heard. That terrible ringing filled his ears and Brynjolf felt like his brain was suddenly separate from his body. Vekel’s hand was on Syndus’ shoulder, urging him out the door and away from the threatening edge of Vex’s quickly drawn blade. 

A few more bodies cloistered around the exit of the Flagon but Brynjolf couldn’t seem to name them. He couldn’t think of any name that wasn’t hers. He felt hands on his arms and heard someone calling his name but they all felt so very far away. 

“You’re okay, kid.” Delvin’s voice caught Brynjolf’s attention and he nodded, his eyes stuck on that gouged chunk of wood. Saryn was the one to stab the table. Saryn who had snuggled into his bed and left his blankets a mess. Saryn who had given her blood, sweat and tears to the Guild. The girl that stood on her toes to kiss him and snuck her cold fingers under his armor. Saryn was dead in some forgotten ruin. 

“She’s dead.” Brynjolf choked out, the numbness fading until he lost his breath. He saw a sea of faces staring at him but couldn’t discern them. A few more hands lingered cautiously on him but they felt wrong. Somewhere in the distance Syndus was professing his apologies but Brynjolf didn’t have the energy to acknowledge him. 

“You’re going to be okay.” Someone promised him but Brynjolf didn’t believe them. He wouldn’t be okay until he saw her again. 

[buckleyblueyes]

ahh that's amazing! thank you in advance. I got this idea into my head: what if there is this one time they're all on a call, and maybe it's something that hits a little too close to home for Buck, maybe it's playing on his fears and insecurities, but the moment Buck sees what they're dealing with he gets SCARED, and freezes, and subconsciously grabs Eddie's hand, because Eddie makes him feel safe. He is his best friend (who he's in love with, ofc) after all. Eddie is well. Surprised. Very much.

Anon! Thank you so much for your patience with this one! I know it's been ages since you sent it in. I hope it's worth the wait and that I did justice to your prompt! (CW: drowning)

Eddie feels Buck tense up beside him as soon as Bobby tells them where they're going: Splash Zone Water Park. They have calls to pools fairly often, and Buck always gets a little bit tense going into it, no matter how long it’s been since the tsunami. Eddie presses his knee against Buck’s in the truck, offering a silent comfort to his friend. Buck seems to push down his fears by the time they pull up to the scene, forcing himself to shift into Firefighter Buckley mode as they make their way through the park. Eddie lets himself be relieved, until they arrive in front of the wave pool.

Of course it’s the goddamn wave pool. Even worse, there’s a nine year old boy laid out on the stone patio next to the pool, dripping wet, brown hair plastered to his forehead. He’s unconscious, bleeding from the side of his head, and his chest isn't rising and falling like it should be. Buck freezes immediately at the sight, reaching out for Eddie with his right hand, and wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s left wrist. It takes Eddie a moment to realize that Buck is feeling for his pulse, grounding himself.

Eddie does his best to steady his breathing and heart rate once he realizes what Buck is doing. The sight in front of them is upsetting to him, of course it is, but he knows it’s worse for Buck. He’s not the one who walked around for hours not knowing if Christopher was dead or alive. He’s not the one who almost died himself (at least, not that day.) “It’s okay,” he murmurs quietly, so only Buck can hear. “I’m here, I’m alive. That’s not Christopher.” It’s purely a medical call at this point, so he makes no attempt to move away from Buck as Hen and Chimney begin administering CPR to the boy. His mother is crying, wailing, begging them to save him. His lips are turning blue. Buck’s grip on Eddie’s wrist is like a vice.

“We got a pulse!” Hen finally calls out.

Buck’s grip doesn’t loosen, but Eddie does hear him let out of a heavy breath. He twists his hand out of Buck’s grip just enough that he can slide his arm up, so Buck is no longer holding his wrist, but is holding his hand. He gives Buck’s hand a firm squeeze and finally hazards a glance up at the man in question. Buck is staring at their intertwined hands now, confused. At least, Eddie decides, he’s distracted from the drowning boy. He runs his thumb along the back of Buck’s hand, in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

He knows they’re crossing some kind of line here, that hand holding in the middle of an emergency scene (even one where their presence turned out not to be strictly necessary) is not something that he’ll be able to brush off as strictly platonic. It doesn’t scare him like it used to, though. Maybe it’s because he watched Buck date Taylor, so he knows how much worse it would be to not have Buck, or maybe it’s all the therapy he’s been in since the shooting. Either way, Eddie’s not afraid anymore. He and Buck have been on the edge of something--or maybe everything--for months, so if holding Buck’s hand will help ground him, keep his mind from thrusting him back in time, then it’s a risk Eddie is willing to take.

Hen and Chimney are loading the boy into the ambulance--he is breathing again, still unconscious and probably severely concussed, but alive--when Bobby finally makes his way over to them. He takes in the haunted look in Buck’s eyes, and the fact that their hands are still tightly clasped together, and frowns.

“You boys alright?” He asks, but he’s looking at Buck.

Buck nods slowly. “I--Yeah. Just...Brought up some bad memories.”

“This was a rough one,” Bobby agrees. “I’m gonna take us off rotation for a while when we get back to the station.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Eddie says. Buck doesn’t say anything.

Bobby smiles in that warm, fatherly way of his, looking between them. “Take care of each other.”

As if there’s any universe where they wouldn’t.

Eddie doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand until they get back to the station, and only because he needs two hands to cook.

“I’m not hungry,” Buck says, still hovering in Eddie’s space.

“You were about to eat before the call came in,” Eddie insists gently. “You need to eat.”

“And you’re gonna cook for me?” Buck shakes his head. “I think I’ll take my chances with starvation.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling out a griddle and a clean spatula. “I think I can handle grilled cheese, Buck.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes in surprise. “Grilled cheese?”

“Maddie may have mentioned making it for you a lot growing up.” Eddie flushes slightly at having to admit he’s talked to Maddie about Buck. “I thought it would be comforting.”

Buck stares at him, eyes wide and mouth turning up into a tentative smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“Good,” Eddie smiles back. “Now, go sit down.”

Eddie bustles about the kitchen, pulling out the good buttermilk bread that Chimney always buys instead of the whole wheat bread that Bobby puts on the list, the pre-sliced cheddar cheese, and the butter. “After we eat, how about we video call Christopher?” It’s late in the afternoon, he’ll be home from school by now.

Buck lets out a long exhale. “Yes, please.”

Eddie flips the bread slices on the griddle and places the cheese slices on the toasted side. “Great.”

“I--” Buck starts. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

Eddie looks up from the sandwiches. “How to ask for what?”

“To talk to Christopher,” Buck draws patterns on the tabletop with his index finger. “I know I’m not--He’s not mine.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, just plates up the sandwiches, brings them over to the table, and sits down next to Buck, who takes a small, tentative bite.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“What?”

“You said Christopher isn’t yours,” Eddie picks up his sandwich, but doesn’t bite into it. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Buck is staring at him again, confused.

“Look, I don’t know what we are anymore, Buck,” Eddie admits. “Things are different between us now, and I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that you love Christopher, and that he loves you just as much. If that doesn’t give you a right to call him, to reassure yourself that he’s okay, then I don’t know what does.”

“I…” Buck’s eyes fill with tears.

"It's okay, Buck." Eddie reaches over to wipe Buck's tears with his thumb. “Just eat your grilled cheese."

Buck does as he’s told, making it halfway through the sandwich in three bites. “You know, there’s no law that says we have to wait until we finish eating to call Christopher.”

Eddie raises a skeptical eyebrow, looking up from his own half-eaten lunch. “Will you actually finish eating if we call now?”

“Absolutely.” Buck takes a big bite to prove his point. “See?” He says, through a mouthful of food. Something so childish shouldn’t be so endearing, and yet, somehow it is.

Helpless, Eddie pulls out his phone. Carla answers on the second ring. “You better have a good reason for interrupting math homework.”

“I do.” Eddie assures her. “Can you put Chris on?”

Carla gives him a look, but does as he asks. Christopher is grinning--probably excited to have his math homework interrupted “Hi, Dad!”

“Hey, kid.” Eddie can’t help but return his son’s smile. “How’s the math homework going?”

Christopher’s smile falters slightly. “Oh, it’s good.”

Somehow Eddie doesn’t totally believe that, but it’s not important now. “Listen, I’ve got somebody here who wants to say ‘hi’, is that okay?”

The boy’s smile comes back even wider than before. “Is it Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough that the phone can catch it. “It’s me.”

“Hand the phone to Buck, Dad!” Christopher is bouncing with excitement. “Hand the phone to Buck!”

He does, scooching his chair closer so he can still see the screen himself, and before Buck can even greet Christopher, the kid is launching into a monologue.

“Buck! Dr. Lassiter assigned us a big, semester-long project for science class, can you pleeeaaase help me with it? I want to build a model of the solar system, but it has to be totally accurate.”

The tension Buck's body has been holding onto since the phrase “water park” fell from Bobby’s lips is finally starting to fade.

“Absolutely. Do we want it to move?”

Christopher’s eyes widen on screen. “Yes!”

Buck laughs. “Well then, we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Eddie smiles softly, as Buck and Christopher begin planning their project. He knows he must look like a lovesick fool, but to be fair, that’s what he is. He rests one hand over the crook of Buck’s elbow, and doesn’t miss the pink that appears across his cheeks.

“Alright, you three,” that’s Carla’s voice, “Somebody still has math homework to finish, and I’m sure you boys will have to get back to work soon.”

Eddie sighs. Carla is right, unfortunately. But Buck looks lighter than he has all day. “We better do what Carla says.”

“Will you come over after work?” Christopher asks. They won't get off until after Christopher will already be at school, so Buck will probably go to his loft after work. But Eddie doesn’t doubt now that Christopher has asked, Buck will manage to make it over to their house by the time Christopher is home from school. He wonders if it's too soon to ask Buck to sleep in his bed, instead of going to his loft at all. It's yet another line to cross, but at this point Eddie's lost track of all the lines they've crossed.

“You bet,” is Buck’s answer. “Now get back to your math!”

“Okay, dad,” Christopher says, rolling his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. It’s meant to be a joke at Buck’s expense, but Eddie can see the breath catching in Buck’s throat all the same, so he pulls the phone from his hand and takes over.

“Good-bye, Christopher! We love you!”

“Bye Dad! Bye Buck! I love you guys, too.”

Buck finds his voice again. “Bye Superman!”

“So,” Eddie says, putting the phone down. “Do you feel better now?”

“Eddie…” Buck hesitates, dropping his hand down so it rests over Eddie’s. His skin is warm and rough and unlike earlier Eddie can actually enjoy the feeling. “Thank you.” He’s thanking Eddie for more than just the grilled cheese and the phone call, and Eddie knows it.

His answer is simple. He turns his hand over, and interlocks their fingers. “Always, Buck.”

[amerrierworld]

Cigarette Smoke

for the request: top carol/reader smut? Thank youuu

Summary: Carol needs to get out of the house and asks you to come along.

Characters: Carol Aird x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,579

Warnings: smut smut top!Carol you’ve been warned (you’re the babysitter... again.. and things happen, plus at this point the Airds have divorced~)

You watched as cigarette smoke curled around her head. She had the newspaper spread over her lap and a cup of tea in the other hand. Inhaling deeply, the end of the cigarette lit up brightly, and you could smell the smoke where you were sitting, cradling your own cup of tea.

Harge had picked up Rindy half an hour ago, and Carol had immediately rung you to come by, before the silence could get to her. 

You were no longer the babysitter- they didn’t seem to need you anymore now that they worked with two separate schedules, and so Florence would watch over Rindy when needed.

But Carol stayed in touch; she called, asked about your job endeavours, interested in your life. And she would tell you about her ideas; things she wanted to do and see, but never initiated plans to go through with it. She was stuck, and you didn’t know if you knew how to pull her free.

“Just going for the shopping, ma’am,” Florence announced as she headed out the door. You didn’t know if it was just because you were here, but her voice and demeanour were always very tight and constrained around you, like she didn’t approve of something that you couldn’t put your finger on.

Carol let out a shuddering sigh as soon as the door shut behind Florence, grey smoke blowing out from her red-painted lips. Her eyes finally lifted up and met your own as you sipped your tea.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” she asked, nonchalantly, as she put out her cigarette in the ashtray. 

“Where?” you asked.

“Anywhere you’d like,” she said, folding the newspaper neatly. “I need some fresh air.”

You didn’t see any reason why not, so you got up as she went to slip on some shoes, grabbing a lightweight coat overtop her cream blouse. 

Carol pulled out of the driveway in the Packard with graceful ease, and you sank back in the passenger seat as you watched the landscape go by. 

Once in the city, Carol bought Rindy a new toy, and you got milkshakes at a small diner. She was awfully quiet, you noticed, and she popped the candied cherry in her mouth as her eyes glazed over like she was somewhere completely different.

“Carol...” you said, reaching over to hold her hand. The physical touch seemed to jolt her out of her zone and she looked at you like she saw you for the first time that day.

“Oh.. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she sighed, “I haven’t been very sociable, have I?”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” you said, squeezing her fingers, realizing her ring finger was missing a familiar golden band.

“No, no, goodness, please forgive me,” she said, shaking her head. “Now tell me, what’s new with you?”

You smiled, and chatted for a bit as you finished your milkshake. Carol ordered some sandwiches and fries while you kept talking, and you were so enamoured by watching her eat -you had only ever seen her use cutlery, and here she was, licking the salt from her fingers and munching down on finger food- that you didn’t notice the time passing by so quickly.

Carol talked about some redecoration ideas for the house, recent drama in her high-class friend group, and how fast Rindy seemed to be growing when she wasn’t home. 

“I would love to come by sometime when you have Rindy again,” you offered, 

“Oh- I wouldn’t be able to pay you, darling.”

“No, not as a job. I just wanted to say hi to her again,” you smiled, “no fee. I’ve just missed her, that’s all.”

Carol seemed a bit startled, surprised by your interest in her and her daughter, but then that bloomed into a sweet, familiar smile, and you enjoyed the way she reached over and squeezed your hand this time.

“Oh, dear, look at the time,” she realized, “I should get you home.”

“I could just get a cab...” you began, but she was already waving her hand in dismissal.

“No, no. I asked you here, drove you around, forced you to go out in public with me. The least I can do is drive you home.”

You blushed, and waited patiently as she paid. It seemed so natural, to get up and help her get her arm in one of her tricky coat sleeves, and follow her out to the car, and get inside and be swarmed by Carol’s perfume when you both shut the doors. 

The drive back to your home went by far too fast. It was already dark by the time you pulled up to your place, and Carol took a moment to stop and look at you from the driver’s seat.

“Thank you for spending time with me, sweetheart,” she said softly, “I know I can be... difficult, especially with what’s been happening. With me, I mean. You’re a very sweet girl for coming when I called.”

“I will always come when you call,” you replied without hesitating. The blonde was startled again, looking at you in the dark, your eyes shining back at her.

The muscles in her neck tensed, like she was contemplating something. Almost like when her mind seemed to wander someplace else, but now it was fixed only on you. And then she relaxed- like she’d been defeated in some internal battle.

Your heart jumped at the change,1 and you were filled with sudden bravery. Then, you said,

“Carol. Turn off the car?”

Without a word, she followed your command, shrouding the both of you in complete silence and darkness. You could see her slightly in the light of a distant street lamp, and then you reached over and gently kissed her on the lips.

Her hands were still gripping the steering wheel so you pressed a little harder with your lips, tasting the waxiness of her lipstick. And then she inhaled sharply, before forcing your mouth open with her tongue, letting it slide along yours. One hand reached up to grasp your jaw, and she breathed you in.

You gasped into her mouth, feeling her touch like fire on your skin. You pulled away only to scoot over and push your door open. Then you whipped your head back to look at Carol and said, barely a whisper,

“Come inside?”

Carol stepped out the car before you even managed to get off your seat. While you were out in the open, she was respectable, holding her head high and smiling like any middle-class wealthy house-wife would. And then when the door shut behind you, she was on you, clawing at your clothes.

Her mouth tasted like cherries and cigarette, and you never realized a taste like that could be so intoxicating. 

“Bed?” she asked, pulling at your shirt, and you led her to your bedroom, where she promptly pushed you down on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise.

You wormed you hands up underneath her shirt, making her shiver as you explored her smooth skin. Her skirt was too tight for her to straddle you properly and she cursed in a low voice before shimmying out of it. 

Once free, you salivated at the sight of her stockings and underwear, and as she pulled the blouse over her head your face was right there to kiss her chest, hold her by the waist, and pull her closer.

“Oh, sweet girl,” she breathed. Her voice always got lower and raspier after she had a cigarette, which she did after the sandwiches at the diner. You mewled into her skin, feeling goosebumps break out over your body at her words. 

She got you up on your knees to help you take off the rest of your own clothes, carefully peeling each piece off of you, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. 

“Do we have to be quiet, baby?” she whispered, cradling your face to look up at her. You thought for a moment, and reluctantly nodded. You weren’t sure what the neighbours would think if they heard anything, and definitely didn’t want to cross that line now.

“Well alright then,” she purred, pushing you back on the bed. She straddled you, settling down on you comfortably. You felt the searing heat coming from between her legs, and you squirmed.

“No moving,” she said, because her eyes were fluttering shut at the friction from you moving underneath her. You stilled, choosing to run your hands over the smoothness of her stockings instead.

She leaned down and pinned your arms above your head, rotating her hips seductively, keeping her eyes on your face and a smile on her lips. Her lipstick was already smudged, you noticed.

“I realize I should have asked this first, but.. are you alright with this?” she asked, her thumbs rubbing over the pulse points on your wrists.

“Y-yes, yes, of course,” you replied, looking at the way her curls were loosening and falling into her face. 

“Good,” she grinned, and pressed a deep kiss to your mouth before moving down your neck, “because I have been thinking about this for a long time.”

She nipped at your collarbone and you squealed. One of her hands came down to press a finger to your lips.

“Shhhhh, baby. Quiet, remember?” she said. You gasped in response as her tongue ran down your breast, over your nipple, swirling around your belly button.

“F-fuck,” you hissed, grabbing at your pillows. Your body rose up again as she nuzzled you between your legs, right where you inner thigh met your pelvis. A tongue licked slowly up, collecting your wetness and sweat, and you shivered. 

“Carol,” you whimpered, reaching down to grab her hair. Immediately, she pulled your hand away and held it tightly over your thigh. The demand was clear, no touching. 

She lightly kissed your clit, and you bit your lower lip until you were sure it bled.

Then Carol pulled away and said,

“Best prepare yourself, baby girl. Don’t make a noise.”

Once she said that, you barely had a moment to register the words before her tongue and lips dove in, unforgiving and intense.

You gasped, almost crying out if you hadn’t caught yourself, the sound trapped in your throat. Your arms and legs shook as she held you down and attacked you.

It was deadly silent in your bedroom, the creaking of the bed and your heavy breaths the only audible sounds. You were whimpering, breathing in sharply through your nose to stop your voice from screaming at how she was working you up.

Then her hand let go of yours and a finger began rubbing around your opening, wetting the tip and pushing a finger in gently, but firmly.

“O-oh,” you sighed, which earned you a stilling of motion and a pointed look up through her lashes. You pressed your lips closed and willed yourself to stay quiet again. 

Her finger curled inside you and pressed against a swollen spot that had you seeing stars.

“Let it happen,” she whispered, pulling away for a short moment. Her lips suckled at your clit, and when a second finger pressed and curled inside you, the ceiling above you was replaced by swirling colours and a sense of complete euphoria. 

Your eyes were shut, trying to fill your lungs with air as you recovered from the intensity of your orgasm. Then Carol was there, kissing and licking along your neck. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her as close as possible, wanting to take her in, wanting to feel her as deeply as possible.

“Good girl,” she cooed, lips brushing over your ear. The rumble of her voice made you keen, and your body heated up again instantly.

Your exploratory fingers ran down her body and pushed inside her underwear. You heard her squeal softly and chuckle as you lightly rubbed her, and she pulled back.

“Just a moment, dear,” she said, grasping your hand, “here. Let me just...”

She removed her underwear, and laid back on the bed. You pressed up against her side, burying your head in the crook of her neck. 

“Wanna please you too,” you whimpered. Her hand ran soothingly over your back.

“Such a good girl,” she said, enjoying the way your body rolled against her again, “give me your hand, hm?”

She grabbed your hand, kissed your fingers, and then brought it down to her cunt. Her long legs spread a little more, and she guided your hand slowly.

“Press right here,” she breathed, holding your fingertips a little to the right of her clit, “and then rub a little- oh, yes.”

You followed her instructions as best you could, listening intently to the changes in her voice and breath. 

“A little harder, sweetie,” she continued, and you added a bit more vigour, working your whole arm. Her hips bucked up, and you smiled victoriously.

She leaned over and nuzzled your neck, nearly distracting you from your job at hand.

“Would you like to go inside?” she asked, a slightly desperate lilt to her voice.

You nodded weakly, watching your fingers rub over the most sensitive part of her, entranced by her convulsing abdomen muscles, her legs and her inner thighs becoming slick.

“Go on then,” she encouraged. You looked over at her beaming eyes, encouraging and needy at the same time. You reached further down and ran a finger along her opening like she did with you.

“I’m more than ready, darling,” she gasped, “two will be fine.”

You grinned, finding humour in her nonchalance as if she was ordering another sandwich at a diner. But then when you rotated your fingers and began pressing against her silky inner walls, she gasped and shook all over.

She bit down on the palm of her hand to stop from being too loud as you picked up the pace. Carol was trembling, pulling you down to kiss her continually, wet and sloppy. 

“That’s it,” she gasped, “God, I-I’m almost... shit.”

Her hand flew down as you fucked her with your fingers. She rubbed at her clit with expert precision, and that was the winning ticket. She whined into your mouth as she came, hips stilling and her body locking as she reached that peak.

You watched in awe as her eyes slowly opened at you, unfocused as she rode the last few pulses of pleasure, convulsing around your fingers.

The two of you laid there in content, sharing gentle kisses and breaths. She urged you to suck your fingers, grinning as you slurped her taste off your fingers before doing the same to her own.

“Sweeter than any milkshake,” she hummed, making you blush. She sat up a little, rearranging the pillows to relax a moment. You were going to pull away to give her some space, but her arm wrapped around you and held you close. 

She kissed you right by your hairline, whispering “beautiful” with soft endearment. You sighed and captured her lips again, addicted to every taste of her, every motion of her mouth and body.

Then she pulled away, but only to light a cigarette. The smoke swirled around her head again, and then she looked at you with those stunning grey eyes,

“Do you want to try?” she nodded towards the cigarette. 

“No,” you smiled, turning over on your side towards her, “I’d much rather watch you smoke.”

She laughed, and said, “alright,” before inhaling once more. 

[expectingtofly]

Painted Nails and Pride

1.7k

internalized homophobia, john being an a**hole, bisexual dean, found family, happy ending

written for day 7 of @spnprideweek

Music boomed from the park down the street and Dean tried to focus on the newspapers spread out before him, front pages covered with news about a bear attack at a campsite a few miles west. Not actually a bear attack, of course. From the tracks they’d seen when they hiked out there yesterday, Dad's money was on wendigo.

Cheering drew his eyes from the table where he, Sam, and Dad sat outside a restaurant to the people heading down the sidewalk towards the music. Banners on streetlights along the road proclaimed that today marked Roseville's 3rd Annual Pride Parade. His eyes snagged on a group of kids his own age standing on the street corner, hugging and talking excitedly. One boy had painted nails and wore a cropped shirt that exposed his midriff. As he talked with his friends, he looked around, and his eyes met Dean’s. He smiled at him, and Dean ducked his head, face burning.

An announcer’s voice echoed down the street. “Welcome to Pride,” the voice boomed. Dean folded and unfolded the corner of the newspaper, listening to the cheering, rotating the ring on his thumb around and around.

Dad snorted, and Dean glanced up at him. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, he watched the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Dean studied the newspapers more intently, underlining words just to look like he was doing something productive. Part of him wanted to go down to the parade, just to see what it was all about, but that was ridiculous. Only affirmed by a derogatory comment Dad made low under his breath about the people in the street.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed verbally, jostling his leg under the table. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was giving Dad a glare. Dean gave him a look that meant, don’t start, but Sam ignored him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, and Dean froze, eyes snapping to their father. Dad pulled his eyes from the street to Sam, giving him a long, steady look.

“What?” he asked after a long moment. “You one of them?”

Sam only held his gaze for a second before it seemed his courage failed. He ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled, kicking at the table leg.

Dad stared at him for another long moment, expressionless, before turning his journal around and dropping it in front of Sam. “Shut up and make yourself useful. Sooner we figure out what’s killing these folks, sooner we can get out of this goddamn town.”

He waved down the waitress for another drink, and Dean glared at Sam, who was absently thumbed through the journal pages. Returning to his own work, he snapped one newspaper closed and opened another, skimmed an article about the victim’s family. The words didn’t really make sense in his head, though, and too soon he found himself watching the people in the street again. The boy who’d smiled at him had disappeared, though, probably watching the parade.

Finding a one-off line in an article about rumors of a strange being haunting the woods, he circled it and handed the newspaper across the table.

“Nice work,” Dad said, taking the paper, but instead of the usual warmth from his praise, Dean only felt sick.

He felt about the same now, standing in Jody’s kitchen—off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way during the frenzied preparations to attend the Sioux Falls Pride Parade. Music played from Patience’s phone, some song he recognized from Cas constantly turning the radio dial to the pop music station. Sam helped Kaia finish a sign decorated with the lesbian flag, and Eileen signed with Alex who was learning sign language in high school. Claire sat at the table painting Jack’s nails, who wriggled in his seat excitedly.

Catching Dean’s eyes, he held up the hand Claire had finished. “Dean, look!”

Dean forced a smile. “Looks good.”

“Stay still,” Claire ordered, frowning down at Jack’s hand as she painted his pinky.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. Jody had invited them for the week, mentioning off-hand that Sioux Fall’s pride events were going on, and Dean had pushed aside the mild panic at that comment, told her they’d come visit. He didn’t know he’d be roped into joining everyone at Pride, but here he was, feeling out of place in the corner of the kitchen. Who knew how he’d feel standing at the parade.

“Want me to do yours?” Claire asked, and Dean snapped his attention back to her. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, others lined up next to her on the table, and he froze, realizing what she was suggesting.

His first instinct was to spit out, “I’m not one of those,” but guilt rushed through him for how harsh the words sounded in his head. Defensive words, unnecessary ones because there was no threat here. He didn't mean them anyway.

Swallowing them down, he glanced around the kitchen for rescue. Cas was helping Donna pack water bottles because “It’s gonna be hot out there,” but he must’ve felt Dean’s gaze because he looked over and gave him a reassuring smile. No judgement in his eyes, or Claire's either, for that matter. He had a feeling he wouldn't find any judgement in this kitchen, which should've been a relief, but he had a hard time trusting it.

“Come on, Dean,” Jack said. “We can match!”

You can do this, Dean told himself. It's just Pride, not an Apocalypse.

He tried to smile. “Sure,” he said, going to the table and sitting down, chest tight.

He chose the color blue because it felt less ostentatious than the pinks and lilacs Claire presented to him. Even so, the color looked strikingly bright in the sunlight as he stood along the street marked off for the parade, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching his shoulder. Dean tensed, then felt awful for his reaction, but Cas didn’t move away, only rubbed between his shoulder blades until Dean relaxed marginally. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he managed. Cas gave him a small smile and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A float passed with people waving and dancing on top, a banner strung across the front declaring, “Protect Trans Kids.” Jack waved a rainbow flag around, cheering along with the crowd. Claire’s arm was wrapped around Kaia’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth despite her attempts to look unbothered by the proceedings. Dean wished he could feel that nonchalant. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what threat he was looking for, but the press of the growing crowds and the heat and noise, the bright colors and waving flags everywhere he looked was making him nauseous.

Turning back to the parade, he met Sam’s eyes. “Never thought we’d both end up here, right?” Sam asked over the noise, attempting levity, and Dean wondered if he remembered sitting outside near a Pride parade, feeling so unsure. There were plenty of other instances to remember, plenty of times John made disparaging comments that Dean either pretended to not hear or agreed with out of a panic that if he wasn’t careful, they might be directed at him next.

“This is fun,” Sam commented, watching the parade, and Dean wished he could agree.

Easy for you to say, he thought. You have a girlfriend, people’ll assume you’re straight. But he felt bad for thinking it. He didn’t want Cas to move away from him—if anything, wanted him closer, wanted his arm around him. But he felt too tense to move.

A crowd of middle-aged people walked in the parade, t-shirts reading variations of MOM HUGS, DAD HUGS, GRANDPA HUGS. Dean watched as people stepped off the sidewalk and hugged the moms and dads, some crying as soon as arms wrapped around them.

Without his permission, he felt his own eyes growing teary and he ducked his head, scraped his heel on the sidewalk.

“Dammit,” Jody said. “Where can I get one of those t-shirts?”

“We gotta do that next year,” Donna decided, and Jack gave her a hug.

“You can hand out hugs without the t-shirt,” he told her, and she grinned.

“You’re right.” Lifting her arms, she announced, “Free hugs over here!” People around them laughed, and someone took her up on the offer, telling her, “You’ve got a lovely family.”

Donna beamed. “Why yes I do.” She pulled Claire into a half-hug that Claire resisted, protesting the whole time. “Come here, Sam,” she said, yanking Sam into a hug that he had to nearly fold himself in half for. Everyone else got their turn, then she turned to Dean, holding out her arms.

Dean stepped into it, wrapping his arms around her. A gentler hug, Donna rubbing his back. Dean sunk into the embrace, the chaos around him subsiding for a moment.

“We’re family now, right?” she asked, pulling away to meet his eyes, and Dean nodded. Smiling at him and patting his arm, she turned back to Jody, wrapping an arm around her.

It felt a little easier to breathe now, his chest not so tight. The crowds around them didn’t seem so threatening, just smiling people with their families like he was with his. Eileen cheered as a float passed with an Irish LGBTQ+ coalition, and Dean smiled, easier now, not forced.

Jody pulled Donna in for a kiss that turned into making out. Claire rolled her eyes. “Ew, guys, Gross.” Kaia elbowed her and Claire’s put-on air of displeasure broke into a grin as she elbowed her back. Cas nudged Dean with a small smile when a float of pink, purple, and blue streamers drove past. For a moment, Dean's chest seized, John's voice ringing in his head, but in all the noise around them, it quickly drowned out.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took Cas’ hand. Cas interlaced their fingers immediately, squeezing tightly, then lifted their hands and studied Dean’s nails. Dean had let Jack paint a smiley face on his pinky to match the one on Jack’s thumbs. Staring at them, he thought of a boy at Pride with painted nails, his own fears and wants tightening his chest, but then Cas looked up at him with a smile, and the memory faded into a warm glow.

“I like them,” Cas told him.

“Yeah," Dean said. "Me too.”

[spiretdoom]

14 Days of DA Lovers - Pride

Prompt 7 (half way there boys) for @14daysdalovers~

Pairing: Cullen x Lavellan

Rating: G

Word Count: 918

The knife lodged itself deeply into the outer ring of the target, the throw clearly made with a strong arm despite the poor aim.

“Ug,” Ellana groaned, going over to the dummy that sat in Cullen’s office to grab the knives. “How do I suck at this?” she huffed, struggling to pull the last one out and needing to place her hand on the dummy in order to release the stubborn weapon.

Cullen was asking himself the same question, though he wouldn’t voice it aloud. She was a strong and capable warrior who had fought in multiple battles and sieges at this point that he was completely flabbergasted she could not aim a simple knife. It seemed, by all accounts, out of character.

“You’re getting frustrated,” he pointed out, Ellana making a loud “pff” sound at him before he continued. “You have to relax or else you’re going to end up embedding knives in my wall.”

“Your wall is made out of stone…”

“My point exactly,” he gave her a smirk, Ellana side-eyeing him before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Okay, okay, I see your point,” she caved, setting the knives down and raising her hands in defeat. She leaned against his desk, watching as he made his way over to take a knife from behind her. Her arms crossed over her chest, eyes following him closely as he lined himself up with the dummy.

“You’re too tense when throwing,” he explained, raising his arm. “You have to be loose and fluid or your throw will be too stiff. Make sure your right foot is placed forward and hold the knife like this.” He lifted his hand to show her how he held the knife, hand low enough to leave a gap between his fingers and the sharp blade while his thumb sat pressed against the hilt above the rest of his fingers.

He noticed her intense gaze, the elf taking what he said quite seriously as she grabbed herself a knife as well and played around with the hold to replicate what he did. She looked like a child learning how to use a new toy, a smile catching on his lips as the thought crossed his mind.

Once she was done toying with her knife she looked back up at him as he continued his demonstration. “Don’t try to aim, at least not right now. It’s more important for you to hit the target more than anything.” He pulled the knife back, the tip aimed towards him as the hilt angled towards the ceiling. With a swift movement he threw the knife, the weapon rotating once before lodging itself into the center of the dummy.

Ellana’s ears perked as she watched the knife fly smoothly through the air and hit its target. Her teeth chewed on her tongue lightly as she considered his instructions and demonstration thoughtfully, knowing he made it look way too easy even though he had likely perfected the moveset over the course of many years.

Pushing off the desk, she carefully took his place as Cullen stepped to the side to give her space. He placed his hands on the hilt of his sword like he normally did when he was relaxed, body slightly leaning back as a knee bent to balance out his stance. He watched her as she placed her right foot in front, moving her fingers around on the hilt of the knife until she felt comfortable with the hold. Inhaling deeply, she lifted the knife just as he did, blade towards her and hilt towards the target but slightly aimed at the ceiling.

She didn’t allow her brain to think, simply swung and watched as the knife circled once through the air and hit the target firmly. A large grin formed on her face when she realized she’d hit the middle ring of the target instead of either the outer ring or the wall. Her head turned to look at Cullen, searching his face for any sort of approval. Of course she’d find it. She wasn’t sure why he would give her anything other than that scarred lip smile of his, the man reaching out to her to rub her lower back as he stepped closer.

“That was a lot better,” he praised her, brushing her hair back and behind her ear. “Keep it up and you’ll eventually hit a bullseye.”

Ellana’s smile grew wider, seeing the pride in his eyes and gushing with excitement as the back of his fingers brushed against her cheek. “Maybe I can finally get a fair chance against Thom, too,” she hummed, looking at the target with a look of mischievous excitement.

Cullen’s brows furrowed for a moment at the statement before one blonde brow raised with inquiry. “Don’t tell me you’re doing all this just so you can win a knife throwing competition with Blackwall?” he questioned, causing Ellana to blush brightly and look away.

“What? I, uh…” She laughed nervously and pressed her pointer fingers together awkwardly. Cullen laughed warmly, shaking his head and scratching at the back of his neck.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He teased her, hugging her waist and squeezing her gently.

“I thought that’s why you liked me?” she teased back, leaning against him and tilting her head back so she could look up at the much taller man.

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead, mouth smiling against her skin as he stood there with her against his body. “Perhaps,” he hummed.

[getrising311]

Working with Planetary Days

I hope it is okay that I share this excerpt from my Newsletter this month. It feels right/good to share this on Jupiter's day. Often times, I feel stuck in one place. I don't know how to move on from tasks or I struggle with even starting my day. I wanted to take the time to create an outline of options/ideas/tasks I can do based on the ruling planet for each day of the week. I think that once upon a time, College made me decide that Sundays were the days to get so much done, organize, plan, "catch up" etc- Friday and Saturday's were for indulging and forgetting about responsibilities, monday's were pure panic. Had I attuned to the energy of the days (and diving in deeper, planetary hours, which we will talk about next time) I may have navigated the days and my energy a lot better. Now I am a social worker, mental health practitioner and (baby) astrologer, trying to find the balance between self and others; solitude and socialization; responsibility and creativity; structure and response; Spirituality and Practicality; physical energy and mental energy and emotional energy; work and being still. The purpose of this 'outline' is to provide guidance, inspiration and direction on how to intentionally use our time, more so our Day to our energetic/celestial benefit.  Stick around as I go over the days of the week. Monday-Lunes (Moon)- Wake up late (if you can) Express gratitude (aloud or in a journal/safe space) DEEP stretch (to your ability, if you experience a disability/limitation, I encourage DEEP breathing, belly breathing) Use 'Herbs' (Whatever this means to you) and slow, smooth music (Alternative, R&B, Country, Blues, Jazz, Instrumental, Waves, Sound Bowl if you have one) Drink your coffee/tea/tonic/elixir/etc in one spot. Don't move until you are finished with your cup. Take a drive for no reason or take the scenic route to your destination/appointment/work/home/etc. Either have comfort food or light eating (Whichever your body calls for that day) IF you have a healthy relationship with Home: Call Home or friend or anyone you can be safe with. Water, water, water, water, water, water, water, water, water, water Snuggle up with a comfort item. Practice affirmations. Tell someone you love them (or something of the sort) Tuesday-Martes (Mars)- If you are able, take a walk; pilates; yoga; Tai Chi; dance. If you experience limitations or live with a disability, move to your capacity (bobbing your head to music, stretching upper body, deep breathes, chair exercises, rotating feet/ankles, whatever you are comfortable with. I am able bodied so may be ignorant to the options here-PLEASE educate me if you can think of anything further that those limited can engage in Mars like energy). Earthing Face Masks/Steaming/Scrub Hair Masks/Deep cleaning/Salt scrub Tend to yard work (if applicable and if able) Laundry (ALL OF IT, that means cleaning, drying and folding too LOL) Any tasks you have been putting off, focus on these first. Create a to do lists, categorized by home; office/work; spirit; business, etc. Clean your Spiritual tools Clean the space you spend the most time in Work or be outside if you can. Just get out of your usual environment if possible. Brainstorming. Go to bed early if you can. Wednesday-Miercoles (Mercury) Read 10-30 minutes (Of course more if you have the time and/or attention span😉) Journal 10-30 minutes, let it flow if you can. Create or engage in Minor to do lists Create a grocery list Fill out calendar for appointments or obligations- review your planner/calendar/schedule in general Work on your budget Respond to/Send emails-Respond to/make phone calls Work on/Send out Newsletter(s) Take notes on your readings Delete emails, clear voicemail box, go through paper mail Schedule meetings on this day talk to Spirit Ask questions-exchange information Watch a documentary or informative series Grab dinner or a drink with friends Paying attention to car maintenance may work well on this day as well (schedule an oil change/car wash/fill tank/etc) Learn something new Interact with/engage with your environment (if possible, for ex: walk around your neighborhood, smile at a neighbor; if you have the space work in your kitchen/living room instead of your office; if you're working in an office, see if there is a conference room available instead of your "cube") Get a massage/self massage (if possible/applicable) Turn your phone off, or notifications off before bed. Thursday-Jueves (Jupiter) Sleep in if you can Express Gratitude (out loud or in a journal or safe space) Pray Charge and/or cleanse crystals Take a salt bath/shower Soak your feet (if you can, get an Ionized foot bath) Take one risk today, walk by faith not by sight today Get out of your comfort zone (this will look different for everyone) Buy something you've been saving for or start saving for something Try something new Water your damn plants and/or talk/sing to them Play games (board games, phone games, computer games, video games) Watch a comedy Spell work and rituals Try a new tea or elixir Consult with a friend, guide, therapist, energy worker, etc Friday-Viernes (Venus) Make up, moisturize, hair spray/gel, rings, necklaces, perfume, heels, slacks, corsets, glasses, nail polish- WHATEVER you have to put on your bodythat'ss an extra step than usual-Do it! Indulge in your first (or last) meal today Walk (or drive) somewhere scenic/beautiful Watch the sunrise or sunset. Or catch the moonlight Practice your love language with yourself or with others "Love" yourself (hint hint, wink wink) Make your "space" pretty (this can be your bedroom, living room, kitchen, garden, car, this can be social media platforms, journals) BUMP or BLAST some music Make a playlist Aromatherapy, cleanse or charge your Tools, talk to friends/family, set boundaries and don't do anything you don't want to today (if possible 😉) paint, draw, read, shop, write Take a picture (of you or something/someone beautiful) Saturday-Sabado (Saturn) Start a to do list for today and especially for the week ahead Take care of house (whatever this means to you) Meditate Study Fast (If able/applicable) Journal (esp related to your long term goals, worldly affairs/responsibilities) Clean your space and get rid of what is no longer needed (clean out fridge, throw out papers, take out garbage, pull weeds, etc) Clean your car (if able/applicable) Ask Spirit and Ancestors "What work needs to be done?" Use sound bowl (if you have one), binaural beats, instrumental music Water water water water water water water! Sunday-Domingo (Sun) Practice your skills/Review your skills Perform service (whatever 'service' means to you) Post on social media/Establish social media presence Socialize, actively engage with others and/or your surroundings (if able/applicable) Journal (check your Ego, gas yourself up or practice humility) Review/Activate spells and rituals Pray Express gratitude Choose something specifically for you today Aura cleansing (if able/applicable) I hope this is guiding and helpful to at least someone. I experience such guilt around how I spend my time during the day and this outline/list has helped me attune to the energy of the day and generally make the most out of it. This is a light hearted, intuitive post meant to guide and validate how we can use our energy. I try to be mindful that not everyone has the resources, space, freedom, privilege, ability or circumstances to engage in such activities, my only hope is that at least one thing on this list can be activated in your days.

[batmanaday]

Detective Comics 36 (1940)

Now, this is a bit more auspicious of a start to the year, but you’ll notice this cover of Batman fighting Asians seems like a better fit for last month’s issue. Was there a mix-up at the printers? Who knows.

We start off with Batman seeing a man being murdered. He gets to him in time to hear his dying words--wouldn’t you know it, a cryptic clue--and the police happen on him, mistaking him for the killer. How will Batman ever get away from the hard-working officers of the GCPD

Oh, obviously, he just runs away from them. These are the cops who need help dealing with the Riddler, after all. Then we get some deductive reasoning that would do Adam West proud and some classic villain-shilling... there has to be a catchy way to put that... of Hugo Strange, clearly meant to be a take-off on Professor Moriarty. 

Personally, I don’t think he measures up to Stryker who had a huge army and killed thousands of people with a death-ray in a blimp, but let’s forget that mass murder. Let’s just say it’s Hypertime.

Now, Hugo Strange is a character who’s still in semi-regular rotation among Batman’s rogues... although, ironically given his build-up here, he’s probably best-remembered for being a kinky sex weirdo. He’ll still have a good showing in the iconic Englehart/Rogers run and generally makes it into adaptations in one form or another, although I don’t think he’s gotten to headline a movie yet. Poor fellow just has a few other, better-known villains who fall under the same umbrella as him, so they tend to get the brass ring.

Sadly, this is a bit of a poor first showing for Batman’s first major supervillain. His big plan is to build a weather machine that blankets Gotham in fog and then steal things. While it’s foggy. And the police can’t do anything because... well, see above.

(Wouldn’t the fog also hamper his own men? Uhhh...)

This is a much longer story than we’ve gotten previously, so there’s more time for sequences like Batman thrashing a dozen henchmen before going down.

I know Batman doesn’t really quip anymore, but I think it makes him more intimidating. What’s scarier: guy coming at you or guy coming at you while screaming God knows what bullshit about bowling alleys? It’s fine if Bruce doesn’t want to do it anymore, but let’s admit that it’s not about being a better crimefighter, it’s just because he’s afraid it makes him look lame. 

That’s going in my reaction images folder.

Of course, inevitably Batman goes down eventually to a blackjack from behind and instead of just killing him or taking his mask off, it’s Death Trap Time. Although Strange’s death-trap is a little... hmmm...

It’s going to take a couple decades, but this is going to end up awkward for everyone involved.

Batman breaks free and uses sleeping gas on Strange’s henchmen, starting the proud The Dark Knight Rises tradition of “wait, you have a gadget that basically lets you instantly win any fight? Then why are you beating people up?” But Strange isn’t going down so easy.

He’s even a physical match for Batman. This is surely a character that’s going to get a lot of respect in future stories.

And thus, the day is saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls the Batman. And this will surely be the last time people think Batman is a dangerous criminal. Oh well. Look, the first time one of these ends with the villain vowing vengeance. Which he’ll kinda get! Weirdly prophetic. 

[rosy-cheekx]

Alone Again, Naturally

Three times Martin should have called for help.

(I twisted my ankle on Sunday and was bummed bc I missed my partner so…this happened…oops.)

-

1.

Martin’s phone was missing, though he was pretty sure he knew where it was. That thing, that wormy, writhing mass of a woman had it. Destroyed it. His only chance of rescue from this nightmare. Replaying the image of dropping the phone, abandoning it as he ran, would do him no good. His coworkers hadn’t noticed he was missing, or if they had noticed, they hadn’t stopped by. And they shouldn't, of course, it would only put them in danger. But still, it stung a bit, to know that he’d been gone for what, three days now? and no one cared.

He could become a statement from this, Martin realized, his death narrated in Jon’s smooth, clipped voice, and then they would finally learn what happened to that large, oafish researcher who was transferred to the archives with them and disappeared overnight.

Martin sighed through his nose noisily, as if he could expel the dark thoughts with the sound. “Christ, Blackwood. Getting awful morbid there.” Talking to himself had become a staple of his isolation. For one, it drowned out the ever-present knocking on the door and the squelching rustle of the worms. He honestly wasn’t sure whether the sounds were still real or if they had become such a constant that his brain just filled them in anyways.

His voice was the only other sound available to him with his computer not working and his phone gone. His clock radio had played static on every channel, and he had been grateful for the white noise at first. But the longer Martin left the radio on, the sound began to morph from the hissing of dead air to a choir, indecipherable and haunting. There were no words and yet he could understand the message: come home to us. We need you, we miss you, let us show you how much we love you. With us, you’ll never feel lonely again, we promise. Martin had come to, hand on the doorknob to his flat, radio in hand. After that, he had removed all the batteries from anything that could make noise. Since then, he could only trust his own voice; everything else was a trap.

The can opener, unfortunately, had been electric too. He had been so proud of his purchase, a real attempt at adult cooking. (He never seemed to use the manual ones and could never get the grip right.) With the power out, assumedly caused by Prentiss, he had to get creative when it came to “making dinner.” For Martin, this meant sawing open a tin can with a serrated knife, eating it with a fork, and praying no metal shavings were lurking in each mouthful. Tonight’s feast: another can of tinned green beans and the last can of pineapple. He didn’t even like green beans, why had he ever bought these?

Martin gritted himself against the awful sound of metal on metal as he cut into a tin of beans, hissing sharply through his teeth and letting his mind wander. Maybe he could strain the beans? Let them dry? It would probably be better than the wet and soggy mush he was bound to find. Maybe he could put some crackers on them for a crunch? Pretend it’s a bad soup? As he was finishing his indelicate surgery, Martin tipped the can into the sink a little, hoping to strain the bean juice and improve the meal even a little. As he removed the last of the lid, he saw it.

There, in the sink, wiggling its way out of the drain. Another worm. Martin shrieked and jumped back, dropping the can in the sink with a clatter. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and began to stuff them down the sink, plugging up the drain as best he could. For extra measure, he plugged the faucet as well, suddenly terrified of accidentally swallowing one in a glass of water. Once the adrenaline rush had passed, Martin felt it: a stinging in his palm. They must have jumped at him, must have bitten him. It would be over soon, he knew it. He would be like Prentiss, a mass of tiny bodies. He braced himself to feel something, but nothing changed. Martin frowned, chewing on his lip in confusion, and hazarded a glance down to his hand. There was no worm in his palm, nothing wriggling and biting deep into his muscle, just a slice along the flesh of his thumb, dripping blood from where he must have cut himself on the tin can.

Sheepishly, Martin rolled his eyes at his defeatism. Did it hurt like hell? Yes. But he wasn’t going to become a worm monster. Not today. Grabbing a few more sheets of paper towel, Martin hissed in pain as he pressed them to his wound, making his way shakily to the paltry first-aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He was clumsy in his wound care, only able to use one hand to open the kit and the individually wrapped plasters, while the other pooled blood in his palm uselessly. The antiseptic had stung like hell and the plaster was off-center, but eventually, the job was done. Martin had managed.

“See?” He asked himself softly. “All better. We didn’t want the green beans anyways.” Martin was alone, but he would be fine. He could take care of himself.

——

2.

Martin’s phone had become less and less useful since his time in the Archives. Sasha and Tim had been distant in the end, their group texts dwindling into occasional messages regarding whether not someone had contacted so-and-so regarding their statement. He and Jon had called and texted quite a bit, before the Unknowing, when Jon had been in China, America, and wherever else Gertrude’s breadcrumbs had led him. But since the explosion, their messages lay at a standstill, a “good luck! come home safe :)” still waiting to be sent to “Jonathan Sims--Boss.” He used to call his mother every week, but the outgoing calls had dwindled as she returned less and less of them, until he received an apologetic voicemail from Steady Waters Care Home a few months ago.

Now, the only messages he received were his work emails and an occasional text from Peter with a request or two regarding The Magnus Institute. Not even spam calls reached him anymore. That was all fine by Martin. He was busy running the institute; he didn’t have time for social calls, even if he wanted any, which he didn’t. Martin had taken to leaving his phone in his work office, knowing he wouldn’t need it outside the building anyways. It was becoming something like a desktop mouse to him in its versatility.

It was a Thursday, and it was late--Martin’s watch read 11:09. Thursdays were Martin’s days to deliver paperwork to the archives. He could only ever do it at night when he was sure Jon had either gone home (or was asleep at his desk at the very least). Peter Lukas had been working Martin to the bone with all the paperwork he would hand off with a wave of his hand and an “I’ll be back next week Martin. Please don’t call me,” and this week’s stack of statement requests, financial approvals, and quarterly reviews would fall to Martin instead. Who knew running a front for feeding an all-seeing eldritch deity would require so many business expenses?

Martin. Martin knew. He had reviewed and approved each and every one.

It was the week after Halloween, so the list of those eager to give a statement was longer than usual. Hellweek, Tim used to call it, a grin on his face as Jon would frown and shake his head. The stack of folders Martin carried in his arms eclipsed his eyesight as he carefully made his way down the hall, the Lonely silencing his footsteps and the shuffle of his clothing. The elevator was broken this week, thanks to a visit from one of the Fairchilds. Martin clumsily opened the door to the stairwell, turning to the side slightly to see the steps that descended into the basement he knew so well. Cautiously, he began his way down the stairs, arms clutching the stack of paperwork and binders tight to his chest. The basement was eerily silent; even Martin’s muted steps echoed in his ears.

The door to the Archives creaked slightly, and Martin realized his mistake: he hadn’t propped the door. The thin streak of light that painted his way down the steps thinned and faded in time with the slow squeak of the door. The click of the latch sealed his fate: Martin was in the dark. He didn’t mind the dark, in principle, though his new awareness of the Fears heightened his concern considerably. He stepped down slowly, feeling for the steps with his foot as he went.

Halfway down the stairs, Martin heard a soft flutter as a few papers shifted in his stack. He hoisted the pile and tried to readjust it as he stepped once more. The combination of the changes in the balance of the papers and his weight combined were too much for his brain to process at once and he overcompensated on his step, putting his weight down a little too early. Martin felt the rush of adrenaline as he tried to catch himself, hands clutching uselessly at the paperwork in his hands as if it could save him and he felt himself tumble to the ground. Falling sideways, he hit his shoulder hard on the steps, momentum carrying him down the remaining steps to the floor. The loose papers not held in binders and folders scattered in what Martin was sure was every direction.

Martin was frozen on the floor, pain pulsing through his shoulder. He sat up tentatively, patting himself down as he set down what remained of his stack of folders. He wasn’t bleeding, but his ears were ringing and his arm hurt like hell. Listening carefully for the sound of anyone reacting to his presence, he rotated his shoulders carefully, wincing as throbbing radiated up his arm. He must have dislocated it. Patting his legs down, Martin found his phone in his pocket. He must have forgotten to put it on the charger. He...he could call someone, should call someone. His shoulder was dislocated.

He could call Jon.

He pulled up his text messages, the cursor blinking back at him, blinding in the dark. Jon was surely awake, he knew that man’s sleep schedule was worse than his.

good luck! come home safe :)

safe :)

safe.

“Shit.”

He couldn’t call Jon. It would undo everything he and Peter were trying to build up. It was all for Jon anyways, to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. No. He had to do this alone. It was best that way.

Martin sat himself up carefully. He had taken enough first aid courses (rather, he had watched them for free on the internet) to know how to set it back in place and he knew it would not be pleasant. He drew his right knee up, and clumsily unknotted his tie, using it to secure his arm to his knee. Martin closed his eyes tight and leaned away from his knee, rotating his shoulder as he stretched away, wincing in anticipation until he felt the wet pop of his arm slotting back into place. Sparks shot through his vision, his only grounding point in the dark, and he huffed out a cross between a moan and a curse.

He carefully made a fist with his re-set hand, tensing the muscles in his arm. Determining it to be good enough, Martin felt his way to his feet and grabbed the wall to steady himself. He knew there was a light switch somewhere--ah.

The light clicked on and he winced at the sudden change, letting his eyes adjust behind the safety of his lashes. When he opened his eyes again, he surveyed the mess of his paperwork, gathering it methodically. It took him another half hour, back against Tim’s old desk, to resort his files before setting them in the file basket he had installed on the door to the Archivist’s office, the rest going on the desk of Jon himself. He would see them all in the morning. At least Jon was home, resting.

When Martin emerged from the Archives, he glanced down at his watch, wondering if it was too late to hail a cab. He frowned at his watch; the face was cracked, the hands stuck at 11:11. He must have cracked it in his fall. “Make a wish,” Martin mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure his wishes were out of reach, hopeless. As long as he would be safe after all this, Martin could sacrifice a few wishes.

——

3.

Martin was on a walk. He had been doing that a lot, since his and Jon’s escape to Scotland. There was something comforting about the long stretches of rolling hills and rocky cliffsides, utterly devoid of menacing fear entities or bosses hellbent on destroying the world. Jon would come with him sometimes, especially in the early days when leaving each other’s presence was challenging to say the least, but Martin sometimes just needed the space. He loved Jon, he knew he did, and Jon did too, but sometimes the presence of another would build up and stifle him, an unbearable heat radiating off of Jon until Martin had to just go for a bit.

It was raining today, a bassy rhythm beating down on Martin’s umbrella as he walked a familiar cliffside path. He could see a rocky beach below him, waves made of roiling ink, more black than blue. The rain was comforting to him, distinguishing this ocean spread before him from the ocean of the Lonely and drowning out any thoughts that passed through Martin’s head. He stepped around a patch especially muddy gravel, glancing down and seeing a ghost of a reflection staring back at him.

Martin had been in a cold place today, withdrawn from the rest of the world. He had felt the fog blossoming over his mind and had known he needed to go for a bit, center himself, remind himself he was real. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would his sense of self again, though he was making progress. Jon understood that sentiment, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and had kissed him softly at the doorway, squeezing his hand in an unspoken promise. Martin tensed his own hand in a fist, still feeling the heat of Jon’s calloused palm under his, reveling in the idea that someone loved him the way Jon did, that someone loved him the way Jon did and that Martin loved Jon back. Martin felt his body solidifying under the rain, felt the wind buffet against him rather than pass through him.

Martin was thinking about going home when it happened.

Home, or Daisy’s safehouse, was a humble affair: reinforced windows, minimalist, a few guns hidden in the floorboards, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables from the village down the hill. It had been easy to reassign this place in Martin’s mind as home. He hadn’t felt at home since...well, definitely not since Prentiss. Maybe not before either.

The rain was letting up, and the brolly was forgotten in favor of letting the rain drop down into his hair, sopping his curls and plastering them to his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content to be in the rain. Things weren’t good, but they were the best they’d been in a while.

The next thing Martin knew he was on the ground, ankle twisted and both shins scraped, blood and dirt mingling on his legs. He tried to stand up and cried out as his ankle immediately gave way, the hope of putting weight on it dashed on the rocks of the beach far below him.

Martin Blackwood crawled to a tree, leaning his back against it, not minding the dirt that was sure to collect on his back and rump. He winced and massaged his ankle, already feeling it begin to swell under his fingertips. With his free hand, a silver scar shining between his forefinger and thumb, he reached for his phone from his jacket pocket, hands shaking as he clumsily dialed the only number in his list of favorites.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice was warm through the tinny speakers. “I hope you’re well.” It was carefully not a question, though Martin caught the notes of careful concern.

“Tch-” Martin sucked air through his teeth. “I fell, Jon. I twisted my ankle, I think? Can’t-ah-can’t walk.”

“Oh. Martin, dear,” Jon’s voice was softer, and Martin could practically see his love’s fingers, itching to do, to fix. “Do you need me to—I can come get you, if you like. I haven’t…I haven't looked. But I can, if you want me to.”

Martin smiled despite himself, hearing Jon’s cautious phrasing. “Please, yes. I’m pretty sure I’m near a picnic park, if you want to drive there and get me? Not sure this is a drivable trail.”

“Did you pass anyone?”

“…no?”

A pause. Martin heard static crackling through the phone. “No one will be there. I Know where you are, Martin. I’ll be there soon.”

Ten minutes and enough ice packs to ease the pain of a full rugby team later, Martin was laying in the back of Jon’s small car, heat blasting on him to dry his now-soaked clothing. There were perks to having an all-knowing partner, it turned out.

Later that evening, Martin was tucked into the couch, his head pleasantly nestled in cushions and his feet in Jon’s lap, who was carefully massaging his feet and ankles, probing for any long-term injuries with his Eyes. A mug of tea grasped between his hands, Martin sighed softly and felt warmth flood his face. He hadn’t been alone this time. He wouldn’t be alone ever again.

[whump-a-la-mode]

I’m back here again😭 you can’t just leave it in suspense ahhhhh one more please ? Pretty please? Magician one of course ahaha

No worries! With how this one ends, I won’t be surprised to see you right back in here =￣ω￣=

I will make a masterlist for magician’s assistant eventually I promise. Last part is here.

CW//Haphephobia, mitts, collars, missing whumper, manhunts

Someone was touching them.

It was to that, terrifying, startling thought that Villain awoke the second time. It wasn’t that they weren’t used to being touched-- their status as a prisoner made their captors feel to have the right to lay their hands on them whenever they so wished. But that didn’t mean they had to like it.

And it didn’t mean they should be waking up to it, either.

There was no bleariness, this time, to the way their eyes shot open, their body jolting upwards. It was their hands-- their mitts-- that were being touched. Defensively, they drew their arms to their chest, eyes fixing upon their attacker.

To Villain’s surprise, Civilian looked just as startled as they.

That didn’t stop the villain from shaking, of course. They were already so vulnerable...

Without their collar, their cone, there was nothing to protect them. Just the mitts.

Tightly, they wrapped their arms around their chest. Supplying their own affection.

“So-Sorry, sorry about that.” Civilian sputtered, once they had recovered from their own shock.

Lips quivering far too much to allow speech, Villain’s gaze cast downwards.

“I didn’t realize you were going to wake up like that.” Seemingly realizing the extent of the situation, Civilian stood, backing away a few feet from the couch that served as the villain’s current residence. “I was just looking at your wounds. I figured it would be better cause you wouldn’t be scared and- Sorry.” Nervously, they chuckled. “Sorry about that. Really.”

Villain knew full well that a response was expected. Yet, as their fingertips dug deeper to the meat of their arms, they became aware that none was going to be produced. Not at the moment.

They wanted their collar they wanted their collar they wanted their collar they-

They looked up, meeting Civilian’s gaze. A pitied expression danced upon their countenance, yet, in their eyes, there was no such resemblance.

“Well.” The civilian rolled their shoulders back, taking a breath that displayed their insecurity more than anything else. “It’s been two hours, now. Just about. How are you feeling? I’m sure you’d like to rest a bit more, and you can, but... we’ve gotta talk first.”

Certainly, a deep fatigue had buried itself within Villain’s bones. Yet, presently, its profoundness made it irrelevant. Instead, the shock of their surprise awakening had dried their current exhaustion, leaving them with little but shakiness. 

So, in a way, they supposed they had slept well.

With considerable effort, a single sound allowed itself to slip from their pursed lips:

“Okay.”

“Great.” Civilian clapped their hands together. “Also, how are you feeling? Having some food should have helped flush that tranq from your system.”

At the very least, that was a true statement. The forced weariness the gas had imposed upon them had been, for the most part, banished, leaving behind only normal exhaustion.

“Better. I’m feeling better.”

“That’s good. Before you, um, woke up, I was just looking at your wounds. Do they hurt at all?”

Villain had almost forgotten about the bruises and cuts that had been adorned upon them during their escape from the Heroes’ HQ. Slamming into a wall as they had certainly hadn’t done them any favors, and neither had crashing through a glass door. They hadn’t observed their own wounds as of yet, but they could only assume the various throbbing patches along their body could be explained by their brief stint as the human equivalent of a piece of driftwood, washing through an angry river.

“A little bit.”

“Well, if you want, I can get you some Tylonel. You want some Tylonel?”

“No. No thank you.” They’d had more than enough drugs.

“Alright. Well... If you’re up for it.” They rubbed their thumb and forefinger together in a nervous gesture. “We need to talk. Me, you, and Spouse. Is that alright?”

The way they spoke, Villain couldn’t help but feel that there was little actual choice involved.

“Okay.”

“Great! Do you think you can walk? Or would you like a little help?”

“I can walk.”

With the effects of the tranquilizer worn off, their legs no longer felt like jelly. Though pins and needles swarmed them as they stood, they held strong. Civilian ghosted a hand over their shoulder, leading them from the living room and into an adjoining kitchen area. There they gestured for them to sit.

Spouse was already seated, rather silently, across from them. Once Villain settled, Civilian joined at their partner’s side.

As soon as they sat, they quickly swiped an item from the table’s surface-- a cellphone that, to Villain, appeared oddly familiar. Yet, they dismissed it, allowing their nerves to occupy their thoughts.

“You want to start, honey?” Civilian diverted to their partner, who nodded.

“Of course. I guess this is all still a little bit- Well, surprising is the least of it. To start from the beginning, I’m not sure how much you remember of meeting me. A pretty strange way to meet someone.” They giggled. “I was out walking Hydro along the riverside when I saw you, on the bank. It’s lucky that the tides threw you out when they did.

You didn’t want me to call emergency services-- I think you remember that part, probably. I understand why, now. I didn’t understand just how much the Heroes are involved in all that stuff. But, I couldn’t just leave you there. So, my partner being a doctor and all...”

“They carried you all the way home. Now, imagine my surprise!”

“We don’t exactly have much in the way of equipment, here, but you didn’t seem terribly hurt. Just out of it. It’s been... Maybe 24 hours since you escaped?”

“Pretty much exactly.”

“And, we know that you escaped.”

Villain couldn’t help but squirm in their seat.

“I’d heard of you before.” Spouse continued. “On the news. But last I heard you’d been captured. If you’d been in that river just a little longer... Or if someone else had found you...”

“They’re looking for you.” Civilian took over in a low pitch. “It’s all over the news, every channel, practically. All the info’s started to get mixed up, but they’re saying you’re dangerous.”

“We know you’re not.”

“Yes. But, that doesn’t mean that everyone else does. As far as they know, a dangerous villain has escaped, and could be anywhere, now. They say they can track you, based on the signature left behind by your powers.”

All the effort, just to bring them back.

To put them back on stage.

“But,” Civilian sighed. “We want to help you, Villain. As much as we can. But, our house isn’t going to be safe forever.”

They glanced to their partner, who returned the look. The two grasped hands.

“We have two options worked out.” Spouse murmured.

“Mhm.”

“The first one... You stay here for a little longer. One or two days, at the most. But any longer, and it won’t be safe. Then, you have to go. We have supplies you can take. Food, water, money. Though the last one...

We’re close enough to the border, and we have a car. We can take you across the line. But then, you can do whatever you want.”

There was a somber tone, to their voice, and an equally sorrowed pit developing in the depths of Villain’s stomach.

Left alone...

They couldn’t do whatever they wanted, because they didn’t want anything. Their aspirations before had been so simple. A bit more slop for dinner. Being left alone for a day. Not being struck.

Now...

They shivered at the thought.

“The other option.” Civilian took over. “Might be a little less daunting, though it’s your choice. This is all up to you.

The second option is... I have a lot of friends, you see. Friends with medical know-how, just like I do. They live all around the city. You could stay with each of them, for a few days. On a rotating cycle. That way, none of us would arouse suspicion. Then, you’ll have more time to think, and maybe... I don’t know. Rebuild.”

“Even if you want that, you can stay with us for another day, too.” Spouse added.

“Mhm.”

Then, all eyes were on Villain.

“So...” Civilian began. “What do you want?”

When was the last time they’d been asked that question?

“I-Um- I- I-”

“They might need some time, honey. Do you want some time to think, Villain?”

“Y-Yes. Please.”

“Okay.” Civilian sighed. “Think on it, okay? But, you need to choose by tomorrow.”

“O-Okay.”

Spouse looked upon them with a gaze that showed no faux pity.

“They’re stressed, honey. We’re stressing them out. Come on, Villain. Let’s go down something to calm down, okay?”

Just like Hero used to.

Though their idea of calming down was usually putting a hood over their head.

“Okay.” They dipped their head.

“You two have fun, then.” Civilian placed a faux smile upon their countenance. “I have some phone calls to make.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“How about board games? Do you like board games?”

“Um... Maybe?” Villain bit their lower lip. “I can’t really move the pieces- If they’re tracking my powers...”

“I could take those mitts off for you?” Spouse suggested, cocking their head to the side.

“No! Um. No. Please don’t.”

“Okay. No worries. So, no board games.”

They closed the cupboard in which they had been riffling, pushing around boxes of weathered games. Stretching their legs, they stood, scanning a tabletop.

“Hm... What about a book? We have Lord of the Rings...”

A book? They hadn’t read in so long... Yet, the other villains had always teased them for being a bookworm. It hadn’t been since their childhood that they had read much in the way of high fantasy, but-

“Yes!”

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Spouse smiled. “Books it is. Here you go.”

They handed Villain a thick novel, bound in weathered hardcover that had clearly seen many days since its last dusting. The villain gripped it in shaking fingers, glancing at the cover-

And throwing it to the ground.

Dogs don’t fucking read, idiot. Don’t look at that.

Hero’s voice stabbed at them, a strike of lightning in the back of their mind.

Dogs don’t read.

“Villain? You okay?”

“I- I- U- Uh-” They were hyperventilating. Oh, god, they were hyperventilating. “I can’t read?”

“Oh.” Spouse seemed surprised for a moment, before they nodded with understanding. “Well... How about I read to you?”

They’d really take that kind of time?

“You really mean it?”

“Sure! We have to wait for Civilian to get off the phone, anyways.”

Excitement consumed Villain as the two prepared for their storytime. They settled upon the couch, a blanket draped over the villain’s lap.

It was such a grand excitement, that they did not so much as notice the sound, bleeding from Civilian’s phone in the other room.

Had they been paying attention, they would have recognized Hero’s voice anywhere.