#it's like getting hit with a truck twice in a row for me personally

[shiraishi--kanade]

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 22 - bleeding through the bandages

Warnings: swearing, canonical violence

Word Count: 1.5k (gif not mine)

Summary: Maria and Coulson have a debrief, Maria expresses her true feelings about Natasha. Oh, and violence.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

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“Fucking shitheads,” Maria growls, watching them circle.

The five person team is easily broken; two split left, two right and one leads down the middle.

She takes the one in the middle, rolling under her truck, and shooting his leg. He drops and she puts a bullet in his head.

“One,” she whispers.

Two sets of two.

She takes the gun off the corpse, recognizing him as Barnaby, and resists the urge to kick him.

Sliding under the car, she moves to the right, and climbs into the bed of her truck.

Peeking over the side, she shoots twice.

The first one hits, the second goes wider.

Both shots alert the remaining three to her position and she ducks as wild bullets fly over her head and hit the car.

Maria rolls out, crouching low and listening to the sound of boots on the ground.

She hears them before she sees them.

They shoot and miss as she runs at the team of two.

She knees one in the chest, knocking the wind from him. Unsheathing her knife and throwing it, she hits the second in the leg.

“Fuck,” she swears.

He punches up as she punches down. Maria then elbows him in the head, pushing it against the concrete.

She traps his gun between their bodies and straddles him like a lover, smacks him with the butt of his own gun, and then dismounts.

“Three,” she counts.

The next shot whizzes past her head, hot and searing.

She runs.

Shooting behind her, she wants to go back for her knife, but survival tells her to go and she bolts further into the car park.

Maria reaches for her phone, calling Coulson as she runs.

“Maria?!”

He sounds out of breath, as he answers on the second ring.

“Maria! I can’t talk, meet me at safehouse six. If Clint calls, tell him the same!”

She hears the phone drop, and the sounds of dogs barking.

She drops her phone too.

The bicycle left untethered seems the easiest escape and she hopes whoever it belongs to doesn’t need it.

She grabs it and rides, feeling the urgency of the chase and the men at her heels, knowing they’d take her out if the opportunity arose.

She has a choice, take them out or escape; the former feels more dangerous but the satisfaction in doing so, alluring. The latter is safer but she knows they’d still be after her.

She rolls her eyes at herself.

“Fuck,” she swears again under her breath.

“Two to go.”

They’re easily spotted as she stops and scans the back of the parking lot. The sounds of gunfire had made people scatter and their uniforms made them stand out.

She checks her bullets.

Four.

She feels her limbs begin to grow heavy, the initial adrenaline fading. She’s running out of time.

One has her knife.

She hides behind the cars, if she can get around behind them, they’d be easy targets.

Quietly, she drops the bike and confidently begins to move from car to car, keeping out of sight as they sweep the parking lot in search of her.

Finally, they split when they reach the end of the row.

She takes the one that’s limping. Her knife must have embedded deep.

The first shot hits him in the chest, the second misses, but the third finishes him. She retrieves her knife, and feels irate, recognising Seif.

“Fucker,” she doesn’t restrain herself and kicks his dead body.

“One.”

It’s not even a challenge. With one bullet, she approaches him from behind and shoots him in the head.

Satisfied, she takes his gun, holsters her own, and runs back to the bike The sounds of police sirens and emergency services are closing in.

The whole ambush only lasted only minutes, though to Maria it felt hours.

Safehouse six, she thinks, the code is not hard; six blocks from Shield, floor six, apartment 36.

The adrenaline fades further and she feels the stickiness of blood on her neck.

She hopes it’s not hers.

.

Coulson finds the first aide kit under the sink in the bathroom.

He pulls out the gauze and a bandage and puts it to the side. Washing hands, he watches the pinkish-red blood run down the sink. His knuckles split and the knife wound that runs along his left hand doesn’t seem too deep.

He decides against stitching it and instead places small butterfly bandages on either side and then wraps his hand with practiced ease.

Clenching his fist, he lets it go and feels that he did a good enough job.

His shirt is beyond repair.

The closet holds sets of clothing, different sizes and for different occasions.

He opts for another shirt, but rolls the sleeve over his bandaged arm.

He checks his own burner phone, hoping to hear from someone.

No Clint, no Maria or Fury.

He knew it would be dangerous, but he may have underestimated how much cornered dogs fought.

He hopes that Thompson is imprisoned for life for all he’s done, locked up and the key thrown away.

.

Coulson doesn’t have to wait long.

Maria knocks, three sharp raps on the door.

He opens to find her holding a hoodie against her head, soaked with what he thinks is her blood.

“Shit,” he comments, his usual stoic face shocked.

“Got them,” she grins.

He ushers her in and directs her to the bathroom.

Pulling it away, blood leaks from the side of her head, the graze of a bullet wound obvious.

“It needs stitches,” he tells her, “maybe glue.”

He probes it and she hits his hand away.

“Just glue it,” she hisses.

“You have to wash it,” he argues, “you might want to shave it first.”

Maria rolls her eyes annoyed.

“Fine.”

She opts to wash it, Coulson watching her, sitting on the toilet.

“Clint?”

He shakes his head.

“Fury?”

He shrugs.

“I guess we wait?”

Coulson nods.

The water runs red with her blood. He offers her scissors and a straight razor. She takes them, annoyance on her face.

The blood slows as she works her way around the graze, looking at herself in the mirror like she’s putting on makeup.

She sighs.

“That’ll have to do.”

Coulson gently glues the cut, ignoring her wince.

“What’s next?” she asks, admiring his work, and turning her attention back to him.

“Your arm is bleeding you know?”

Coulson looks down, finding his bandage tinged with red.

He sighs.

“Do you think Clint and Natasha are okay?”

Maria nods.

“As long as she doesn’t turn on him, they’ll be fine.”

The words come out flippantly. She meant it like a joke, but it’s evident by Coulson’s frown that he doesn’t take it that way.

Maria feels mean.

After all Natasha has been through, she feels sorry for her; feels like maybe in another life they might have been friends. But still, there has to be caution. She loves Clint like a brother, but doesn’t really know how to keep him safe since Natasha’s arrival.

“You still don’t trust her?”

Maria doesn’t answer straight away. She does trust Natasha, in a way, but to admit that would be something else.

Trusting a Russian? Her military father would roll in his grave.

“Do you think this is her fault?”

She asks the question that she can’t help thinking.

Natasha came and SHIELD changed. She had warned Clint.

In those first couple of weeks, she told him after the attack in the kitchens, that the others were scared of ‘different’. That people are scared of anything threatening.

She didn’t want to be like that, but after the attack she’d just endured, she wondered… would things have fallen apart if Natasha hadn’t come? Or had she just exposed what would have happened eventually?

It’s hard to admit the cracks and fissures in SHIELD were already there, and Natasha had just made it break.

Coulson sits on the closest chair and motions for her to do the same.

“I don’t,” he answers, “but tell me why you do.”

“She came and it changed. She unveiled traitors and now they’re after us, everything is different…” Maria knows it’s unfair, even as she says it.

“And you're scared?”

She shakes her head.

“No.”

But even as she denies it, she knows it’s true.

“Everything’s changing.”

Coulson looks at her.

“Maria, it’s the nature of life and the world we live in that things change. We need change to make a difference. We can’t let Hydra or the KGB or Russia operate beneath us. If we did, what would we stand for? Natasha may have pushed it forward, but it’s not a bad thing. Her being here, she’s made a difference.”

Maria looks at her feet.

She knows he’s right.

It just feels so uncomfortable.

“It’ll be okay,” he smiles, half hugging her.

“Give her a chance. Clint hasn’t done a bad thing. And I think you know it.”

Maria sighs heavily, a grumble on her lips.

.

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2018 The garbage and green waste trucks have been annoying for the last few hours. I miss the days when they just came through, dumped shit, and then were gone. I wasn’t kidding when I said that almost none of the issues I have to deal with here were issues elsewhere. The only thing I don’t get here that I had elsewhere is barking and screaming kids.

Another thing I really miss is the days when I didn’t notice traffic. Other than car stereos, the horn honking they love to do in the east, and a few that would gun engines or idle loudly, I never used to notice traffic itself because there just weren’t so damn many loud vehicles on the road. None of the states I’ve lived in before had constant motorcycles roaring around everywhere. I’m kind of surprised they weren’t a regular problem in Arizona. I could see where they wouldn’t want to be out in the blazing heat but I would think that from November to April they would be.

I took a walk down to the clubhouse, peered through the doors, and saw rows of tables with wreaths on them. I also saw Carolyn. Being one to steer clear of religious-related activities (figured it had to do with Christmas), I turned and headed back home. Made a bit of a detour along the way so I was out there at least 15 minutes. I’ll do more exercise later on the treadmill.

Speaking of Jon and Carolyn, I’m glad the project junkies have finished their latest project which included some annoying circular saws. I hear enough shit around here as it is. Can’t wait to see if she cares enough to wish me a happy birthday on Facebook next week but I would be willing to bet she won’t and neither will Kim B, Eileen or some of the PBers I haven’t heard from. But after my birthday I will decide which Facebook deadbeats should go. I wanted to give them one last chance to do a little more than just sit on my friend list.

I’m not stupid, though, I know she and Jon haven’t interacted with me because they’ve gotten oh paranoid about being more private. It’s because I’m too liberal for them and I complain too much about the park. I realize that most people aren’t bothered by noise. Would the world be so noisy in the first place if they were? But Carolyn did say she uses Facebook to check for birthdays and see what her family posts, so she should get my birthday notification as well. We’ll see. Maybe she’ll surprise me.

While I certainly don’t regret rekindling our friendships, I’m not sure who drives me crazier at times, Kim or Aly. With Kim, I get the same old shit over and over again but only once or twice a day. Aly is literally addicted to texting. She does it everywhere and I mean everywhere. She went to the hospital to pick up her dad but he’s too out of it to be released and what is she doing? Texting to tell me about it.

I don’t know why but I was given $3 of Kindle credit and decided to buy a few suspense books. I’m not liking one of them but the second of three books that I got is good so far.

I managed to lower the amount of spam hitting my Gmail account but my Hotmail account is still pretty overrun with the shit. I don’t know if my email address was sold or shared by someone where I signed up someplace or if some very sorry, lonely and bored soul with nothing better to do has been sitting around signing me up for all kinds of shit. Kim doesn’t have either email address so if it’s a person “pranking” me, it isn’t her. I don’t think it’s any one individual. I think it’s just companies that gave my email address out. Just because they say they won’t doesn’t mean they really won’t.

Although I doubt it will do me any good since nothing has helped yet, I’m going to add a couple of cups of green tea to my diet to see if that really does help speed up my metabolism like I hear it does. My body simply will not respond to diet and exercise and I worry that I’m going to eventually end up gaining an astronomical and debilitating amount of weight with absolutely nothing I can do about it. It would really be nice if the food reminders weren’t every fucking place I go. Listening to a book, the characters are eating dinner. Going on Facebook, someone’s sharing a pic of a restaurant meal. Going on Ask, someone’s asking what my favorite dessert is. Going on Twitter, a meal kit service is promoted on the feed. Reading a friend on PB, they’re tossing up ideas for what to cook for dinner.

Woke up at midnight two nights ago with hip pain and had to take Ibuprofen. I slept fine after that and woke up pain-free. But then at the end of the day, which was yesterday, I had to take Ibuprofen. They were a little achy when I got up today and I thought I was going to have to take some but haven’t yet. Was beginning to think it was a muscle, tendon or ligament injury due to trying to plank this heavy old body but the pain is equal on both sides with only a little bit more on the left. While it still doesn’t seem likely that it would be arthritis of any kind, I suppose anything is possible. I’ll just have to see how much longer it goes on. Maybe it was the weather but if it was then that would mean it’s arthritis. We’re supposed to get one full week of rain next week but there’s no way it’s going to rain every day for a whole week here.

I need a new hobby. One that excites me to wake up every day and know it’s there waiting for me. Something I’m not going to get bored with after a while. Something different. But what???

My heart truly breaks for those fleeing violence in other countries. Really, if you’re an innocent victim and not just making up stories to get what you want at the taxpayers’ expense, I really do sincerely feel sorry for you. I can’t imagine being in such a shitty situation. However, I still don’t think it should be our responsibility to support the thousands of Syrian and Honduran refugees when we have too many people in need right here. Sorry, but I just can’t let political correctness blind me to the facts and statistics simply because society says that’s the correct thing to do. Incredibly large numbers of people coming here take jobs away from those that are from here and raise crime rates. This country is so in debt and we have enough of our own homegrown problems. Do you know how infuriating it is to know that those storming the borders have done so deliberately so that they can get free shelter, food and medical when they get arrested? Meanwhile, we have to pay thousands for our medical needs! :-(

Having some burning down there that’s consistent with the type of burning I get when I’m not treating myself. Has the Tacrolimus stopped working? Am I using too much of it? Not enough? Well, I’m certainly never going to go into any remission, that’s for sure.

Now on with what were mostly some pretty shitty dreams last night. Yes, I’m definitely back to remembering dreams in vivid detail. First, I went to see Stacey and the whole place looked different. There was a couch in the waiting area but most of it extended down this narrow hallway and I thought that they would probably move it soon so people could get through easier.

Then Tom stepped out of a room he had stopped in and told me to go down the hall to whatever room was empty and that one of the therapists would see me soon.

“I want Stacey,” I said as I stood up. “Tell them I want Stacey.”

So I began walking down the L-shaped corridor and passed a couple of rooms with open doors in which a counselor sat talking to a client. One of them was Stacey who was going over some papers with one of her clients.

I continued walking onward and then I fell asleep on another couch as I waited for Stacey.

Then I had some weird dream where a few characters in one of my books were investigating my death. One of them was supposed to be taking pictures of my murder scene, I guess, but she couldn’t do it. So another one said they both should take pics so they could have a backup copy of the images. The one that said this told a third character who entered the room. She was surprised and upset but talked about being somewhere she needed to be.

Next, I was at the clubhouse which looked different and was talking to an old lady about doing her hair. Then a younger woman, which I guessed to be her daughter, said I looked familiar. I said she looked familiar as well and figured we must have seen each other around. Then we started talking about what we liked and didn’t like about the place and I said I found it noisier than I’d like.

The last dream was the scariest. I was watching a boy that was somewhere between 8-10 years old. It seemed like we lived in an apartment building. That night I fell asleep in their spare bed when the mother came home and woke me up in a rage. She showed me the boy’s back. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes to see clearer. It was filled with text with the area in the small of his back being larger. She was convinced that I was responsible for causing this mysterious writing to form on his back because I somehow abused him.

I thought to myself that yes, I might have caused it by nudging him ahead of me a little too hard. She stormed out of the room with him to call the police, or so I thought, and left me praying to a God I wasn’t sure existed or that was in the habit of answering my prayers if He did. I begged him to please protect me and promised that I would never “abuse” another child ever again.

Despite being extremely stressed, I fell back asleep. Rough movements next to me soon woke me up again and I knew I couldn’t pretend not to have felt anything. The mother said something inaudible. I asked her to repeat herself and she still didn’t make any sense.

“Say that one more time,” I said as I rolled onto my back.

She mumbled something unintelligible and then loud and clear she said, “Meanwhile, I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again,” and then picked up a pillow and proceeded to smother me with it. The dream ended with me about to fight for my life, amazed that she didn’t call the cops and wondering if Tom would ever find out what happened to me and if she would ever be caught.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2018 Our service junkies have had this SUV parked alongside us for a few days now. There’s been two or three at their place and I guess they’re working on something inside but at least it’s inside where I don’t have to listen to it. When Tom was coming home yesterday we saw a guy carrying a sheet of wood that looked like a floorboard or something like that.

The weather is still cloudy and wet but I feel much better today than I did yesterday. Started off with hip and upper back pain, but Ibuprofens took it away. Now why can’t there be a quick fix like that for whenever my anxiety strikes, minus the side effects? I’m just enjoying the calm while it lasts because I know that sooner or later it’s coming back to haunt me. I just don’t know if it will be a matter of days, weeks, or months.

Although I feel better rested today, I woke up a million times last night. It’s weird how I went from sleeping well to sleeping like I usually slept when I was going through the worst of the perimenopause. I usually sleep better at night regardless, so yeah, it’s a bit weird. Didn’t take Benadryl before bed the last couple of nights and I wonder if that may have had anything to do with it. I’ve been taking Children’s Benadryl and sometimes not even the full dose of that. Might take it before bed tonight to help me sleep more consistently.

I like how I haven’t heard nearly as many commercial planes but that could be due to the cloud coverage and the rain.

The hypo symptoms are slowly going away but my memory is still so foggy that I don’t even remember much of my dreams lately. I know I had several and each time I woke up last night I made a mental note to remember them but can’t remember anything now. Since more of my thyroid has died I’m now worried that this dose won’t get my TSH as low as it used to. Initially, it got my numbers normal. Then it got them down between 6 and 10. Now I wonder if I can even hit the single digits at all.

Managed to catch up on cleaning and I might do even more later on since I never know how my energy levels are going to be from day to day. I am going to take the day off from exercising, though, because I think it’s more likely that a muscle, tendon or ligament injury is causing my hip pain as opposed to Osteo. It’s unlikely I have Osteo because I run.

Tom and I traded alarm clocks. This one is much harder to read because the stupid idiots that made it have it backlit but at least all I need to do to keep it from being so blinding is lean the throw pillow against it. The tinted cellophane we put on the other one fell off, so since he doesn’t mind the light it’s in his room.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2018 Hello there :-) Saw you in the People You May Know section and while I totally admit that I don’t know the reasons, I have a feeling you had a very good one to kick Sarah out without talking to her first as I was told was the case. I hate to say it but while they may be my nieces they have turned out to be nothing but narcissistic little drama queens. Becky and Sarah have lived together for most of their adult lives and never seem to be dating anyone which hardly seems “normal” and I have a feeling it has nothing to do with their weight. At least not much anyway.

They ended up deleting me because I posted something they didn’t exactly like. I am appalled and surprised at just how selfish they’ve turned out but then I know where they got it from. Yes, my sister never set great examples. The hypochondriac recently told me she’s dying when she’s not and I haven’t talked to her or her brats in months.

Lisa went crazy on me by falsely accusing me of the most mundane of things a decade ago and we haven’t talked since then.

“You’re supposed to be their aunt!” Tammy cried.

Yeah, well I’m also supposed to be treated with respect.

When Becky was in a car accident, thanks to my sister’s horrible writing, I didn’t realize her jaw was wired shut and so I sent a huge package of candy and fruit. While I totally expected Becky to share, I was pissed to learn that Sarah had most of it and had plowed through 80 bucks worth of candy in just a few days rather than wait and let Becky have most of it, the intended recipient, once she was better.

Let me guess…she threatened you or ate your house down? You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to and I will never mention you to anyone ever. I would also appreciate it if you didn’t mention my contacting you, not that I could stop you from doing so. I just have a feeling that whatever your reason was for wanting Sarah out wouldn’t surprise me very much and I will be even gladder that I’m thousands of miles away.

The above is a message I sent the girls’ Aunt Etta, Bill’s sister. Met her a few times in Connecticut when she and her daughter visited. I sent it simply because I’m curious as to whether or not I’ll get a response and what that response may be. I’m not having anything to do with my family now so if God forbid she mentions my contacting her to the drama queen and her spoiled brats, so be it. I meant everything I said too, right or wrong. Since March she’s either stopped using her account or has gone very private because I don’t see any visible activity since then.

Slept shitty. Woke up in the middle of my sleep and had to take Benadryl to get back to sleep. While I appreciate the damp weather keeping things quiet, this is the type of weather that makes me feel tired and lazy. I don’t even know if I’ll have the energy to work out and clean today. That’s why I do it whenever I have the energy because I know I’m going to have these kinds of days every now and then. Then I can take a day off without much guilt or falling behind, though I did do a bit of dusting.

Yesterday was just the opposite and was incredibly noisy. On top of loud traffic, I heard loud mowers and blowers on and off several times from sunup to sundown. And now I hear them again. sighs They just don’t take a day off, do they?

What’s with the two SUVs at the Twenties these last few days? They don’t seem to stay there overnight so I’m guessing they’re out-of-town guests staying at hotels and visiting in the daytime. Still wish they wouldn’t park alongside us and would park by who they’re visiting instead.

Finally managed to disable most of the notifications I was getting on my phone from Facebook but some of them are still worming their way through. Facebook is going to do what they’re going to do no matter what but still… Why must Facebook make so many things so complicated?

Dr. O’s nurse called and confirmed that both thyroid medications can be taken together, so that’s good to know. Still weird how it basically rendered the 50s useless and made it like I wasn’t taking anything at all.

I let her know I returned to 75s as the doctor recommended and cut the Lio out completely. Not sure why Dr. O still wants to see me but since he has the 17th off anyway, I may as well see her six hours after I see Dr. A.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2018 There are only two subjects I agree with Trump on and that’s his stance on Muslims and his frustration with the complications immigration brings, especially when you get thousands of illegals at once trying to storm the border. I don’t think we should completely close our doors to immigration but we definitely need to cut back big-time. We’re way overcrowded here and having so many people flock to the US only burdens our resources even more and raises our crime rates. Some people may come over here with perfectly good intentions but not everyone in those migrant caravans is innocent victims fleeing violence. They’re criminals looking for a free ride in life which our tax dollars would have to pay for so they can sit on welfare or be housed in jail when they commit crimes. We don’t need to spend more money on them when we have enough people in need right here. We don’t need them taking our jobs. We don’t need them causing us to have to wait longer to see doctors. No, we have our own homegrown problems right here. I’m tired of the US being the go-to country for other people’s problems. Why should we be obligated to pick up the pieces every fucking time people can’t get along in their own countries? I totally support the way they’re being tear-gassed and if it were up to me they would get something worse than tear gas fired at them!

This park would be a lot quieter if it would just do away with trees that lose leaves and make a mess everywhere. When my schedule and the weather permits, I like to get out and walk in the sun so that when I’m in the sun when out for appointments or at stores it isn’t so blinding. I know it isn’t any better to get too little sun than it is to get too much. But after hearing ferociously loud blowers in four different sections of my walking route, I was reminded of why daytime walking is anything but peaceful. I don’t understand why people want trees that lose leaves and make such a fucking mess, not to mention so much extra work for those that have to pick up that mess.

Got a message from Dr. O saying she doesn’t think my anxiety is caused by thyroid, see my PCP to treat the anxiety, and she recommends that I keep our appointment and return to 75s as while that dose doesn’t normalize my lab numbers, it gets me close enough.

If I could have treated the anxiety I would have done it years ago, and I told her this. I told her that the Benzos stopped working and the SSRIs make me suicidal. Really have a feeling that if I was meant to treat it, I would have found what works by now. But at this point, I totally believe that I’m never going to find that magic pill I can take that will kill my anxiety when it starts just like I can kill a headache by swallowing a couple of ibuprofen. Some things just aren’t meant to be and I suppose I should quit trying to fight fate, accept it for what it is, hope it goes away someday on its own, and enjoy the calm days when I have them.

This is just ridiculous, though. Just fucking ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to suffer like this. I should know what’s causing the anxiety for sure and I should know what to do about it, whether the problem is mine for life or just until I get to be postmenopausal. I should have my life back. I should have myself back and not just some of the time. Myself as I’ve always known myself to be. Why is that so much to ask for? My worst problem in life should be noise, schedule and sleep issues, skin issues, TMJ issues, being unable to lose weight, and occasional boredom that comes with doing the same things every single day. Well, almost every single day anyway.

So much for “acceptance.”

She said she’s having her nurse call but if I don’t hear from her soon, I’ll call her myself. I still want to ask if the two different thyroid medications can be taken together. Just curious as to how much time and money I’ve actually wasted on the Levo/Lio experiment.

Watched the landing of InSight on Mars. Exciting! I love science/space stuff. I’m all for educational experiments but not for trying to seek intelligent alien life. We just can never know how they may react to our presence. There are no guarantees they would be friendly. They could invade the planet and kill us all for all we know.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2018 Fucking Mexico! They can flock to the US by the thousands but as soon as someone flocks to them (the migrants), they don’t give a shit and aren’t willing to help. Now just like always, it’s likely going to fall on us to have to deal with the damn migrants which means more of our money lost, more of our resources burdened, and more criminals to deal with since you can’t convince me that they’re all perfect little angels.

I would have thought that being a Sunday the planes would still be taking it easy but nope. Back to tons of commercial planes this morning. I’m sure there will be plenty of landscaping as well because the rain isn’t set to return until Tuesday. Tuesday would be a good day for rain, though, as that tends to be the noisiest day of the week as far as landscaping goes.

We ordered a new Echo Dot to replace our first-generation Echo in the living and dining area because it was having issues. We couldn’t replace its cable because they’re hardwired into these earlier models. Sure enough, as soon as we order the new one, it’s working wonderfully. So we threw the Dot that was in the master bedroom, which was the oldest of the Dots, in the laundry room.

The new Dot is in the bedroom and definitely sounds better, especially for music. As for audiobooks, it sounds a bit muffled but it’s still easy to comprehend.

The Dot also came with a smart plug which I have the master bedroom air cleaner plugged into, and a few free months of Amazon Unlimited Music so I’m enjoying that as well. Not sure if we’re going to cancel after the few months or not but I’m definitely going to cancel my perfume subscription as soon as I get my next sample because I have more than enough.

There’s a pink noise track that sounds similar to the white noise I create with off-dialed stations on the stereo to sleep with. Since this Dot doesn’t sound as tinny as the other Dot I was thinking that after my appointments I would see if I can sleep with that just as easily. I’ll still need the earbuds when I’m sleeping during the daytime. I’m doing a couple of experiments right now since I don’t know if they’ll play for eight hours or so even if the connection doesn’t cut out. I’m running multiple tracks of the same brown noise out in the kitchen and I’ve got pink noise on loop mode in the bedroom to see if they’ll run all day. It’s too bad having it run on a reasonable volume doesn’t block out the planes. I’d have to blast it kind of loud in order to do that.

Anyway, I’ve been feeling well and we’re mixing relaxation with household tasks over the holiday weekend. We’re going to clean another section of carpet later and trim some bushes. Yesterday he removed the shower door and the new shower curtain is working out well with no leaks.

Tomorrow I’m going to call Dr. O’s nurse to find out if those medications can be taken together and then I have to decide whether or not it’s worth seeing her next month. Not sure there’s anything more she can do for me since it’s definitely looking like the anxiety wasn’t medication-related as I thought with the exception of when I first went on 75s and when I was tried on 88s. Really hope she says the medications can be taken together because if not, then everything I’ve done since I last saw her was a waste of time, not to mention how pissed I’m going to be that no one told me this up front. Whether they are or aren’t supposed to be taken at the same time, I still don’t know what else she can do for me but I’ll probably message Dr. A and let her know why my lab results are likely to be bad since I don’t know if she’s been kept in the loop or not.

So I will not only have to decide whether or not to see Dr. O again but also if I should stay on the 75s I return to a few days ago or try the Levo/Lio combination again. I’ll probably just stick with 75s. No sense in changing if there’s no connection to my anxiety.

Although I do get more lightheadedness since stopping the Amberen, I’m determined not to take that for a while to see if there could be a connection there but I doubt it. Sooner or later the anxiety is going to return to torment me. I think that if it isn’t connected to going through menopause then it’s likely just the way I’ve become after the trauma I went through 4.5 years ago and I’ll just have to learn to live with it. Still not sure of the best way to manage it because when it gets really bad it can be pretty scary. When it’s really bad I start getting frustrated, angry, depressed and sometimes even suicidal.

Tom and I have been gathering Bing points together for occasional Amazon treats and stuff like that. Was thinking I might get a golden retriever in a lying position with its head resting on its paws when I get $25 accumulated. It’s 17 in long. I would put it by the right living room vent which the Roomba keeps getting stuck on.

Last night I had a dream that just like in reality my friendship with Nane was over but I had known or at least met her in person.

Tom and I were living somewhere in another dream with a block-walled backyard similar to what we had in Phoenix only this yard had a grid of trees. There were maybe 10-12 trees in all and it was just after a big rainstorm. We stepped out back one day and I commented about how the trees looked denser. Tom agreed.

Then Tom was showing me a piece of material in another dream in which he thought a bite mark was present. I then went to some pool area where some guy sat on a lounge chair chewing gum. I told him I wanted his gum so I could make a dental impression out of it and compare it to the bite mark on the material. He willingly obliged, LOL.

Then I had a dream that my nieces were still in school but I don’t remember the details.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2018 I woke up to find Simon gone this morning. I’m sad but relieved since he really seemed to be struggling in the end there and he wasted away to nothing even though he was eating right up until the end.

So that’s two out of three of these very old rats gone. Now it’s just Dumbo. And our betta too, of course, who is amazingly bright, alert and friendly.

Buried Simon near Burke between the bushes in back of the house. There are 4 (cypress?) bushes in the back. Burke is between the two by the small bedroom. Simon is sort of between the two bedrooms, and Dumbo will be by the master bedroom soon. He can barely walk.

Ran to Walgreens for a few things but more to get out of the house than anything else.

We got quite a bit of much-needed rain yesterday and it’s nice that the air is no longer smokey.

Managed to clean a section of carpet in the hallway yesterday. Got the new shower curtain for the master bath, too.

Now, just as soon as Kim, Eileen, and a couple of too-quiet Proseboxers fail to wish me a happy birthday, I’ll delete them on Facebook. I’m sure the Twenties will ignore me as well but they won’t be deleted until we leave.

I still don’t understand how and why so many people can take the word of the Bible so literally and call it “God’s word” when it’s actually the word, opinions and beliefs of those who wrote it. Hell, anyone could write a book about whatever and claim it’s God’s word.

And I also find it rather ironic that people are always quick to praise God when things go their way but when they don’t, they have an excuse ready at hand on His behalf. It was just “His will” or “He has his reasons,” blah blah blah. Funny how it’s never “Maybe He doesn’t give a shit” or “Maybe He doesn’t exist.” I hate to say it but this attitude sort of reminds me of a battered woman that keeps making all kinds of excuses for and defending her abuser BF/husband. shrugs Guess we all gotta do what we gotta do, though, right?

My PB friend who recommended magnesium said another thing she could recommend is a supplement called L-Theanine but I ain’t trying nothing until I talk to my doctors.

The only thing I remember for dreams last night was the race-card-playing black bitch in Arizona, unfortunately. We were neighbors again but the houses looked different. She was sitting in a parked car talking to someone. She was in the passenger seat telling whoever was sitting in the driver’s seat that she wanted to burn certain places down. They hadn’t seen me at first but then I decided I would casually step into view and let them worry and wonder whether or not I overheard her deadly plotting.

There seemed to be another part of the dream I don’t remember. I actually had two dreams I made a mental note of documenting when I got up but I can’t remember the other one either.

Aly and Cam had a fight. They went down to Kansas to see his friends and family and will be heading back to Nebraska at dinnertime to avoid an approaching snowstorm. She said they got in a fight and I wonder if the relationship is going to end soon based on her track record. If it does she’ll be with someone new within a week or two. Or maybe not since I didn’t have a great track record before meeting Tom and we had our share of fights in the beginning as well.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2018 It’s just after 3 a.m. here and the peace and quiet is pure heaven. Right now it’s mostly due to the clouds and rain. Can’t hear the freeway in that case but because rain is so rare here, this doesn’t happen very often. Only from mid-June to mid-August is it hard to hear the freeway and Sunday mornings, too.

While Tom rarely remembers his dreams, he does sometimes get solutions to various problems in his dreams just like I sometimes get glimpses into the unknown. Well, in light of my numbers appearing as if I’m not medicated at all, he wonders about something I wondered when I first started the Liothyronine. Can it be taken at the same time as the Levothyroxine? You’re not supposed to take anything within 4 hours of Levothyroxine so that’s why we’re wondering, along with the shitty numbers. If this is the case, though, then why didn’t the doctor or the pharmacist say something about that? I’m going to be so pissed if it was all for nothing and taking the Lio at the same time I took the Levo rendered the Levo worthless. If I find out that’s the case, and I intend to call the nurse on Monday so I don’t have to bother the doctor on the portal, then I’m not sure what I’m going to do besides want to slap the shit out of the pharmacist. In that case, I could try the combo again and wait 4 hours before taking the Lio or I could stick to 75s.

Either way, I now believe the anxiety is going to torment me on and off no matter what I take so I guess it really doesn’t matter as long as my TSH isn’t over 10. The most important thing will be trying to figure out what I can do about the anxiety itself. I only had 3 hours of very mild traces of anxiety yesterday and so far I’m fine today even if I’ve only been up for a few hours.

My bladder is getting annoyingly leaky as I age. Tom and I are both at the point where it takes longer to pee. It doesn’t leak if I cough or sneeze or anything like that but even sitting on the toilet and being patient and pretty sure I’m a hundred percent peed out, I will sometimes get up and then feel a bit of wetness down there telling me my bladder wasn’t as emptied out as I thought it was. Maybe I should wear liners regularly and God help me the day I have to dive into those bulky and uncomfortable-looking adult “diapers!”

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2018 Yesterday Dr. O’s nurse called with both horrible and shocking news. My TSH is 33! I was stunned. Just completely blown away. I really thought I would be between 10-16. T4 dropped to 0.8. It’s almost like the Liothyronine was not only worthless but made the Levothyroxine worthless as well. So instead of it sending a message to my pit gland to shut the fuck up, it might as well have said, “Scream as loud as you can!”

I practically broke down in tears on the phone with the nurse but she was very patient and understanding as I filled her in more on all I’ve been through over the last 4 years. Dr. O wants me to either give the Liothyronine/50s more time or go back to 75s. I decided to go back to 75s since it’s easier to take one pill and since those at least work. 75s can bring my TSH down to single digits. With the other stuff, I might as well be unmedicated. It was either worthless or my thyroid has diminished even more and to the point that I may not be in the 30s unmedicated but even higher. But yeah, 33 is just one point above where I started nearly 5 years ago. So I’m back to square one. Back to the beginning of 2014, only with horrible anxiety and now depression as well.

With my anxiety being sporadic and my lab results being shitty, this is starting to disprove my medication theory. Unless there’s something about the medication itself, regardless of dose and lab numbers, which the nurse says there isn’t that she knows of and that it’s just a natural hormonal replacement your body needs anyway, it’s now looking like perimenopause really is the main culprit. So unless there’s something else going on with me or I’ve literally lost my fucking mind, that seems the most reasonable assumption. Oh, how I wish I could know for sure! If I could know that that’s all it was and that it would taper off eventually, that right there would be a huge relief to me. But I still can’t know this for sure. I can only assume and hope.

We now believe that skipping as I did may have actually made things worse because as the nurse pointed out, being low on thyroid can cause anxiety as well. Not sure why I didn’t have this problem when I was first diagnosed but I’m guessing it’s because I wasn’t in perimenopause yet. I was just on the edge of starting with that. Since being raced awake by my heart has stopped, I don’t wake up a million times anymore, the butterflies in the stomach eventually stopped, and most of the hot flashes have stopped, I’m hoping this will run its course soon too, and leave me the fuck alone. The absolute worst feeling I’ve ever felt in all my just about 53 years. Now, it’s a no-brainer that the problems I had when I first started 75s and then when she tried me on 88s were due to the medication but this is smacking more of peri. A PBer/friend has the same feeling and is close to my age.

We’re going to be setting up a site with video doctors on my computer in case of an emergency when I’m alone. Unfortunately, it costs up to $49, but it might make me feel better psychologically if I knew it was available in case of an all-out anxiety attack when alone.

Forcing myself not to skip the meds when the anxiety escalates is going to be tough. But Tom’s now thinking that skipping may have been a bad thing and that I only felt better when I skipped because it had a placebo effect on me of sorts. But there was one day that I skipped and I actually didn’t feel calm at all. The anxiety was mild but I do remember being surprised to feel even mild anxiety that day. And when I was scared off the meds in August of 2014 before restarting 3 months later, I still had some anxiety. But this particular type is different. I’ve had it since December of 2016. If I’ve had it all along, then other symptoms have been masking it like back when I was much worse overall.

The nasty hypo symptoms I’ve been having now make sense. My skin has been dry, I’ve been retaining water, my weight is up a couple of pounds, I get cold as hell, etc. The brain fog has been incredibly annoying. I’m forgetting things like crazy, I can’t think straight, I can’t concentrate, and sometimes I can’t even get my voice to cooperate with my mind. I think to tell Alexa to set the temp at 68° before bed yet I keep telling her 60°.

I could kick myself for taking that PBer’s advice about the Liothyronine. On the other hand, it was good to try it but it’s definitely not for me. Other than with Aly, never again will I discuss health issues publicly.

Taking 75s every day no matter what is a scary thought but I did have anxiety when I first started the new medication combo for the first week, didn’t skip, and then it backed off for 10 days before it returned. So again, the fact that it’s been sporadic does point away from the medication.

The anxiety isn’t going away (at least not soon) regardless of its cause. Therefore I really have to do what I can to get it treated and keep it from coming on in the first place or kill it when it does. So far, out of the dozens of things I’ve tried, I just can’t kill this kind of chest anxiety. The butterflies in the stomach were killable with tapping but this has been a real bear. The question is what the hell can I take to keep this beast at bay? What can I take that doesn’t have side effects and that doesn’t eventually stop working?

The nurse also said she would make a note for the doctor and let her know that I didn’t take any medication the morning of the lab. Had I known I was going to be asked to go to the lab, I would have taken it. So there would have been about 18 hours between my last dose and the labs.

Dr. O and her nurse didn’t say anything about canceling our December 17th appointment, so I guess I’ll keep it. Will see her 6 hours after Dr. A. Anytime after next week, I can go to the lab for my yearly blood work for Dr. A. I’m dreading it too, since lower thyroid usually means higher cholesterol and it’s going to take 6 weeks or so to really get my numbers back to where they’re considered safer. Can’t stick with these numbers, though. Too much risk of goiters, strokes, heart attacks and so many other annoying and potentially dangerous symptoms if I didn’t slip into a coma first.

Tired of having to pay for everything, too! So much is on us now and we’re not going to get ahead this way. As I said, I’m in a bit of a catch-22. I want to do what I can to get whatever relief I can get but we don’t have an unlimited amount of time and money. Plus my CRD still makes things hard.

Anyway, I think I documented all the important details. Now it’s just a matter of bravely taking the medication every day and trying for once and for all to figure out what can be done to combat this anxiety. I’ve read so many articles on perimenopausal anxiety and they all say you don’t have to put up with it. Really? Could have fooled me!

So while I sit here wishing I could rip my thyroid, pit and adrenaline glands out and shove them down the garbage disposal since I just can’t get anything that will just kill me, I got up at midnight, stepped into the bathroom and thought wow, it is amazingly dead quiet in here! At this time of year, especially at night, you can hear the freeway in there quite well, but thanks to the holiday, it’s quiet. I’m sure we’ll still have our share of loud vehicles and door-slamming to listen to today because if you’re a neighbor of mine, then of course you can’t go somewhere else for once. Everybody’s got to come to you. rolls eyes

Here comes that loud car. Yeah, I knew you’d be around today, you cock.

We replaced some of Butterboy’s water but we’re otherwise having a lazy Thanksgiving, hanging out together yet doing our own things. I listened to my book, surfed the web, polished my nails in 5 different shades of pink, and my toenails midnight blue.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2018 Yesterday I skipped my meds altogether and felt fine. Right as I was getting ready to read myself to sleep at 11:30 a.m., Doc O’s nurse called wanting to read me a note from the doctor. Now, why couldn’t the doctor simply have sent me this note directly on the portal?

As expected, Dr. O doesn’t recommend 50s and wanted me to go to the lab. I told the nurse I didn’t drive, my husband was at work, and I couldn’t just up and go to the lab. But then I Skyped Tom and he replied right away. I asked if he thought I should go and he asked if I could stay up that long. I said I could and then he said he would see if he could leave at noon. A few minutes later, he left. While he was on his way to get me, I called the nurse back and let her know I would be going to the lab after all.

So we got to the lab which wasn’t nearly as crowded as I thought it would be and only had to wait somewhere between 5 and 10 minutes. One vial was drawn for T3, T4 and TSH.

What really sucks is that our insurance no longer covers lab work so it’s all on us. They keep dropping this and dropping that. I wonder if insurance is going to be worth it in the end.

The portal says the results are posted 36 hours after they get them and are pending until tomorrow at 11 a.m.

I’m not going to play this game again. I’m just not. I’ve had it with all the fucking health issues! I’ve had it with the on-and-off anxiety and depression torturing the shit out of me when all I want to do is just live my life in peace. My sleep and skin issues along with the regular chaos here are enough to have to deal with. I try to do the right thing and be a good person even though I’m not perfect and this is the shit I get for it? Well damn then, what the fuck might I get if I went and beat some random person on the street? Cancer? Yeah, well, sometimes I really wish I would get something that would just kill me. Seriously, I want to just stop suffering or drop dead.

I’m not going over 50s for a while and I don’t care what she says. I’ve made up my mind and that’s that. The only way I’m going to know for sure if the medication, or at least the higher dosage, is in fact involved at all is to back off for a while. We don’t have the time and money to keep going to all these appointments anyway so I’m kind of in a real Catch-22. Yes, I really want to figure it out and deal with this emotional roller coaster for once and for all if that’s possible, but time and money are also an issue. We’re never going to get ahead financially if all these extra expenses keep coming up. We’re far from broke but we’re never going to be able to do things like taking a vacation if our extra money is tied up in this bullshit. I still don’t even know if anyone can tell me what’s causing it and what I can do about it, anyway. Everything has backfired on me so far. So this is why I just want to back off the 75s or the equivalent of it for a while. Dr. O hadn’t seen my second message yet when the nurse called. I let the nurse know this, too.

I just wonder how much more of this shit I can take. It’s like getting the shit beat out of you every day. Sooner or later your body gives out, unable to take any more. Sometimes the urge to kill myself is strong but I just don’t have the guts to actually go through with it because I fear botching it up, what may lay beyond, and deserting Tom. If I could just know what was making me anxious or at least what to do about it or how long it will go on, that would really help a lot, I would think. I mean obviously if I suddenly knew I’d have it for life and there would be nothing I could do about it, that would be anything but helpful.

I’m just tired of going round and round in circles! Now I worry Dr. O is going to give up on me which may encourage Dr. A to do the same because I’m no longer willing to play it their way. At least not for a good 6 months or so I’m not. I don’t see how half a year of 50s would harm me. In fact, I would think that if it ever did harm me it would take forever to do so because 50s puts my TSH at around 16 which isn’t dangerously high. I know the doctors can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do but I can’t make them go along with me either. If they drop me, who knows if I would have a hard time getting someone new since I would think they would want their records. Look at the trouble Alyssa gave me. I mean it’s not literally “trouble” but she’s refused to turn over the information requested and that I signed permission for. Of course I wouldn’t have to have records just to see a new doctor but they could still make things difficult for me. I don’t think it would come to that, though. I think they have better things to do but they could still drop me and put me through the hassle of having to start over again, with or without records.

Okay, I’m rambling on about what-ifs that probably won’t come to pass.

So I took one of the 50s when I got up and was a little worried when I started to feel not anxious but kind of down and lightheaded. I don’t want to take the Amberen in case there’s a connection. The day I felt really bad I had taken Amberen. I’m just taking my multivitamin. Anyway, I feel okay right now.

Moving on from the health stuff, the fucking story of my life… Saw Jon and Carolyn painting their brick planter that runs alongside the front of their place yesterday but they didn’t see us. It’s a good thing they got it done yesterday because we’re supposed to be in for rain over the next few days. Looking forward to it! Loud cars and trucks may still come through but it should put a damper on some of the planes and definitely the motorcycles and landscaping. We sure do need it, too.

Tired of my large monitor sometimes not working, I transferred the smart plug it was using to the bedroom where my rainbow lamp sits by my small desk but I’m still calling it “monitor.”

I don’t remember much in the way of dreams last night. Something about us vacationing somewhere. The place seemed rather large and fancy, wherever it was.

During the dream, a woman asked me to spell certain words and I did. I don’t remember what the words were but after I spelled them correctly she said, “Good. I hadn’t thought to test your spelling yet.”

She seemed to be some kind of teacher and we had worked on other subjects together, whatever they were.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2018 Yep, Aly is a hider. Figured as much. I just don’t know if she’s an intentional hider or if her browser is automatically hiding her and she doesn’t realize it. Regardless, she said she got my email and has questions about it, which she’ll ask tomorrow. She’s recovering from a cold now.

Not sharing this entry with anyone because it’s going to be pretty down and negative. I’m definitely, definitely keeping my main PB account strictly for generic events only. No longer will I discuss my health because I don’t want people giving me suggestions that I may be tempted to waste my time trying. I appreciate their suggestions and advice but it hasn’t done me any good yet. The magnesium hasn’t helped, the Liothyronine was a bust, and I’m sure the ACV shots will prove to be just as worthless come December.

There are other reasons for keeping certain subjects private as well. When it comes time to sell the house, for example, I don’t want potential buyers looking me up and reading how noisy it is here.

Okay, here’s my private health update. Yesterday my anxiety increased in intensity and it started to get a bit scary. No booming heart but tons of adrenaline stabbing me in the chest. I was totally miserable and it was absolutely horrible. I was anxious, I was depressed, and I was suicidal. I literally would have killed myself if it were as simple as snapping my fingers.

So finally I messaged Dr. O and told her what was going on and that I want to drop back to 50 mcg of the original drug and leave it at that for at least 6 months. I said I understand the medication may not be the only culprit and that my hormones may still be unsettled but I’ve had enough of the on-and-off suffering for over 4 years now. I gave her all the dates in which I’ve been keeping track of…when I started the Liothyronine, the 10 days I felt good, when the anxiety began.

Thanks to Aly telling me she could tell when her hematologist picked up her message, I remembered to check and when I got up tonight I found that the message had gone from unopened to reviewed even though I haven’t gotten any calls or messages.

Depending on how I do throughout the night after skipping everything (been up 8 hours and feel fine so far), I may message her again and let her know that I’ve definitely had enough and have definitely made up my mind about scaling back to 50s for a while and that I’ll have my PCP look into hormone replacement therapy for me if the anxiety does continue or see if anything else could be wrong with me. I’ll also tell her that I’ll be happy to go to the lab as planned next month and see my PCP but wonder if there really is anything more she could do for me at the moment and so I don’t see the point in keeping our December appointment. I’ll tell her I appreciate her trying me on Liothyronine and won’t cancel our appointment until I hear back from her but at this point, I just don’t see what more she can really do for me.

No more motorcycles in the middle of the night since I last bitched about it but I don’t think whoever it is lives here either. It’s a hell of an odd time to be visiting so I’m guessing they might sleep during the day, work 2nd shift, and then visit late at night. I think if they lived here I would hear the fucking thing multiple times a day.

I’m kind of on a nut diet of sorts. Since nuts are healthy and rich in protein, which helps curb hunger, I’m snacking on those as opposed to sugary treats. Yesterday I had a meal at the beginning of my day, snacked on nuts all day, then at the end of the day, I realized I wasn’t hungry for the second meal I planned to have. I did, however, make and finish the rest of my chicken wings before they could go bad, and also treated myself to some candy when we ran out to Walgreens to get more nuts as I was already anxious anyway. Yet I still woke up down a pound.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2018 I’ll do almost anything for a friend but I was glad when Aly said she was getting as sick of scammers as I am. I would rather just block them than cart my journal entries off with them for her to do as she pleases. This way I also have the luxury and comfort of using Google Docs while lounging in bed. Before I would need both my phone and laptop which would be more convenient sitting at a desk or table.

Still going to share my journal with her. The only difference is that she’s going to get unedited and private stuff as well because she’s my bestie. I think that next to Tom, she now knows me better than even Andy and Tammy did despite not knowing her for nearly as long and this is mostly because she’s intelligent and able to retain what she learns. I know they couldn’t always help their memory issues. They may have been selfish and not always cared to listen very well, but the pot really did screw with Andy’s brain, and Tammy’s illnesses screwed with hers. I know what it’s like to have memory issues, though, cuz ever since my thyroid crashed I’ve been having issues as well. Memory is definitely not what it used to be, though sometimes it still seems like it’s better than average.

Got my tracking code embedded in the email with my journal entry, so if she doesn’t show up on my visitor list, she either lied about not hiding or her browser is automatically hiding her and she doesn’t realize it.

Still going to share some things on my main PB account, but will share on my other account stuff I don’t share there unless it’s totally private.

I don’t remember how I stumbled upon MyLife but I was both intrigued and disturbed by what I saw. Oh, I was getting my Bing points and randomly decided to search our names. A lot of the information isn’t correct or up-to-date but much of it was and I have mixed emotions about sites like this. We laughed at how it listed Tom as Christian. His family is Christian but we’re both pretty non-religious and politically we’re independent. He does believe there probably is some type of God and afterlife but doesn’t know exactly what it is. Otherwise, his attitude is like mine. To each their own as long as no one’s being harmed.

I can totally see where employers would want to look up the backgrounds of potential employees but I still don’t know if certain information should be thrown out there without the person’s permission, like their income, religious and political preferences, etc. Is it really necessary? Is it really anyone’s business? And how/why is it legal? If I put such info in my blog, I stand a chance of being sued. But it’s perfectly okay for them?

They almost got our income right but sometimes it’s a little higher. It knows he’s in Cali but it still thinks I’m in Arizona.

Naturally, I looked up people I’ve known like family members and past and current neighbors. I don’t get why it didn’t list Andy as a registered sex offender when I know he is. You have to pay to get nitty-gritty details but I’ve never bothered to do this because I’ve never been that curious about anyone and I’m not an employer looking to hire someone or a landlord looking to rent space to anyone. There are three groups of legal issues and it says you have issues in such and such a group if you do. Apparently, it doesn’t matter if you were vindicated like I was because I was flagged as having arrest and court records. The Twenties have had legal issues as well. Liens or lawsuits of some kind. It kind of sucks that even if you were vindicated of something the record is still out there in the first place, thanks to the race-card-playing black assholes that make the few good blacks look bad. I learned a long time ago that if so many people are for or against something or someone it’s usually for a reason. The only difference is that most people in most of the country have become supportive of blacks because it’s politically correct to do so and people are more concerned with making sure they fall into social norms than doing what’s right. If it suddenly became politically correct to favor or support child molesters, that’s what most people would do. Either way, the black people that screwed me are far from a rare breed and it’s sad that they have to ruin it for good people like my buddy’s boyfriend.

So I ran our lovely former neighbors and sure enough, they have everything flagged except sex crimes. I can just imagine how many people they’ve race carded that have pissed them off or crossed them in some way or at least some way that they perceive without a care in the world as to the potentially devastating and lasting effects because they know they’re living in a place and a time when they can do it and get away with it.

Anyway, enough of them. It listed Andy and Maliheh as being in the 10k-19k income range and that sounds about right. Maliheh never made much teaching guitar and Andy’s janitorial service didn’t make much either. That’s why he was canning on the side. I wonder if he’s still, at age 56, out in sub-zero temps in the middle of the night gathering cans and bottles. Poor guy! He may be an asshole in a lot of ways but what a shitty life. And always dreaming of the much younger hot man he’ll never have. :(

Tom thinks his mother died years ago and that they just don’t list every single obituary online. I find this hard to believe but anything is possible. If Marjorie is still alive, though, she would likely be broke and living in a nursing home by now since she’d be 95 years old.

Definitely not getting my hopes up since I still believe that if I were meant to find the ‘off’ switch to my anxiety, I would have found it by now, but nuts seem to help when I get a little on edge. I noticed this last night when I would get anxious and then grab a handful of mixed nuts. Almonds are listed as one of the feel-good foods for anxiety. The mix also has cashews, peanuts, pecans and hazelnuts. Fortunately, my allergies have always been restricted to dander, dust, dust mites, mold, pollen and things like that and not food. So I can get as “nutty” as I want. So many things seem to work at first, though, so it’s probably just a coincidence.

Overall it was a pretty good weekend even though I slept through most of it. He fixed the second bathroom’s sink. The stem in the drain was so corroded that it would cause the sink to back up. With the 3D printer, he’s going to print a new handle for the shower stall in there which broke. Since I don’t use the tub we took a handle from there for now. Really wish we’d upgraded the showers and the windows years ago!

I got a good story idea but I’m not sure if I have the patience to write it. I was thinking of having this woman be in prison for murdering her husband or boyfriend even though it was really self-defense. The warden likes her and she likes her back. The warden lives on the prison property and smuggles her into her home. But the warden turns out to be a real psycho with all kinds of kinky, crazy sexual demands and has a really controlling, dominating and abusive personality. Not wanting to stay with her or return to prison, the inmate escapes, somehow gets set up and makes a living as a cam girl, and eventually the warden finds her. I could end the story with her killing the warden or something like that.

Amazingly, it looks like we’re definitely on for rain in the middle of the week which should greatly help with what are the worst wildfires in the state of California, killing about 70 people. It’s so sad and so scary, too. Who knows how much longer we’re going to see and feel the smoky effects of it, although it could be a lot worse.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2018 I want to be a cam girl. I do. But I don’t. Wish there was a way to do it minus the sexual aspect for those who just want to chat.

I’m psychic in the wrong way. I need to be psychic enough to know when I’m not going to be pestered with notifications on my phone so I can use Google Docs in peace. I turned most of my notifications off but some of them I’d really rather not disable.

Returned to Amberen but probably going to take it every other day.

Sometimes I’m a bit congested and sneezy due to the smoke from the wildfires. It was clear earlier but as we were out we noticed the smoke had rolled in. Wind must have shifted in our direction.

So why am I seeing people’s birthday wishes to others in my Facebook feed? And friends’ comments on things their friends posted to their walls? What does any of this have to do with me???

Ran out to Walgreens last night and got a few treats and then we went to Rite Aid tonight. Got some bright orange nail polish that doesn’t look that great on me since I seem to look better in darker nail polish. Stands out better against my pale skin.

As we were leaving Rite Aid I got a bad feeling and told Tom to hurry up. I don’t know why but it’s like there was a charge of negative energy in the air all of a sudden. I didn’t exactly see anything suspicious or bad happening but I’ll catch the local headlines as I always do when I’m getting my Bing points and see if anything pops out at me.

Research definitely shows that exercising when feeling anxious (as long as your heart isn’t racing) can help ease anxiety. I felt slightly wound up yesterday and did a little jogging on the treadmill and it seemed to help. So did getting out of the house. Makes me wonder, since I’ve always suspected there could be more than just one factor if there still could be something in the house causing me to feel anxious at times. I’ve never gotten the impression that it’s haunted and I’m not sure I even believe in that but maybe there’s some kind of negative energy in the house that’s affecting me. Why it would affect me and not him, I don’t know.

Even though we’re supposed to be saving money now, our first-generation Echo that’s in the kitchen and living area is having issues so we were thinking of replacing it with a $50 Dot. It sucks how things become obsolete so fast these days. My $1,100 laptop is getting old even though it’s not as I got it in 2015.

At least I got to have fun and interesting dreams for once. Andy was in one of them and I guess I was either staying with him or living with him though we had to have been in this area because he needed an endo for some reason and I recommended mine. We both needed an appointment so I told him I would try to schedule back-to-back appointments. Then I looked at him and said that at least he wouldn’t have to give me or ride and he cracked up with laughter like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Then I had a dream that Tom and I were in some place that looked like Jesse’s trailer but maybe bigger. My hair was a little below my waist and straight. We were running around playfully and he was chasing me. Then we both collapsed on the floor with me behind him. My chest was pressed against his back and I said, can you feel my heartbeat? It was pounding but in a good way.

Then he said something about wearing some kind of belt when he went out on his walk. I asked him when he was going out walking and he gave some senseless time like 1 and 1000 or something like that.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2018 Last night ended up being a pretty shitty night. I have both anxiety and depression. I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m starting to doubt it’s the medication itself otherwise why would I have gone 10 days as I did from the 3rd to the 13th without anxiety? Now I’m thinking more in terms of my female hormones. And suicide in January after the holidays. I am seriously looking forward to life less and less. I feel like I have so much more negative than positive in so many ways. If it weren’t for Tom I would have killed myself ages ago but I know it will hurt him. But sometimes there comes a point when you have to think of yourself. I also know he would be able to move on. The question is whether or not I can get up the guts to actually follow through with it. It would be different if he was terminally ill but this isn’t a case of that. This is a case of me suffering and while that’s plenty bad enough and I definitely don’t want to get older to acquire more problems and also to have to deal with the same ongoing issues even longer, I still don’t know if I’m brave enough to end it all under these circumstances.

I looked up bipolar disorder and I don’t have any of the four different bipolar disorders. I research symptoms of several mental disorders and I just don’t have them. I still find it hard to believe that there isn’t a reason behind this. People just don’t up and acquire anxiety disorders this late in life for no reason, do they? Right at this moment, I’m leaning towards lady hormones and the sugar I had for a couple of days there. Never again will I get large candy bars! I just can’t eat like I used to. I really need to keep my sugar, sodium and cholesterol intake as low as I comfortably can.

If I could suddenly magically know that this will taper off in a year or so, I could tough it out and I could live with that. But I can’t know that. This could go on for several more years or it could be mine for life just like the extra weight and the farsightedness along with Hashimoto’s and other things. Like I said a while back, sometimes things change and they stay that way.

I’m also thinking once again of ghosting my main PB account because I feel the need to write for me and me only. This way I don’t have to filter as much and edit things. Yes, I would miss my regulars and seeing the usual people on my visitor list but I think at this point there would be more pros to writing privately as opposed to for others in addition. First of all, that so-called “valuable information” people have given me has apparently turned out to be worthless, and as I said, I like to write uncensored and without judgment. I’m not going to ghost those I’m closest to and connected to on Facebook. I’ll still keep in touch with them there. I thought about doing an entry with an explanation but then I said nah, let someone care enough to wonder what happened to me and try to get in touch with me for once rather than tell them what’s going on. Do I really owe anyone any explanations anyway?

There are actually a few things I could do. I could use my main account for writing prompts only so I can still remain in touch with my regulars, write privately there, but share things on my story account where I don’t allow for comments and only a few people, if anyone at all, should know who I am. Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. Why didn’t I think of that sooner!

Back to the shit going on with me. So I got anxious late in my day yesterday which morphed into frustration which morphed into depression. I felt better once Tom got up and I vented to him. Words can’t express how appreciative I am of him for encouraging me to continue to vent rather than hold it in. It’s just that when it gets me when I’m alone it’s easy to keep things bottled up. Besides, I always feel like I’m burdening him and bringing him down by crying on his shoulder so much so I admit I did try to choke it back a bit for a while there. So I would definitely do things differently if I were starting over. I’d also have just 2 email addies. One for signing up for things and the other for friends or for signing up for things like the patient portal.

I got up today and was worried I would be in for a shitty day since these spells are rarely brief, but surprisingly enough, after I got up and got going, I felt much better. So maybe the Liothyronine will if not make me a hundred percent perfect, it will make me less anxious less often. Tom still believes it will go away one day but not just like that. It won’t turn itself off like a switch but gradually taper off. But unless my body is doing something in particular that’s causing the meds to make me this way, I’m now starting to doubt the meds. Don’t get me wrong. Jumping to 88 micrograms would definitely cause severe anxiety attacks. But that included a booming racing heart. This is different. It’s a different kind of horrible and when I’m going through this nightmare I’m finding that I want to just beat my head in the wall and I literally have to exercise self-restraint to keep myself from doing something stupid. I don’t want to hurt myself. If I’m going to do anything to myself I want to kill myself as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Not fuck myself up and give myself more problems and suffering.

These words are a little too intense to share publicly from my bogus account so I’ll keep this strictly private. Well, as private as the Internet can possibly be. The site owners may be reading private stuff but so be it. I just really like the idea of dropping most of what I write on the public in a way that they can see it but not say anything about it. I’m tired of the “advice” and feeling like I have to stifle certain topics that are more controversial simply because others may disagree with me.

Anyway, Tom and I are going to be going out to the drugstore later. He’s getting some sleep first. He crashed after I showered and started the laundry.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2018 Tom soldered the electrical parts on the musical dollhouse kit. Time to start putting the final pieces together and be done with this long, tedious and very difficult project!

Made a red tube dress out of a red balloon for Dasha, my other porn star action figure.

They’re finally handing out masks at work due to the smoke as they should’ve done a week ago.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I thought to myself last night at 12:30. I thought we were done with the motorcycles tearing through here in the middle of the night for a few months. It was 42° out! It sucks that I’m the only one bothered by this shit too, and that no one complains. I’m kind of tempted to do so, though I know it wouldn’t do me any good. It’s frustrating to live in a park that so obviously doesn’t give a shit about its residents. They could do something about the motorcycles but they choose not to so that’s why I haven’t complained. I know they won’t do anything. Part of me wants to confront whoever it is but I know that they too, won’t give a shit. Life has changed and so have adult communities. I have mixed emotions about never being able to go back 30 years or so. 30 years or so things were much quieter and there were fewer people, but technology sure did suck. There’s no going back though of course, so no matter where we live, it’s always going to be noisy. And if it starts off not being too bad, things will change. They always do.

My new noise-canceling headphones help but they’re heavy and clunky. I think at night I’ll just run air cleaners to drown out sound and save those for daytime noise which is louder with the exception of motorcycles, of course.

Tonight hasn’t been too bad thanks to having the air cleaner running on my desk and maybe the direction of the wind, but sometimes I’ll hear a plane or a big rig on the freeway. What I don’t get is the constant steady stream of traffic on the freeway that goes on and on all night long. We’ve been out in the middle of the night and there are way fewer vehicles on the road at 3 AM. So where is all this traffic coming from when I’m home at night?

Sometimes living with constant noise both day and night really wears me down. Even in the noisiest of places I’ve lived in in the past, I at least got peace at night for the most part. Also, many of the things I hear at this place, I didn’t hear there. Here there are so many different sources of noise and rarely do I get a pocket of silence where I get to hear nothing at all. I’m constantly forced to listen to noise. I’m forced to literally make noise in order to drown out noise by having to sleep with earbuds hissing white noise since my noise is still preferable to other people’s noise if I have to listen to noise at all. There’s always, always something. The only things we don’t get here are screaming kids and barking dogs, though I do hear car stereos on and off from the freeway. Those are worse in warmer weather. It’s 40° right now. We may get some rain over Thanksgiving. We need it!

Started to feel a little on edge yesterday, maybe due to the extra sugar I had. Today, although it’s just barely, I’m borderline anxious so I took a second magnesium capsule to see how it affects me. Two is the recommended dose anyway. If my anxiety escalates in the coming days and I’m still getting light-headed, I’ll probably drop the magnesium and return to Amberen. Really hope to hell this doesn’t happen! If it does then there’s either something about the medication no matter what the dose, menopause, something we don’t know about, or just the way I am as an older person, in which case all I can do is just learn to live with it and enjoy whatever days I can get off from it. I think I’m a touch down now with cabin fever, too. I need something different to throw into the mix of good things I’ve got going for me every now and then but I don’t know what that should be. Even if I did drive, where would I go? Where would I go right now by myself at 11 PM?

Wish I would stop getting all these backaches, too. I’m not sure what’s causing them but I’m making a point of working my core more often. Could be my mattress which is starting to sag a bit. Coil mattresses are definitely not the way to go. Being older and fatter I don’t trust that I wouldn’t get backaches on waterbeds, so I’m definitely going to get a good airbed one of these days, similar to what we had in Arizona. For now, I will go to bed on my saggy coil at around 7 AM and hope that the garbage trucks I never had to worry about waking me up in the past don’t wake me up…even with the earbuds. :-(

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2018 I’m trapped in the bedroom now by a robot, LOL. Yeah, Roomba’s vacuuming the living room so I’m in the bedroom while I’m doing this entry on Google Docs.

Walmart delivered groceries today and they included a surprise goodie bag. One item was a fruity Matchbox car. They have a series of Matchbox cars with their logo on them and a piece of fruit on the roof. This one was an orange.

There were also small travel-size bottles of lavender-scented shampoo and conditioner, plus a few snacks.

Really worried about the way Tom overeats to the point that he feels nauseous. He does this at least once a week. I overeat at times too, but rarely to the point that I feel sick. I may get heartburn from greasy stuff but not nauseous unless I have a tummy bug or a mild case of food poisoning like I think I recently had. I still feel faint cramps in my upper tummy but it’s definitely better. I just wish he wouldn’t stuff himself with so much crappy food! He lives on salt, sugar and grease. I’m amazed his only health problem is high blood pressure. Seriously, I eat healthier than he does, and am less overweight, yet I have a handful of problems. Better me than him but I don’t want this shit to catch up to him eventually and make up for lost time!

With our Walmart order, I got a bag of cheap balloons and let Tom wonder what I was going to do with them for a while. LOL. Well, I saw a hack on YouTube about - OMFG, why is it always when I go to use Google Docs that people have to distract and annoy me by butting in with their fucking comments, messages, etc! Some of them I can turn off but others I can’t figure out how to disable and I get banners popping up top with their messages and it really annoys the hell out of me at times. As I was saying, I saw someone cut out the tip of a balloon and stretch it over an old Barbie to make a tube dress. When I took out a pink balloon to make one for my 7-inch porn star doll, Julie Meadows, since I don’t really like dolls that are completely naked, I realized there was no way I was going to be able to stretch it over her body. But then I cut the tip off the balloon, which is the tightest part of it, and was then able to make her a little pink mini skirt. Then I took a blue balloon, since I didn’t have a purple one, and snipped a piece to serve as a strapless halter. It looks way cool!

Tomorrow he’s going to solder the wires to the rotating musical base of the dollhouse and then I should finally be able to finish it little by little. Definitely never getting one of these kits again although it would have been done a long time ago had I gotten just a single room and not an entire house.

If the dream I had meant anything, then I now know the month we’re going to move but not the year. In the dream, I suddenly started exclaiming to Tom, “OMG, OMG, OMG!” Then I told him I knew we would be moving in September. Only in the dream that was just a few months away and I was talking about the next September for sure.

All I remember for other dreams isn’t quite enough to make sense of… Swimming in a pool with some people and looking down at a rusty drain on the bottom… My mother alive and appearing to have side effects from some medication that made her eyes teary and me telling her to report the side effects on the patient portal.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2018 Okay, Kim and Aly. I’m using Google Docs now so go ahead and annoy me with texts. I could turn off Aly but I can’t find a way to turn off Kim. I can disable the notification sound but I can’t stop the little banner showing the start of her texts from popping up and annoying the hell out of me.

Anyway, until they distract me, this is the second day in a row that I’m kind of tired and I wonder if that too, could be from stopping the Amberen but it’s more than likely because I didn’t sleep as well last night. All last night I had horrible upper stomach cramps coming and going in waves and I wonder if something was wrong with the banana I had. I also had it the day before. Had a banana that day too, so I dumped the rest.

It could also be that I’ve been eating way too many vegetables and all that fiber is getting to me. If that’s the case, how do vegans stand to be vegan? I just hope it’s not the magnesium and I really hope it’s not the Liothyronine. I think it’s likely a mild case of food poisoning and too much fiber. That’s okay because I just went and ordered everything I’m not supposed to eat, LOL. I realized it’s kind of ridiculous to kick out the cholesterol so far in advance of labs, anyway. Of course it would be healthier for me to do that regardless but we don’t always do what’s best for us in the first place, do we? I think that just a couple of weeks before labs should be plenty of time enough to lower my cholesterol levels.

Yesterday I had nausea and I wondered if I was going to end up puking and having the runs but I didn’t. Rolaids helps a little with heartburn but not with that. I remember this from when I had a really bad case of food poisoning and how worthless they were. But I had to try something. I found that when I finally had a couple of slices of bread that helped a bit more. Hopefully, it won’t get as bad as last night. I spent most of yesterday in bed so I didn’t get much done. Really hope tomorrow I have my energy back, too. Still get light-headed until I take my vitamins and magnesium.

Anyway, I don’t know if I hot flashed or if I was just too bundled up but I started to overheat in my sleep and my heart started to pound a bit so I got up at 7am, a few hours after crashing. I Skyped Tom while in the bathroom after I peed (I usually keep the phone on the bathroom counter) telling him that I really hoped I could get back to sleep otherwise my schedule would be screwed. He replied right away saying I would be fine, and then I downed a tiny sip of baby Benadryl. Just as I was knocking off without reinserting the earbud in my good ear, some loud car, probably the fucking Subaru, woke me up. So I shoved that back in my ear and slept till 2. Now I worry my schedule is pushing ahead too fast but as Tom reminded me, it will go back and forth until my appointments and I’ll be okay. 33 days to go as of midnight! Then hopefully I won’t have any more appointments until my March dental check-up.

I hadn’t even been up 9 minutes when I already heard 4-5 planes and that loud car. Really don’t like this car coming around more often again. I always worry they’re going to move back in. The last thing I want to do is go from hearing it 2-4 times a day to 6-8 times a day.

The planes are definitely the worst they’ve ever been since we’ve lived here. For a few hours, there were dozens of them. Just one after another and I’m like stop it already! Just stop. Now I only hear the freeway. I’m sure the planes will pick up again at some point. We can’t even go one fucking hour without hearing at least one or two. This worries me because if they can suddenly be flying this close, they can get even closer and to the point that the vibration can be felt in the house. No way I could sleep through that any more than I could the sonic booms in Maricopa. I was thinking of calling the airport and trying to find out what’s going on just out of curiosity.

Tried again to order the Jack Russell Terrier statue and again they canceled the order. For a minute I wondered if these people thought they had some kind of personal vendetta against me but obviously, they’re out of stock and the idiots don’t know how to take down the offer for the damn thing. It would have been nice if they had the decency to message me about it, too.

I showed Ask a screenshot of the annoying videos running on my profile that really slow me down when I use the laptop and they said they would forward it to their developer to check into. Were they not aware of these videos or something?

It’s been so cold here. Especially at night. I wish I could jump into the fish tank so I could be in a 77° space instead of a 72° space. It’s amazing how much 5° can really make a difference. I get cold easily and I’m definitely more comfortable in a room closer to 80° rather than 70°. I’m always bundled up and sipping hot drinks which really sucks. I hate long sleeves, too. I’m a sundress or tank top and shorts kind of person. Bare feet with bright nail polish and shiny toe rings are also preferable to socks and slippers.

Every now and then I will have a particularly unpleasant memory pop into mind at random. Last night it was jumping out the window at Valleyhead. Sometimes I imagine different possible outcomes. Imagine the guilt my mother would have felt if I’d tried again and succeeded while I was still there. Oh, she would have put plenty of the blame on me and the staff but I can’t believe she wouldn’t have felt some guilt. When life is at its roughest I sometimes wish I’d done just that not just to spare myself from so much grief in life but just so she could suffer the guilt. That fucking bitch felt guilty for all the wrong reasons. The only time I remember her really expressing any real guilt was over my ear, something out of her control. It may have been from her smoking since smoking does cause birth defects but I don’t know if they were as aware of that back in the 60s. It’s what she could have controlled that she should have felt guilty about. Really, if there is a heaven and a hell I hope she’s suffering in every way imaginable in hell. If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I hope she’s some poor Iranian girl getting the shit kicked out of her before she grows into a woman that is abused in all the usual ways a woman is abused and then some!

Sometimes I wish I could start over again and not be known by anyone in cyberspace. I would still want to know Aly and those I’m connected to on Facebook for the most part but I would love to automatically be a stranger to everyone on Prosebox because then I could share more freely and disallow comments. This way I wouldn’t have to deal with the kinds of comments that saying I sometimes wish I’d committed suicide would certainly generate. But I would feel guilty if I suddenly ghosted my friends there, and as a few people have taught me, you never know what valuable info you may be given. Otherwise, if it weren’t for that, I could just go private for a few years and give people time to forget me. Then I could return with a new name and not allow comments.

I think another reason I’m holding off on giving the drama queen and her brood a piece of my mind is that there is a tiny part of me left that hesitates to let go of what remaining family I have, even if biology is just biology. It’s not what truly makes someone “family.” It will be interesting to see if any of them remember my birthday but I have a feeling I already know the answer to that.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2018 Why is it that I’m either able to think of more than one title for an entry and have to decide which one to choose, or I just can’t think of a single title at all?

I never want to sing anymore, I never have crushes anymore, I never get horny anymore… I feel like so much of what made me the person I am is slipping away. I’m just grateful that I’m calm right now. Enjoying the freedom from the anxiety while it lasts.

And when will I die? I still wonder about this more than I should. Will I die of a heart attack or a stroke before he dies? Will I get cancer before he dies? Will we kill ourselves together because we’ll learn he’s terminally ill? Will I have to kill myself alone because he died unexpectedly?

Definitely getting more light-headed more often since stopping the Amberen and while I highly doubt it was responsible for my anxiety, I do want to hold off a bit longer and see if it will either go away on its own or I’ll get used to it. I do feel better after I’ve taken my multivitamin, vitamin D, and magnesium but I can’t do that until 4 hours after the Levothyroxine.

Another thing I’m trying to figure out that sucks is when the best time to go to the lab would be. The problem is that in order to get my schedule to line up with appointments, it’s off for labs. So I’m either going to have to go further in advance and hope the order is in that soon or cut it close. I think Tom’s probably right about Dr. A’s lab order being available after the 1st. Therefore, we should probably go earlier rather than cut it close and go on Saturday as that would be just two days before the appts. Would really be nice if the appts. were on a Wednesday! It wouldn’t matter with Dr. A so much if my results weren’t available when I saw her but it would be pretty pointless to go to Dr. O without any results. Why don’t these assholes send a notification not only reminding us to go to the lab but so we know exactly when the order is ready?

When Eileen, Kim from MA, and Sandra from TN, all fail to remember my birthday on Facebook as I’m pretty sure they will, I’m definitely going to delete them. I’ll make an exception for neighbors as Tom said he would, but I really don’t care to have deadbeat Facebookers on my friend list. I don’t know why I’m so picky about that but I am. If you’re not going to interact with me at least sometimes, then I don’t see the point in being connected there.

This may sound funny but I’m actually finding it rather therapeutic to write letters to those who have pissed me off that I know I’m never going to send. It’s different than writing about shit they’ve caused after the fact in my journal as opposed to speaking directly to them even if they’ll never see it.

But maybe Tammy and her brats can see some things. I’m still going back and forth in my mind between coming fully clean with these selfish liars on things. Things I’ve been kind enough to keep to myself for so long that I sometimes long to tell them. Well, once I see that my sister was full of shit about dying, I just may do that. I’ve held back, not wanting to hurt their feelings but since they haven’t shown a damn bit of regard for mine, why should I care about theirs? Again, biology is no ticket to being able to bullshit me and get away with it. Or the other shit they’ve done. You don’t get to do that no matter who you are without losing me and I’d say I’ve caught the bitch in enough lies. There’s no reasoning with these people either. They’re just so stupid and stubborn that there’s simply no getting through to them. These are the kinds of people that see only their side of things and that’s it. So yeah, I just might wait a while and basically play it by ear, so to speak, and go by how I feel day by day, and then share some things with them. I know they’re very fragile, emotional, vindictive and aggressive people but I don’t care. Maybe I should wait till we move, though, since Tammy may run to the piggies, but that didn’t stop her from finding me when we left Phoenix. Besides, I truly did threaten Bill both verbally and in print back then. This is totally different and without the slightest threat involved. I don’t want to kill them. I don’t want to beat them up. I don’t want bad things to befall them. I just want to vent and tell them how I really feel…even if they still won’t get it, believe it, or want to hear it.

The rats look so bad I’m amazed they’re still alive. Poor Simon is withering away and very weak and worn out. It’s a real struggle for him to get around. Dumbo drags his back leg like it doesn’t work anymore and I’m not sure why. He’s not exhibiting other signs of having had a stroke but I don’t know. They certainly can’t have much longer to go, though.

Was thinking about the question I was asked on Ask about what color my nails were at the moment which I was so sure was from Aly. I was surprised when she told me it wasn’t. If this is true, it makes me wonder if there’s someone else hanging around there that knows me. It just seems like the person who asked it knows I polish my nails regularly. Doesn’t seem like the type of question Andy would ask and Tatiana, who I haven’t heard from in ages, usually addresses me in German.

Speaking of that ugly language, it may be ugly, but it was a hell of a cool feeling to be able to translate for one of my Austrian friends (Elisabeth’s brother Siegfried) on Facebook the other day without having to look anything up. The effects of Nane still live on, LOL.

Earlier I was telling Tom that I really wish he hadn’t stuck pieces of velcro tape on the paneling above the front living room windows now that we know it won’t hold the big screen he wants to use with the projector since trying to remove them would damage the paneling. But then he went and got a blow dryer, and to my surprise, after he heated the adhesive, he was able to pull them off without damaging that fucking old-fashioned paneling I hate so much. I don’t care much about this house because we won’t be here forever but I still care somewhat and don’t want it to look shitty either.

I had a dream that he and I were living in a two-story house with a garage. I was upstairs in one of the bedrooms that I’d made into an office of sorts. It was nighttime and the house was dimly lit.

There was a pair of panties hanging in the middle of the room and I decided they looked funny there so I yank them down and threw them aside.

I then realized it had been almost an hour since Tom Skyped me about leaving and that he should be home to start our one-week vacation. I began to worry a bit, and for some reason, I thought I should make the house as quiet as possible. I don’t know what it was I thought I should hear. Maybe his car approaching? So I turned things off upstairs and then ran downstairs and started turning fans off and things like that. When I did, I could hear a DJ or talk show host talking on some radio that had been left on too soft to hear over the fans and other things that had been running.

I glanced out the front window and thought I saw the tail lights of a car. I hoped that was his car pulling into the garage.

A split second later he was home and I was relieved. Some woman was with us and they were both teasing me and trying to brainwash me into believing it was only Thursday and not Friday. Therefore there was still one more day before vacation.

Then I got a little angry and Tom began to mock me about that and how I reacted in a similar manner when we were out having dinner with Marty, Ruth and some other people. Ruth had asked me some question regarding kids and I said, “I have no idea” in a snotty tone of voice.

Defensively, I said that she had kept asking the same question over and over again and that’s why I’d gotten irritated.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2018 I now have 16,234 Pins on Pinterest and my state is on fire! Wildfires in Malibu, wildfires up north, wildfires all over the state! :-( The northern fires are about 75 miles north of us and in the afternoons the sky takes on a goldish tint and the air is smoky. We’re staying indoors and have all the air cleaners running full blast.

Despite the smoky afternoon yesterday, some asshole was still content to sit outside gunning his fucking motorcycle. The planes rarely take a break, but Sundays are our day off from hearing much of the freeway so it’s nice to get a break from that. Believe it or not, I don’t think I heard any landscaping today which is highly unusual. The latest trend is that the commercial planes are at their worst in the early morning hours. It’s like they’ve replaced the smaller planes not that we don’t still hear those.

Went to Walmart yesterday morning before the smoke rolled in and picked up my prescriptions for both thyroid medications. Although I don’t want to get my hopes up too soon, it’s rather ironic that after reapplying the Return to Sender spell and gathering a bundle of bamboos in seven (that combination is supposed to aid with health), I start feeling much better. :-)

It’s also ironic that if by some miracle this was it, the anxiety lasted on and off for 4 years and 4 months. That number is so beyond unlucky! I highly doubt this is it, though. When has it ever been “it?”

I had a dream we were renting one of my childhood homes of all places (the one I lived in when I was older). In the dream, I was lying in bed one cold gloomy day reading a book. I was reading a paper book and worried that I was going through it too fast. Not sure if I didn’t have any other books to read or if money was tight.

In real life, one probably wouldn’t put a bed on the exterior wall I had the bed on not just due to the bitter cold winters but because of the way the chimney threw off the angle of that wall.

Tom was at work while I lay there reading. We rented the house because I felt cheated out of the time I could have lived in it when my mother gave me up in my teens, and I always liked that house a lot better than the first one. But then realized I was sick of the place and the climate and couldn’t wait to move on.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2018 Last night’s dreams were pretty weird. I was having dinner at someone’s place that I sensed was in a high-rise of some kind. There were at least half a dozen people, including kids. At one point I was admiring a vase of bamboos that was much bigger than anything I’d ever seen before. It looked slightly different as well and I hoped I would one day be able to grow mine as big.

Then I had this weird dream about watching a video where this robotic front-body massager would crawl on top of a person’s face as they lie on their back in a recliner, then crawl down their chest, down their legs, and then jump back up and repeat the process.

Got the fairy figurine yesterday that’s called Fishing for Riddles. I love Selina Fenech sculptures but I think she’s way overpriced. $50 is a bit much for something this small as lovely as she is. I don’t think it should be more than $20 or $30. So I won’t be collecting any more of her stuff at least for quite a while since we do need to start saving and get ahead once again after so many unexpected expenses have come up. He’s even low on days off. He only has 3 available days where he usually has a week or two.

The $30 cat and mouse, called Bits and Pieces, with a black cat on a tree stump gazing down at what actually looks like a squirrel with a rat’s tail (haha) at the base, is outstanding! Great size as well. It’s pretty big.

Disappointed not to get the Jack Russell but oh well. They never did tell me why they canceled the order or responded to my question about it. At this point, I wouldn’t want to do business with them anyway.

So now all we’re waiting on is the Smart thermostat and the beach shower curtain for the master bathroom.

Later…

Carolyn was telling someone that she moved to CH to be closer to her kids. A pang of both admiration and sadness overcame me to read this. How sweet that she wants to be close to her kids but how sad it was that my own mother was just the opposite. She couldn’t get far enough away from me and I could never be far enough away from her.

When I was living in Massachusetts in my early twenties, broke, single and on disability, I told my mother how I wanted to move to Florida like she and dad did because I hated the cold and snow as well. That was when she informed me that she didn’t want me living close to her.

I know. Pretty fucking insulting, huh? This was far from the only time she said such mean, cruel, hurtful and insulting things about not wanting me around. The family gatherings I was never invited to, the way she kept her phone number from me for a while, the way she gave me up to the state in my teens, the way she’d always ship me off to camp and various places in my preteens… The list goes on and on. So this wonderful statement was really nothing new from her, but being the kind, tolerant and forgiving person that I was back then, I put up with it and didn’t think much of it. If I was anything like I am now and have been for many years, I would have walked away for good and never looked back. Instead, I waited till my early 30s to stay away for a decade.

She was just one of those women who never liked or truly wanted kids. Even she admitted one day back in the '90s that if she and dad had to start all over she would’ve had one kid instead of three or perhaps none at all. But being in the '50s and '60s and the fact that being “normal” was so important to her and how she looked, she had three of us.

It’s no wonder she discouraged me several times from having kids although I assure you it was my choice in the end. I totally get where she knew that I loved life and living and that I valued my freedom and couldn’t have afforded children anyway when I was younger and all that, but I think deep down she just didn’t want to deal with any additional grandkids other than what she had from Larry and Tammy.

As time went on, she was one of the growing numbers of women who wanted to remind other women that there was more to life than just having kids and that a woman could be just as happy without them, and I was, but my decision had nothing to do with her. Skipping marriage and kids has become very common in the US, especially marriage, but if I was suddenly young all over again and I wanted kids, I would have them whether it was “in” or not.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2018 Got the new headphones and they work great! Comfy but a bit heavy and clunky. They’re a nice shade of blue. Their pink pair didn’t look pink at all. Even the green was nicer. That would have been my second choice. They make things significantly quieter but you can still hear things. If something went by that was really loud like a motorcycle, I’m going to hear it. The point is to lower the number of things that distracted me. I’d say it cuts down a good 70 to 80% of the general volume of things. Really wish I had these when I was living in apartments! No way I could sleep with the things, though, unless I was always lying on my back, which I wouldn’t be. So it’s great that I have them but a little sad that the world has come to this in the first place. Just way too many loud vehicles these days and way too much activity in the park. Again, even the seediest of places I’ve lived weren’t anything like this. It’s the craziest thing ever. I have the headphones paired with my laptop so I can run the soft hiss of white noise through them while they cancel most of the background noise out. Just the canceling part alone should be sufficient enough as long as no one was working on anything that was either really loud or close by.

The headphones came a day late, and for reasons no one has explained to me, they canceled the order for the Jack Russell Terrier statue. I’m kind of pissed because I was looking forward to that but for the last part of our fun spending, before we really discipline ourselves and start saving again, the fantasy fairy and cat and mouse statues will be here today. So will the new thermostat.

They don’t want anyone working overtime at work for the rest of the year because the company is broke, Tom said. Well, of course, they don’t. I’m feeling better and we need to save. If I was feeling like shit and we had plenty of money, we’d be back to the days of him being gone for 12 hours. It still pisses me off that he had to work that long while I was going through the worst years of my life back in 2014-2015.

When 70-year-old Polly in New Zealand said she would “bite her tongue” in regards to all the perfume I collect, it was a reminder that even the most innocent of things can be frowned upon and judged. She admits she can be rather preachy at times. I keep most of my purchases to myself because it’s no one’s business anyway, but I refuse to go away completely so I don’t have to hear shit about whatever. I don’t want to ghost my friends and I don’t want to chance missing out on what may be very valuable information like what I got about the Liothyronine, the magnesium supplements, and hopefully the raw apple cider vinegar, just because a few people may either not agree with something I say or they envy me.

I’m still stable and have been since the 3rd but I don’t want to get my hopes up and think this is it and we finally found the answer to getting rid of most if not all of my anxiety.

Since running my Word documents through Word’s own spelling and grammar checker to get things that Grammarly missed, I replaced the journals that I had scheduled to launch on my would-be 100th birthday. I just pulled the date up a decade because I’m almost certainly not going to make it to 80, let alone 90. If Tom makes it to his late 80s then maybe I’ll make it to my 80s but since he’s likely to go around 85, that puts me around 77. So my journals will begin publishing bit by bit on December 4, 2055.

Walked 50 minutes on the treadmill and was pretty sweaty afterward even though it was only 70° in here. From now on I should work out in shorter segments or be prepared to hit the shower afterward!

I had this dream that we were living in a small two-bedroom house with a basement. The dream was so clear that it’s one of those that makes me wonder about a possible glimpse into another dimension. I could see the layout of the place clearly. It was small, square and simple. My room and the living room on one side, his room and the kitchen on the other. Between the kitchen and his room was the door to the basement even though I never actually saw it in the dream. I just knew they were there, though.

We were hanging out in the living room when this squirrel came hopping in that we knew had been coming up from the basement and underneath the basement door. It was a friendly squirrel and it wanted to be sociable but I was a bit cautious around it until I could be sure it wouldn’t nip me.

Time seemed to suddenly jump in the dream and then it was nighttime. I was either going to bed or woke up to pee. I opened my bedroom door and saw the kitchen door was shut and automatically knew he shut it to keep the squirrel from possibly clawing at my door and waking me up should it decide to visit us again. I looked across from my door to his door and could see light glowing underneath so I figured he might still be awake and on his computer.

Then I had a dream that my parents were alive and I didn’t know Tom. They paid to send me to summer camp. I happened to be on a day schedule when I arrived, and although I was having loads of fun, I was really worried about how the hell I would manage to keep a schedule throughout the entire summer. Yet I had to be there. I don’t know why but I had no choice and simply couldn’t leave.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2018 Today makes 2 weeks on Liothyronine. So far so good. Still no way I’d count on the anxiety not returning, though. The past always has a way of coming back to haunt me. Always. HR gets a little racy at times at about 110 but doesn’t last long. The last time was in the hot shower so that makes sense

Glad the Dems regained control of the House. Not big on politics but I know it’s never good to have one group in control of everything.

My one last treat before we buckle down and save money for the better part of a year is a pair of noise-canceling headphones to wear around the house during the daytime. The world simply isn’t going to get any quieter. They were supposed to arrive yesterday but have been delayed.

I am still going to get my monthly perfume samples despite saving on other things. Got my Shalimar sample yesterday and am not sure if I like it. It reminds me of Emeraud with a weird twist.

Ran into Virginia yesterday. She asked if we were going on vacation soon and I told her that it would be delayed due to unexpected expenses. I asked if they were going on vacation anytime soon and she said they didn’t have any family left and I guess Bob doesn’t want to drive long distances. I think they feel they’re getting too old for traveling, understandably.

I love doing the things I do on a regular basis but sometimes I get sick of doing the same old fucking things every fucking day of my life. I would love to throw some variety in there but variety costs money. Usually, anyway. I kind of wish Kathleen would call and break up the monotony but I know damn well she won’t. I just don’t see what she gets out of blowing off my offers to get together in the past and then asking for a number she knows she’ll never call. I never could see the fun in that but people do it all the time, apparently even older people. So much for thinking this was mostly a young people thing.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2018 So after being thanked by Marie for the wolf pics I sent her since those are her fave animals, I’m randomly hit with how much she has too much self-respect to deal with lies and bullshit and that if I don't reply she'll just walk away.

What lies and bullshit was I supposedly hitting her with??? I don't understand this random paranoia.

Then she blocked me and I blocked her in return. Although it was her choice to walk, I’m glad she did. I’m so sick of and so over her senseless shit. Call me mean, call me cruel, call me whatever but I have ABSOLUTELY HAD IT with that girl’s drama and random mood swings that come out of the blue for no apparent reason after everything seemed fine with her and her life. I also got sick of her deleting and creating one bogus account after another. I know she’s crazy with a handful of psychiatric problems and diagnoses and can’t help the way she is but she’ll obviously never change. It seems no medication can change her either. The immaturity, the paranoia, the drama, the delusions… I’ve had enough! I will never seek her out again or acknowledge any future contact with her.

Later…

Today’s annoyance - so far as it’s only 8am - is Bob & Virginia having their carpet cleaned which takes about an hour. Can’t hear it as well in the bedroom, which I moved into. This is my daytime office anyway.

I really need to invest in some noise-canceling devices similar to what he uses! But say I don’t want to listen to music. Say I just want peace and fucking quiet. Are there any noise-canceling devices that will drown out outside racket without me having to replace that racket with music? I’m just tired of being forced to do this or do that in order to live in peace. I don’t want to be forced to listen to music if I don’t want to listen to it just because others can’t shut the fuck up. So what are my options?

I’m learning that living with those with money can be just as noisy as living with the poor. The poor think they need to be noisy simply because they’re poor which I don’t get any more than why a lesbian would want to look like the men she’s not attracted to. The problem with those with money is that they can afford loud services.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2018 Got a lot to catch up on that’s been going on over the weekend and most of it is good. That’s because it involves shopping, LOL. But it’s even better in that I haven’t had any anxiety over the weekend as well. Hoping it lasts but knowing it won’t. :( I’m sure tomorrow I’ll have my usual Monday morning anxiety as he heads off to work for the week.

It was very discouraging to read that you can have menopausal symptoms for 4-5 years after you’ve gone a year without a period. To think that I might have another half a decade of suffering from anxiety on and off makes me want to scream!

I’ve been a little more lightheaded since stopping the Amberen but as long as I stay calm I don’t want to return to the Amberen just in case it may have had a hand in my anxiety even though I don’t think it did. Better to be lightheaded than anxious.

He just left and I’m fine with it because he’s only going to pick up his blood pressure medication.

We discussed the insurance plan we’re going to switch to. It has the potential to save us money in the end, but we don’t know for sure yet.

After doing the math he realized it would cost the same for us to drop our eye insurance and just pay for it ourselves rather than have them deduct a little for that from his pay. This way we can go when we want and get new frames every year for variety. Before it was every other year that we could get new frames.

Yesterday we went to Sam’s Club and got some bulk items. One of the things I got was this colorful display of 12 different mini boxes of cocoa with two large sturdy white mugs with embossed snowflakes. The flavors are toffee, creme brulee, toasted marshmallow, chocolate truffle, candy cane, eggnog, caramel cream, cookies and cream, tiramisu, double chocolate, dark chocolate gingerbread, and sugar cookie.

At Sam’s, I got these awesome crab rangoons. I shouldn’t be having anything with cholesterol but it’s not that bad.

I also got several goodies coming today in the mail, including a few yoga figurines and a bronze ballerina.

He decided to order a smart thermostat which should be way cool, pardon the pun. Definitely like having a smart home! There are still a few things we could afford to “smarten” up, though, like the bedroom fan and air cleaner. The laundry room light, too.

Fucking Mojave disabled my hotkeys when I upgraded and so we thought something was wrong with them at first.

I’ve been paranoid about flossing my teeth after pulling off one of my crowns so I got my Waterpik set up again and I’m using that instead. It may not be as thorough as regular flossing since it doesn’t hit the contact areas but it’s better than nothing.

Yesterday we tightened my progressives at the hinge and also used the steamer to warm up the arms and bend them inward a bit. The lenses are still too tall but they are good for seeing long distances. Just not as good for reading and doing things close up but I have single-vision lenses on the way for that.

What else did we do yesterday? Oh, we shined up some crystals and our wedding bands in the ultrasonic cleaner. He cleaned his electric razor as well.

This morning we went to Walmart, grabbed a few groceries, and he replaced his broken shoelaces. They’re a little short so he’ll have to order a longer pair online.

I also got a horribly uncomfortable but awesome pair of Shoe Beatz for just five bucks. They’re silvery metallic high-tops with a built-in Bluetooth speaker. I paired it with my phone so I can play music through them. They’re just not very comfortable and I don’t like the bright blinking light either.

Even though we don’t really need a funnel I got a clear funnel with gold glitter in it that looks cool. I’m sure I’ll have a use for it at some point, though, and definitely the utility catcher we also got. Many times I’ll have a dirty utensil I don’t want to place right on the counter and wish I had one of these. I’m not sure of the proper name for it but it’s decorated with colorful dots and definitely something we could use.

Changed the rats’ cage. They’re SO old and definitely can’t get around well. We also replaced half the betta’s water. His ammonia test strips will arrive today.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2018 You only need to do 2 things to “qualify” for my friendship, so to speak, I told someone who asked about friendship on another site. Accept me as I am and be honest. Well, it’d be nice if you weren’t a criminal either. Then again, if those I’m closest to suddenly confessed to breaking the law, even in a serious way, I wouldn’t rat them out. But the answer to the question is still pretty simple…don’t lie to me and take me as I am. Bullshit me or try to change me into the friend you want or the person you think I should be and I’m gone. I have zero tolerance these days for that sort of thing. Things I would either put up with in the past or let people get away with after a verbal beatdown from me.

My sister recently lied about dying, even if she may feel like she’s dying at times. As I wrote in my journal about this… THINK before you speak! THINK just how much I mean to you and how important I am to have in your life because if I catch anyone in a lie from here on out, I won’t be around for you to either own up to the lie or try to lie your way out of that lie(s).

While I’m on this rant…another way to lose me is to falsely accuse ME of lying. My so-called former friend did just that many times from my circadian rhythm disorder to prank calling a cousin to being jealous over the same things he was jealous over. His excuse for it? Because so many people had lied to him in the past. Well, I’m sorry if you’re that insecure, have trust issues, and have been lied to a zillion times by people, but guess what? I’m not those people! So please don’t judge me by what others have done to you. Or assume something’s a lie because you don’t get it.

So yesterday Wyatt, Jessie’s son, finally responded to a message I sent a while back asking if Jessica was his mom since I couldn’t find her right away. He responded and also sent a friend request. I was a little surprised since I haven’t seen him since he was a baby and I didn’t think he would remember me but I accepted it and added him. Jessie and I have connected again as well. She’ll always be like family and definitely the best childhood friend I had. I never feel like there’s any time gap when we start chatting again after some time goes by between our communication.

She said they hope to move to the space coast section of Florida, east of Orlando at some point but it will depend on what they find when they go to look. She said she’s counting down the days till she no longer has to see snow and that they try to get down to Florida every year.

We may consider this area as well. As long as we couldn’t hear the blast off from home, we’d love to watch the rockets launch. Might be a bit cooler there as opposed to the southern part of the state but it can’t be like the winters here.

Yesterday they were supposed to turn the water off but they never did. Spoke to Bob briefly and he said we need some rain. Yes, we do but I’m beginning to wonder if it will ever rain here again. LOL Only a few days of rain in half a year. It’s like this place really is turning into a desert. Things sometimes have a way of making up for lost time, though, and it could really rain its ass off in December and January. I love the sound of the rain and how it keeps things quieter but it would be better for the roof if it didn’t rain while we were still here.

Not wanting to make my unedited journals/story accounts on my-diary public, I created a public account there for daily stuff because what I consider the best friend I ever had even though we haven’t met yet inspired me to do so. I’m not doing NaNo this year but Aly is and she’s going to share some excerpts there. I know that even if she won’t admit it, she prefers to hide. So this way if she wants to read edited copies of my journal she can do so in private.

It’s after 5:30 AM here, so it’s one plane after another for most of the day. Wish it’d rain! Don’t know if that would stop commercial flights, though, and they’re the main problem lately. Beats the daily landscaping games and loud traffic, though.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2018 So now my curiosity is settled and Tammy has once again proven to be the liar that she can be. Fucking bitch!

Norma said she’s in a great deal of pain and on a lot of pain meds. The surgical treatment they did for the pain has not worked and has caused more pain, so she’s hoping to get an epidural. Although I don’t doubt for a minute that she’s suffering that’s no reason to lie to someone about dying just because you’re pissed or you feel you’re not getting the kind of attention you want. Maybe some of her meds are messing with her mind but I still don’t like being bullshitted, and those who are a part of my life better ask themselves just how much I mean to them because from now on if I catch anyone lying to me, we’re done. Period. No and’s, if’s, buts, questions or forgiveness from me. I’m just gone. Poof!

She’s already had unsuccessful surgery for trying to ease the pain where they cut nerves. If it didn’t work before why would it work now? Nothing was said about sarcoidosis either but how fucking low can you go than to tell someone you’re dying even if you don’t do it bluntly. So I have seriously mixed emotions about this one. I’m sorry she’s in pain but there’s no excuse for lying to me. I can see where she may think she’s dying at times. I sure thought I was going to die a few times.

Back on with my life now and just worrying about myself. I have enough to deal with anyway. I may not be as unhealthy and I may not be the perfect person but I don’t go around hinting at being terminally ill either. No excuse for that. Just no excuse. No wonder her kids are nothing but narcissistic, emotional, bullshitting bitches. And fuck biology! You don’t get a pass for lying to me or treating me poorly in any way simply because we’re related.

The fucking early-morning commercial plane craze is driving me nuts! Not as bad as the street games but it’s still pretty annoying. Asked the Twenties a few days ago if they knew anything about it. Carolyn saw the message but never replied. Kinda rude if you ask me.

I had Marie do a sound check on Bubbly. She confirmed what I suspected; the ‘listen’ counter isn’t working. Maybe she’s a hider?

Had very mild traces of anxiety yesterday but earlier I was worse. I was sure I’d get even worse and that the waterworks and suicidal thoughts would follow. However, after chatting briefly with Tom, Aly, tapping and walking, my calm returned. What was amazing was that the anxiety turned off like a switch. Usually, it doesn’t come and go like the flick of a switch. It gradually builds up and gradually tapers off. But this time it simply stopped.

I’ve had 7 anxious days since Dr. O (so nearly half the time). Think I might need to quit meds for 6 months or so. May be the only way to rule them out if they’re not connected to the particular feeling I’ve had since 12/10/16.

I talked with Jessie this morning. Yes, it was me who initiated the chat. Would still like it if someone from my past or that I haven’t talked to in a while would reach out to me for once instead of the other way around, but I guess that’s just not the way it was meant to be. Jessie said she also takes Levothyroxine and is still in Springfield. She’s asked where we think we’ll end up in Florida because they’re planning to move there too. As I told her, we don’t know where yet. We may not even stay in this country.

Yoga Girl came yesterday and she’s a very realistic and lovely collectible.

My first attempt at making bath bombs was a bit of a bust because even though I measured precisely there wasn’t quite enough mixture to fill the mold so I ended up with two uneven halves of a bath bomb instead of a whole bath bomb, but it definitely fizzed in the tub. Not much of a bath person anyway so that’s okay.

The loud “utility” vehicle is actually one of those mini-busses that picks up older and or disabled people. The word Pride was written on it. So now they’re even making vehicles like that loud? I still don’t get it. If vehicles like that are so loud these days, I’m wondering if it’s become mandatory for some crazy reason. Does that mean our next car is going to sound almost like a semi? Just not understanding why we would make things louder when we have the technology to keep them at the volume our current car is. Ours is reasonable enough. People can hear them approaching on the streets but not indoors.

Not getting why I sometimes have to sleep so damn long. Last night I slept for a whopping 11 hours. Woke up a handful of times along the way, of course. Today I wouldn’t be surprised if I was up for 18 hours and only slept for 6.

Had yet another dream that I was in this strange jail. I don’t know what I was in for but I knew I was in for 4 months and would get out in March. I thought I should have Tom tell Bob and Virginia I was off visiting family, knowing they would be wondering where I was.

Instead of being in cells, we were sharing these rooms that had 2 regular beds in them that seemed like wide twin beds. There were 2 of us per bed. LOL

The staff members didn’t wear uniforms. Not sure if the inmates did but somehow I was able to tell who was a guard and who was an inmate. Not a single guard was attractive either. They mostly seemed to be older plump blondes with unkempt hair.

One of the guards confronted me about the way I seemed to be having sleep issues. I guess I was trying to shut myself in the room (there were 2 doors) and sleep when no one else was in it which probably meant I wasn’t working when I might’ve been mandated to be.

I told the guard, “I know it sounds crazy but you just clear your throat and I wake up, that’s how light of a sleeper I am.”

I went to bed that night really exhausted and woke up in the morning surprised to find someone sleeping beside me.

I said, “Wow. You slipped in next to me and I never woke up?”

The inmate nodded.

In another part of the dream, I was walking around the jail when I looked over a balcony of some kind and down into an inflated room. It was like the floor and walls were made of a plastic blow-up material. LOL.

Some girl was lying on her back, looked up at me and said, “Hi, Jodi. How are you doing?”

I told her I was hanging in there and then I was outside carrying a small square white pillow with me as a vehicle full of older men with scraggly beards maneuvered around me so they could park nearby.

[sharkchanic]

You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Crazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. –Check out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!

"poor bees-"

[profoundlyluckyfox]

He is here. I sense it.Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around.You're busted, box boy!I knew I heard something.So you can talk!I can talk. And now you'll start talking!Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier?I don't understand.I thought we were friends.The last thing we want to do is upset bees!You're too late! It's ours now!You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword!You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio!Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where!Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!Crazy person!What horrible thing has happened here?These faces, they never knew what hit them. And nowthey're on the road to nowhere!Just keep still.What? You're not dead?Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed?To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here.I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off!I'm going to Tacoma.And you?He really is dead.All right.Uh-oh!What is that?!Oh, no!A wiper! Triple blade!Triple blade?Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!Why does everything haveto be so doggone clean?!How much do you people need to see?!Open your eyes!Stick your head out the window!From NPR News in Washington,I'm Carl Kasell.But don't kill no more bugs!Bee!Moose blood guy!!You hear something?Like what?Like tiny screaming.Turn off the radio.Whassup, bee boy?Hey, Blood.Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see.Wow!I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours.Bees hang tight. We're all jammed in.It's a close community.Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own.What if you get in trouble?You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack!At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls.Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.You got to be kidding me!Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee!Hey, guys!Mooseblood!I knew I'd catch y'all down here.Did you bring your crazy straw?We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit.What is this place?A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead.They are pinheads!Pinhead.Check out the new smoker.Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000!Smoker?Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out.They make the honey, and we make the money."They make the honey, and we make the money"?Oh, my!What's going on? Are you OK?Yeah. It doesn't last too long.Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls?Our queen was moved here. We had no choice.This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen!What is this?Oh, no!There's hundreds of them!Bee honey.Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale!This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something.Oh, Barry, stop.Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor.Do these look like rumors?That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this?He's been talking to humans.What? Talking to humans?!He has a human girlfriend. And they make out!Make out? Barry!We do not.You wish you could.Whose side are you on?

if this gets 1k notes (it won't) i'll put away the 7 baskets of clean laundry that have been piling up on my bedroom floor for weeks and weeks. it's been 3 months. come on guys. 1k. or at least 500.

[marshallpupfan]

There's something I've been wanting to talk about for some time now, and due to the fact it's been crossing my mind more and more, I'm just going to get it out of my head. It involves Marshall, his role during season 9, the upcoming spinoff "Rubble & Crew", and why the franchises lately has been leaving me... frustrated.

This will be lengthy, so hit "Keep reading" if you want to see more.

It goes without being said that I am absolutely crazy about Marshall. It's why I created my Marshall Pup Fanatic accounts, why I continue buying his merchandise, and why I even purchased my own mascot costume to wear in parades and such (which hasn't worked out yet, but hopefully in due time). As I've said many times, Marshall is legit my #1 favorite character, and due to just how much I love him, I enjoyed giving back to the franchise by supporting it.

I just wish the cartoon, itself would do the same for Marshall. Nowadays... it really doesn't anymore.

I don't know why, but ever since season 7, it feels like things just got a lot worse for the Dalmatian. Dino Rescue and Moto Pups barely gave him anything, the first half of season 8 ignored him way too much (eight missions in a row... twice), and even the theatrical film stripped him of most of his personality and gave his wipeout, his biggest running gag, to someone else.

Understandably, I found all of this to be frustrating. It's always been my impression that Marshall's one of the more popular characters in PAW Patrol, due to how much he's featured on advertisements, the numerous amounts of merchandise he gets, and the fact that most fans, both young and old, really seem to love him. And yet, his treatment in the cartoon has been so poor. I really don't get it.

And for a while there, I thought there might've been a silver lining to it all; the spinoff. When we first learned about it and nobody had any idea who it'd focus on, I really thought it was going to be Marshall. No other pup was experiencing what I mentioned above, as even Zuma was appearing more during missions for a while there. I figured they were using Marshall less because they were saving up ideas to use for him in the spinoff! Why else restrict him so much? To me, it made sense! It HAD to be him!

Well, you know what happened with that. Rubble was chosen for the spinoff, and Marshall's treatment in the cartoon got worse and worse... just because.

I so badly wanted him to be the star of the spinoff. I felt he deserved it, especially after how the cartoon began treating him. It would've been a fine way to make up for it. As a fan who became a big supporter of both Marshall and PAW Patrol, I felt an odd sense of betrayal, as silly as that may sound.

I guess, if anything, I'm glad later portions of season 8 got better for Marshall after a while. The first Rescue Knights episode gave him so much focus, and I was happy to see him co-star in that Cat Pack short with Leo! Unfortunately, it was short-lived, as things quickly went back downhill for Marshall after that. Arguably, he's at his lowest point yet.

We're currently fifteen episodes into season 9, and his usage during missions has been so unimpressive. Typically, he's only called in to handle small tasks, he's often restricted to backup, he disappears quickly no matter what he's doing, and he's yet to receive much focus, such as Big Truck Pups refusing to call him in as a first responder. I fear Aqua Pups might do the same.

Furthermore, Marshall has yet to appear on a single season 9 title card. The only one of the main six, in fact. You'd think, out of the twenty-six we've seen so far, he'd appear on at least ONE...

I really don't understand why this is happening. It's almost as if Spin Master has turned their backs on Marshall... and as a result, I no longer enjoy the franchise like I once used to. Maybe it's wrong of me to watch PAW Patrol for just one character, but Marshall really did become that special to me. And to see Spin Master treat him like this... it frustrate me, and I'm starting to wonder just how much longer I want to continue supporting the franchise.

Seriously, why stay loyal at this point? Just so I can keep tuning in to see my favorite pup get the same poor treatment? It's clear that Spin Master is shifting their focus, their priorities on Chase, Skye and Rubble, and whatever plans they have up their sleeves doesn't seem to have much room for Marshall (Rocky and Zuma also fit into that, sadly). Do I really need to keep subjecting myself to constant disappointment, new episode after new episode after new episode?

To be fair, it wouldn't be so bad if missions actually gave Marshall something that allowed him to make a difference. Sadly, that's not happening, either. As I said, Marshall keeps getting restricted to small tasks, such as wrapping legs, parking his vehicle in front of sand sculptures, and harmlessly spraying robot cats. Compare that to Chase and Skye, who continuously get tasks that save lives. The difference is like night and day! And I know the cynical answer might be "well, maybe it's because he's clumsy", but that was never an issue in the earlier seasons. Pups Leave Marshall Home Alone, the Pup-Fu episodes, the Ultimate Fire Rescues, Ready Race Rescue... all fine examples of Marshall being quite skilled and competent.

And there's a reason I said later portions of season 8 got better for him. Remember the first Rescue Knights mission, where Marshall was the only pup to stay outside of the castle to stop Sparks the Dragon from attacking it, and then he later bravely leaped up on the beast's back to retrieve the stolen Dragon's Tooth from Claw? It was such a great episode, and a wonderful showing of the skills I've come to expect from Marshall! It was something I was so happy to see, and for a little while, it renewed my faith in the franchise! I was so desperately hoping it'd last... but then season 9 came along and flushed all of that right back down the drain.

It's as if we went from "Marshall is clumsy yet highly skilled" to "just let Marshall do something small, then get him out of there as fast as we can". Just what happened... and again, why?

I hate to say it, but I really don't know if any of this will ever get any better. Again, their priority seems to have shifted to Chase, Skye and Rubble, and I fear this is just how it's going to be for Marshall from now on. I don't know that for a fact, but it's a bad feeling I'm getting. And when I look at the upcoming season 9 episodes we know about so far, none of them seem like they'll change any of this for Marshall one bit.

Is this just how it's going to be for the rest of season 9? Is Season 10 going to continue this poor treatment for Marshall? And will the theatrical film sequel even attempt to restore his personality and give him his elevator wipeout? Truth be told, I'm just not optimistic...

I apologize for making this post so lengthy. For better or worse, it's clear I'm very passionate about Marshall, and all of this is something that frustrates me, especially since I can't seem to find a logical reason as to WHY it's happening. All I know is that, if this continues for too much longer, I may stop watching PAW Patrol. Hey, I still maintain that I'm just as crazy about Marshall as ever... but the franchise, itself? Not so much anymore.

If I do stop watching new episodes, that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon my accounts or anything. I honestly love posting daily pics of Marshall every day, and I plan on keeping that tradition up for as long as I can! Unfortunately, I can't promise I'll be as active as I used to be, such as posting updates on new episodes and talking about what goes on with the franchise and whatnot. I'll probably stop posting Weekly Wipeouts, too. I'm not at that point yet, however, and if I do decide on anything, I'll probably wait until the end of season 9.

For now, I'll continue watching, though only in the hope that things will finally get better for Marshall. I don't expect much, but... who knows, maybe they'll find a way to surprise me and renew my faith in the franchise once again? I hope so, anyway...

[everybodyscupoftea]

drunk in love

jj x reader

word count: 2136

warnings: lots of drinking and not really responsibly (some underage but mostly of age); cursing (as usual); weed and smoking

synopsis: a headcanon thing where jj is your long time drinking buddy but with feelings

a/n: please drink responsibly friends

The first time you met was at a house party thrown by one of your new coworkers freshman year. You’d heard of the infamous JJ and his wild tendencies, but you’d never seen them or even him in person.

That is until you were sitting on the couch with another girl you knew and he dropped into the empty spot next to you, promptly spilling his full beer all over your leg and the couch. He slurred out, “Oh fuck, my b,” more to the couch than you.

The second time you met JJ was when you were the only one brave enough to take on the cement mixer with him. Four shot glasses, two with Baileys and two with lime juice, sat on the counter in front you. The group of people standing in the kitchen counted you down and the two of you quickly shot both and started shaking your heads quickly, allowing them to mix.

JJ accidentally spilled some down his chin but you swallowed no problem, resulting in cheers erupting all over the kitchen. You heard one of your friends scream, “Noob!” at him while wrapping you in a victorious hug.

He held a hand out for you to shake, “I yield to the superior drinker.”

The third time you met him was when your flip-pong team wiped the floor with his. You shook your head at him as he pouted, “Absolute fucking amateurs.”

He scoffed, “Your ass got carried through that game.”

You couldn’t let that stand, so you pulled up your friend’s story showing you absolutely annihilating him in a flip cup matchup which led to his team having to drink. And what exactly was he supposed to say to that?

The fourth and final time you met JJ before finally becoming friends was at a tailgate. Your friend was dating one of his frat brothers, so the two of you often tailgated with them. Admittedly, your one weakness when it came to drinking competitions was shotgunning.

Naturally, when JJ saw you there, he challenged you immediately, and you had a point to prove. You’d let to lose to JJ and it couldn’t start now. Your friend knew you were bad, but handed you an unopened beer and squeezed your shoulder for luck.

You lost but barely. JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “Maybe next time, fucking amateur.” And you had to laugh at that.

“Hey I’ll get you one day and then you’ll never be able to beat me. I’ll be unstoppable.”

He shrugged, “In that case, you’re my new pong partner. John B who?”

From then on, anytime JJ got invited to a party or planned a night out, you were involved. Your favorite nights with JJ were when a group of you got together for bar-hopping downtown. One time in particular, about two years after meeting JJ for the first time, stuck out from all the others.

After a tailgate, you went back to your apartment to get dressed to go out instead of going to the football game. The plan was for JJ to come pick you up after the game to go back to the frat house to pregame before going downtown for the night, and you were excited.

It was dark by the time JJ pulled up and most of your closet was on the floor due to indecisiveness of what to wear. JJ had his pregame playlist blasting when you opened the door and his whole truck smelled like weed. You picked up the dab in the cup holder and took a hit as he sped off toward frat row.

“You look nice.”

A blush you didn’t want to acknowledge warmed your cheeks and you blew out smoke, “Thanks bud, wish I could say the same to you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fuck off, I’m going to change before we go out.”

You just laughed and took another hit as he turned into the driveway. Following him to his room, you sat on the bed while he dug through his drawers for a shirt he hadn’t sweated in yet. He threw a shirt off the floor at you to get your attention, “Call John B and make sure he picked up the alcohol from Sarah’s please?”

“He’s your brother, you do it.”

JJ gave you a dirty look as you stretched out on his bed, “I’m getting dressed, can’t you just call him off my phone?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling unusually difficult, “I think you’re done getting ready, you look pretty, J, call him.”

He tossed the phone at you, already unlocked, and you begrudgingly pressed John B’s contact. You kicked your shoes off and got more comfortable in his bed as it rang.

“J, I’m on my way home, chill.”

“Not JJ, but I am calling to make sure you got the juice.”

“You’re just as bad as him, yes we have the alcohol.”

“We?”

John B paused for a few seconds, clearly hesitating, “Me and Sarah.”

“You’re bringing Sarah to pregame?” you asked incredulously and JJ’s head snapped up to look at you. He motioned for you to give him and phone and you shook your head.

“Give it,” he whispered.

“No,” you hissed at him, backing into the wall as he walked across the room to you.

JJ lunged toward the bed and held his hand out, “I just need to have a word with him.”

You hung up just before he ripped the phone out of your hand, and he gave you a dirty look. You smirked, “Gotta be faster, Maybank.”

“You’re the one who’s going to have to hang out with her.” And fair enough.

He crossed his arms, “Fine, you can find your own alcohol source tonight, I’m cutting you off.”

Pouting, you scrambled off the bed and wrapped him in a hug, “No, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be nice to you.”

With an eyeroll, he wrapped his arms around you too, “Fine but only because you’re my girl.”

When John B finally showed up, you and JJ were sitting on the couch scrolling through twitter together with a plate full of pizza rolls on the table in front of you. John B lifted a heavy looking cooler over the threshold and set it down next to the table, he huffed when you two didn’t even look at him, “Hey you lazy fucks, here’s the alcohol, venmo me $20 each please.”

You walked to the cooler to grab a few beers for you and JJ while he set up drunk jenga on the table and yelled out for the other residents of the house to come play. Using one of your rings, you popped the bottles open and handed one to JJ before sitting back down next to him on the couch.

Several rounds were played as you got into a comfortable buzz. One of the freshman brothers of JJ’s frat was assigned designated driver, so he sat on the floor near you, sipping on water instead of beer with the rest of you.

After Pope lost the third round in a row he stood up, annoyed, “I’m going to play beer pong, anyone up to join?”

And obviously you were down. You followed him over for a solos game and JJ followed close behind you. Pope was a little drunker than you because of all his losses, but he was still a pretty good pong player anyway, definitely one of the best in the house behind JJ.

One of his shots hit the rim of one of your cups just as JJ blew smoke in your face, causing you to miss the swat. You glared at him, “Fuck off, J.” Of course, it landed in another cup and you quickly drained both cups before tossing the ball back to Pope.

“Fuckin right, JJ,” Pope cheered, “keep up the good distraction work.”

Pope missed the rest of his shots, and you shoved JJ away long enough to make three in a row. And from that point on, you were on fire, making quick work of the rest of the game. JJ cheered as you sank the last shot and wrapped an arm around you excitedly, “That’s my girl!”

You weren’t really in the mood to black out that night, and you knew you’d be drinking downtown, so you declined Pope’s rematch challenge.

When the sober freshman finally managed to gather everyone up to be dropped off downtown, you found yourself squished in the back seat between JJ and Sarah who had been pretty quiet all night, really only talking to John B. You didn’t know much about Sarah, just that JJ didn’t like her much plus some of the stories he’d told you that didn’t give the best impression.

Kie met you in front of your favorite bar, and your group quickly shuffled inside, barely stopping to get your hands stamped before going up to the bar. Your roommate worked there and gave you discounted drinks, so it was always your starting spot.

She leaned over the bar to press a kiss to your cheek and slid a vodka cranberry to you, “Cheers, bitch,” she yelled over the blasting music.

JJ ordered shots for the group and you ordered a beer for him in return. The whole group quickly took the lemon-flavored shots and you pulled JJ onto the dance floor, barely giving him enough time to grab the beer off the bar.

An hour and three vodka cranberries later, you were screaming along to Post Malone’s I Fall Apart, one hand holding an empty cup and the other clutching the back of JJ’s neck. He was laughing at you slurring the lyrics, but he was just as drunk, and you really considered kissing him to shut him up, not for the first time.

But before you could work up either the nerve or the coordination, the song ended and he leaned down to talk in your ear, “Wanna head next door, John B just texted me they’re doing half priced shots for the football win today?”

You nodded and stepped away from him, which was a little disappointing, but JJ didn’t let you go far. He wrapped his arm around your waist and let you lead the two of you off the dance floor and out of the bar. The air outside was warm, but cooler than inside, and a breeze chilled your sweat soaked neck.

The two of you stumbled inside the building next door and met your friends at the bar where they had shots lined up for you. With a cheer, everyone slammed their shot glass on the bar twice and tossed it back.

Three hours later, you and JJ stumbled out of your fourth bar of the night and headed slowly down the sidewalk, hanging onto each other. JJ’s arm was thrown around your shoulder and your arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, hand gripping his t-shirt.

You weren’t sure how, or why, but the two of you ended up on campus, two miles away from the bar. JJ stumbled over to the fountain in the center of the quad and climbed onto the raised edge. He was swaying and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to shove him in. So you did, and unfortunately, he grabbed your arms and pulled you in with him.

“Fuck, J, why?!”

He splashed you with a bright, dopey smile, and you rolled your eyes, kicking water back in his direction. That started a fight, one you weren’t prepared for, and he overwhelmed you quickly, moving closer to wrap his arms around you.

Before you even realized what was happening, he was kissing you. You responded immediately, returning the kiss enthusiastically. It seemed to go on forever before you heard yelling coming from the edge of the quad.

JJ turned and waved clumsily at his freshman brother who had apparently tracked the two of you down to drive back home. He huffed at the two of you exasperatedly and held out towels, “Thank god for snap maps but Jesus fuck, the fountain…really guys?”

You started giggling and climbed into the backseat, plucking the juul out of JJ’s fingers to take a hit of your own before he could bring it to his lips.

“You owe me so many pods.”

Pouting, you held onto his hand, “But you love me so I get privileges.”

JJ muttered something under his breath and you leaned in trying to hear. He raised his eyebrows at you encroaching his personal space and spoke up, “Yeah I guess I do, you absolute menace.”

“Good because I love you too and that’s why I’ve been letting you drag my pong record down for two years now.”

Instead of answering, he just rolled his eyes and kissed you again.

[bluecookiedisaster]

Anger, jealousy, lust.

Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?

Yeah.

- What is wrong with you?!

- It's a bug.

He's not bothering anybody.

Get out of here, you creep!

What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?

Yeah, it was. How did you know?

It felt like about 10 pages.

Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.

You've really got that

down to a science.

- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.

- I'll bet.

What in the name

of Mighty Hercules is this?

How did this get here?

Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,

Ray Liotta Private Select?

- Is he that actor?

- I never heard of him.

- Why is this here?

- For people. We eat it.

You don't have

enough food of your own?

- Well, yes.

- How do you get it?

- Bees make it.

- I know who makes it!

And it's hard to make it!

There's heating, cooling, stirring.

You need a whole Krelman thing!

- It's organic.

- It's our-ganic!

It's just honey, Barry.

Just what?!

Bees don't know about this!

This is stealing! A lot of stealing!

You've taken our homes, schools,

hospitals! This is all we have!

And it's on sale?!

I'm getting to the bottom of this.

I'm getting to the bottom

of all of this!

Hey, Hector.

- You almost done?

- Almost.

He is here. I sense it.

Well, I guess I'll go home now

and just leave this nice honey out,

with no one around.

You're busted, box boy!

I knew I heard something.

So you can talk!

I can talk.

And now you'll start talking!

Where you getting the sweet stuff?

Who's your supplier?

I don't understand.

I thought we were friends.

The last thing we want

to do is upset bees!

You're too late! It's ours now!

You, sir, have crossed

the wrong sword!

You, sir, will be lunch

for my iguana, Ignacio!

Where is the honey coming from?

Tell me where!

Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!

Orazy person!

What horrible thing has happened here?

These faces, they never knew

what hit them. And now

they're on the road to nowhere!

Just keep still.

What? You're not dead?

Do I look dead? They will wipe anything

that moves. Where you headed?

To Honey Farms.

I am onto something huge here.

I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,

crazy stuff. Blows your head off!

I'm going to Tacoma.

- And you?

- He really is dead.

All right.

Uh-oh!

- What is that?!

- Oh, no!

- A wiper! Triple blade!

- Triple blade?

Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!

Why does everything have

to be so doggone clean?!

How much do you people need to see?!

Open your eyes!

Stick your head out the window!

From NPR News in Washington,

I'm Oarl Kasell.

But don't kill no more bugs!

- Bee!

- Moose blood guy!!

- You hear something?

- Like what?

Like tiny screaming.

Turn off the radio.

Whassup, bee boy?

Hey, Blood.

Just a row of honey jars,

as far as the eye could see.

Wow!

I assume wherever this truck goes

is where they're getting it.

I mean, that honey's ours.

- Bees hang tight.

- We're all jammed in.

It's a close community.

Not us, man. We on our own.

Every mosquito on his own.

- What if you get in trouble?

- You a mosquito, you in trouble.

Nobody likes us. They just smack.

See a mosquito, smack, smack!

At least you're out in the world.

You must meet girls.

Mosquito girls try to trade up,

get with a moth, dragonfly.

Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.

You got to be kidding me!

Mooseblood's about to leave

the building! So long, bee!

- Hey, guys!

- Mooseblood!

I knew I'd catch y'all down here.

Did you bring your crazy straw?

We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,

and it's pretty much pure profit.

What is this place?

A bee's got a brain

the size of a pinhead.

They are pinheads!

Pinhead.

- Oheck out the new smoker.

- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.

The Thomas 3000!

Smoker?

Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.

Twice the nicotine, all the tar.

A couple breaths of this

knocks them right out.

They make the honey,

and we make the money.

"They make the honey,

and we make the money"?

Oh, my!

What's going on? Are you OK?

Yeah. It doesn't last too long.

Do you know you're

in a fake hive with fake walls?

Our queen was moved here.

We had no choice.

This is your queen?

That's a man in women's clothes!

That's a drag queen!

What is this?

Oh, no!

There's hundreds of them!

Bee honey.

Our honey is being brazenly stolen

on a massive scale!

This is worse than anything bears

have done! I intend to do something.

Oh, Barry, stop.

Who told you humans are taking

our honey? That's a rumor.

Do these look like rumors?

That's a conspiracy theory.

These are obviously doctored photos.

How did you get mixed up in this?

He's been talking to humans.

- What?

- Talking to humans?!

He has a human girlfriend.

And they make out!

Make out? Barry!

We do not.

- You wish you could.

- Whose side are you on?

The bees!

I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.

Those crazy legs kept me up all night.

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts

[lambourngb]

Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates...  and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight.  This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before.  Twice.  Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah.  He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself.  What he likes.  What he wants, outside of Alex.  Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun.  Light.  Uncomplicated.  Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker. 

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!”  Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have. 

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex. 

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena. 

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two  hours or so of work.  

“You win this round, okay?” 

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage. 

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist. 

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.” 

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life. 

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.” 

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

[seaanimalonland]

All Wild Animals Were Once Called Deer | Brigit Pegeen Kelly

Some truck was gunning the night before up Pippin Hill's steep grade

And the doe was thrown wide. This happened five years ago now,

Or six. She must have come out of the woods by Simpson's red trailer—

The one that looks like a faded train car—and the driver

Did not see her. His brakes no good. Or perhaps she hit the truck.

That happens, too. A figure swims up from nowhere, a flying figure

That seems to be made of nothing more than moonlight, or vapor,

Until it slams its face, solid as stone, against the glass.

And maybe when this happens the driver gets out. Maybe not.

Strange about the kills we get without intending them.

Because we are pointed in the direction of something.

Because we are distracted at just the right moment, or the wrong.

We were waiting for the school bus. It was early, but not yet light.

We watched the darkness draining off like the last residue

Of water from a tub. And we didn't speak, because that was our way.

High up a plane droned, drone of the cold, and behind us the flag

In front of the Bank of Hope's branch trailer snapped and popped in the wind.

It sounded like a boy whipping a wet towel against a thigh

Or like the stiff beating of a swan's wings as it takes off

From the lake, a flat drumming sound, the sound of something

Being pounded until it softens, and then—as the wind lowered

And the flag ran out wide—there was a second sound, the sound of running fire.

And there was the scraping, too, the sad knife-against-skin scraping

Of the acres of field corn strung out in straggling rows

Around the branch trailer that had been, the winter before, our town's claim to fame

When, in the space of two weeks, it was successfully robbed twice.

The same man did it both times, in the same manner.

He had a black hood and a gun, and he was so polite

That the embarrassed teller couldn't hide her smile when he showed up again.

They didn't think it could happen twice. But sometimes it does.

Strange about that. Lightning strikes and strikes again.

My piano teacher watched her husband, who had been struck as a boy,

Fall for good, years later, when he was hit again.

He was walking across a cut corn field toward her, stepping over

The dead stalks, holding the bag of nails he'd picked up at the hardware store

Out like a bouquet. It was drizzling so he had his umbrella up.

There was no thunder, nothing to be afraid of.

And then a single bolt from nowhere, and for a moment the man

Was doing a little dance in a movie, a jig, three steps or four,

Before he dropped like a cloth, or a felled bird.

This happened twenty years ago now, but my teacher keeps

Telling me the story. She hums while she plays. And we were humming

That morning by the bus stop. A song about boys and war.

And the thing about the doe was this. She looked alive.

As anything will in the half light. As lawn statues will.

I was going to say as even children playing a game of statues will,

But of course they are alive. Though sometimes

A person pretending to be a statue seems farther gone in death

Than a statue does. Or to put it another way,

Death seems to be the living thing, the thing

The thing that looks out through the eyes. Strange about that . . .

We stared at the doe for a long time and I thought about the way

A hunter slits a deer's belly. I've watched this many times.

And the motion is a deft one. It is the same motion the swan uses

When he knifes the children down by his pond on Wasigan Road.

They put out a hand. And quick as lit grease, the swan's

Boneless neck snakes around in a sideways circle, driving

The bill hard toward the softest spot . . . All those songs

We sing about swans, but they are mean. And up close, often ugly.

That old Wasigan bird is a smelly, moth-eaten thing.

His wings stained yellow as if he chewed tobacco,

His upper bill broken from his foul-tempered strikes.

And he is awkward, too, out of the water. Broken-billed and gaited.

When he grapples down the steep slope, wheezing and spitting,

He looks like some old man recovering from hip surgery,

Slowly slapping down one cursed flat foot, then the next.

But the thing about the swan is this. The swan is made for the water.

You can't judge him out of it. He's made for the chapter

In the rushes. He's like one of those small planes my brother flies.

Ridiculous things. Something a boy dreams up late at night

While he stares at the stars. Something a child draws.

I've watched my brother take off a thousand times, and it's always

The same. The engine spits and dies, spits and catches—

A spurting match—and the machine shakes and shakes as if it were

Stuck together with glue and wound up with a rubber band.

It shimmies the whole way down the strip, past the pond

Past the wind bagging the goose-necked wind sock, past the banks

Of bright red and blue planes. And as it climbs slowly

Into the air, wobbling from side to side, cautious as a rock climber,

Putting one hand forward then the next, not even looking

At the high spot above the tree line that is the question,

It seems that nothing will keep it up, not a wish, not a dare,

Not the proffered flowers of our held breath. It seems

As if the plane is a prey the hunter has lined up in his sights,

His finger pressing against the cold metal, the taste of blood

On his tongue . . . but then, at the dizzying height

Of our dismay, just before the sky goes black,

The climber's frail hand reaches up and grasps the highest rock,

Hauling, with a last shudder, the body over,

The gun lowers, and perfectly poised now, high above

The dark pines, the plane is home free. It owns it all, all.

My brother looks down and counts his possessions,

Strip and grass, the child's cemetery the black tombstones

Of the cedars make on the grassy hill, the wind-scrubbed

Face of the pond, the swan's white stone . . .

In thirty years, roughly, we will all be dead . . . That is one thing . . .

And you can't judge the swan out of the water . . . That is another.

The swan is mean and ugly, stupid as stone,

But when it finally makes its way down the slope, over rocks

And weeds, through the razory grasses of the muddy shallows,

The water fanning out in loose circles around it

And then stilling, when it finally reaches the deepest spot

And raises in slow motion its perfectly articulated wings,

Wings of smoke, wings of air, then everything changes.

Out of the shallows, the lovers emerge, sword and flame,

And over the pond's lone island the willow spills its canopy,

A shifting feast of gold and green, a spell of lethal beauty.

O bird of moonlight. O bird of wish. O sound rising

Like an echo from the water. Grief sound. Sound of the horn.

The same ghostly sound the deer makes when it runs

Through the woods at night, white lightning through the trees,

Through the coldest moments, when it feels as if the earth

Will never again grow warm, lover running toward lover,

The branches tearing back, the mouth and eyes wide,

The heart flying into the arms of the one that will kill her.

via @Poetry_Daily

[365days365movies]

February 14, 2021: Brokeback Mountain (2005) (Part 1)

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Or Palentine’s, Galentine’s, Single Persons Appreciation Day, what have you!

Anyway, on this day where we (and the greeting card companies) celebrate love in all of its forms, I think it’s about time to diversify my movie choices a little bit. SO, for the next few days at least, we’re going to change it up, starting with a film that shook the 2005 public’s perceptions of love: Brokeback Mountain.

And who brings this movie to us? Same guy who gave us this:

And this:

And would give us this:

Ang Lee wasn’t originally meant to be the director of the film, as Gus van Sant was signed on to do it. You know, Good Will Hunting, Drugstore Cowboy, that one movie where Una Thurman plays the greatest hitchhiker in the world with giant thumbs, and eventually finds herself meeting multiple people, including Keanu Reeves, Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid), and a group of radicalesbians who like in the Great Plains, coexisting with a group of critically endangered whooping cranes to whom they;’ve fed peyote, while also opposing the intentions of an evil feminine hygiene product company that seeks to take over the land for their factories? YOU KNOW, THAT MOVIE?

It’s called Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and I wasn’t even slightly exaggerating with that summary, I SWEAR.

Anyway, he couldn’t do it, and Joel Schumacher also passed on it eventually, so they asked Ang Lee if he’d do it. After CTHD and Hulk, dude was on his way to retire, but after he cried at the end of the script, he accepted the job. AND HISTORY WAS MADE

Before I get into it, I should probably frank about something. I’m a cissexual, heterosexual man in a straight relationship with my girlfriend. She says hi, by the way. Here she is, a massive Jake Gyllenhaal fan, getting ready to watch this movie for the first time with me:

Isn’t she lovely? Anyway, just thought I’d be totally transparent about that. Incidentally, I remember when this film came out, as well as the fervor around it. This was JUST as the gay marriage debate was EXPLODING into the public scene, so this was obviously quite the talking point at the time.

 Anyway, shall we find out who’s not going to quit whom? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Cowboys Ennis del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are waiting outside of a trailer, with Ennis having just arrived  on a truck that reminded me of Optimus Prime, and I’m sorry. They’ve been hired by Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to look after a group of sheep and guide them over Brokeback Mountain, a fictional mountain in Wyoming.

The two finally introduce each other, with Ennis seeming considerably closed off as compared to the open Jack Twist. They head to a bar, where the two get to know each other a but better Jack’s an occasional shepherd, but highly involved in rodeos throughout the year. Ennis, meanwhile, is a regular ranchhand at his family’s farm.

Time for sheep-herding, as the two guide their flock of sheep on horseback, with soft country guitars playing in the background over all of it. And I gotta say, the music combined with the visuals is giving me this real sleepy ambience vibe that I 100% would watch specifically to fall asleep to. Which is not an insult by any means, by the way; it’s just super relaxing.

The two make camp with the sheep in a mountain valley, and now I want to go camping. I realize that it’s February, and I live in a place VERY non-conducive to camping, but GODDAMN this movie makes me want to go camping. In the wilderness, surrounded by bird calls and crisp mountain air, LET’S GO.

We find out that Ennis is engaged to be wed to a woman named Alma, while Jack is yearning to break free of needing to take jobs like this. And all the while, they’re eating beans, scaring away coyotes, and fending of REALLY REALLY FAT American black bears, who you could really easily scare away without too much difficulty. You ever stared at a bear while both of you were in the woods? I HAVE. And we BOTH took off from each other in opposite directions. They’re not the bravest of animals, black bears. Grizzlies, however, you don’t wanna fuck with.

Anyway, after they face off against that bear and lose their newly bought supplies, they go hunting the next day and take down an elk. Which is a LOT of venison, I tell you what! Oh, and I’m not a hunter, just to be clear, but elk are fuggin’ HUGE. Seriously, XL deer they are.

Anyway, time goes on after that, and they continue to make their way through the mountains. And they get to know each other more, sharing their rodeo experiences and family backgrounds. Ennis also opens up pretty considerably, a fact not missed by Jack. The two become friends.

My girlfriend asks an interesting question: if I had never heard of this movie in any capacity...would I have known the extent of the relationship of Ennis and Jack? And honestly...I’m legitimately not sure at this point. I think I would’ve just assumed that they’d stay close friends, but no further than that. Call that being raised in a society with heterosexual bias towards relationships, or call that me not being a natural shipper. Both are probably accurate, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s getting cold out, and Jack’s sleeping in the tent one night while Ennis is freezing his balls off outside. With Jack’s insistence, he goes inside the tent to sleep next to Jack. And then...

Oh. Well, OK. Again, though, still not sure that at this point I’d...oh wait...OH...OH.

OK. Think I’d be able to tell at this point what the movie’s about.

So, yeah, they have sex. It’s spontaneous, it’s wild, it’s heat of the moment passion...and it’s REAL awkward the next day, I tell you what. That next evening, Ennis and Jack both insist that they “ain’t queer,” and that this is “a one-shot thing they got goin’.”

Uh, boys? There’s some important evidence to the contrary that we should consider here. But, OK, it’s a different culture, this is super new to you both, I get it. I’m not one to talk on the coming out or discovery experience (again, straight cis dude over here), but I understand that there’s some inherent denial. But still, they continue their relationship as is, for the time being.

Which is not as private as they thought, as Joe Aguirre observes them chasing each other naked on the mountain from afar. Whoops. Well, it doesn’t matter as much, as they still have a job to do until summer ends. And that job continues. They encounter another herd of sheep that gets tangled up with theirs, snow falls on the mountain and they have to deal with that, etc.

Then one day, the two need to head out. Jack goes to fetch Ennis, who’s moping on a hillside about something. He does this play lasso thing, which seems cute...

...until it turns into a full on brawl right there on the hillside. OK. Well. Some heavy denial going on here, I think, especially on Ennis’ part. Which is somewhat understandable, given the culture, and the fact that Ennis is engaged. Oh, by the way, hello infidelity. GodDAMN IT. Escaped you for TWO MOVIES IN A ROW, and you’re back rearing your ugly head.

Anyway, the job is done soon, and Aguirre’s not exactly happy with them, as they’ve apparently lost some sheep and picked up some from the other herd’s flock accidentally. With a light rebuke from Aguirre, the two part ways with not much else said. Jack asks if Ennis will come back the next summer, and Ennis reminds him that he’s getting married that fall. But as Ennis leaves...

Huh. Interesting reaction, that. Well, in the next scene, Ennis gets married to Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), and they seem to have a very happy relationship. They have two daughters together in a pretty small amount of time. The next summer, Jack tries to get a job with Joe Aguirre once again, but is refused on account of his relationship with Ennis on the mountain...kind of.

See, here’s the thing. Joe rebukes Jack for having their relationship on the mountain, leaving the dogs to babysit the sheep, rather than do the job they were hired for. And, uh...he’s not wrong, honestly. Yeah, OK, there’s definitely some homophobia laced in there, obviously, but they were hired to watch the sheep, and we only really saw them do that once or twice. So, yeah, sorry to say, but Joe’s not entirely unjustified in not rehiring Jack.

At a Fourth of July festival, Ennis brings his wife and daughters to see the fireworks, when a couple of bikers antagonize the crowd as a whole. This results in Ennis telling them to stop, and a fight takes place, with Ennis IMMEDIATELY taking out the two bikers, with little effort. Anger issues there, Ennis? 

Jack returns to the rodeo, with new other options for money. He’s clearly also coming to terms with his own sexuality, as seen when he not so subtly hits on a cowboy at the bar. However, he also meets a young woman, a barrel racer named Lureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway), whom he seems to get along with fairly quickly at a rodeo. They dance together at the bar that night, and, uh...park.

And that, of course, leads to their eventual marriage and parentage as well. Looks like Lureen’s parents arent the biggest fans of Jack, though. Sure that’s going to lead to a healthy relationship down the road.

Been about 4 years since Brokeback Mountain, and this is punctuated by Jack paying a visit to Ennis’ place, which Ennis is told about by Alma. He seems...very anious, waiting nervously for a day to see him. But he finally arrives, and the two embrace happily. And then...

Oh, and Alma sees? Sure, sure, oh, and they go to a motel IMMEDIATELY? Oh, OK, OK, infidelity? Yuuuuuuupyupyupyupyupyup, halfway point? Yeah, sure, see you in Part 2. Geez.

[trashyswitch]

The Struggle is REAL!

Patton gets aggressive and surprisingly giggly when the car won't start. Logan is left in awe by the strange reaction, while Roman laughs his head off and further teases him and annoys him. It doesn't take long for the Moral and Creative side to start up a playful and slightly aggressive tickle fight.

I got this idea from a TikTok about a guy struggling to get his truck started. I hope you like it!

Patton, Logan and Roman were sitting in Thomas’s car. Logan was in the passenger seat, Patton was in the driver's seat, and Roman was in the back. They were planning on picking up some take out from a local chinese food restaurant. But the boys weren’t going anywhere until Patton got the car started.

Patton sighed as he attempted to turn the car key in the ignition. It was turning, but the car engine wasn’t turning on. Patton turned it over, and over, and over again, but nothing would turn on. “Um…” Patton removed the key and stared at it. “Excuse me, please work.” Patton told it before shoving it back into the ignition. Patton turned it once: nothing. He turned it twice: nothing. Patton frowned and turned it a third time! Nothing! Patton ripped the key out of the ignition. “What did I just tell you?” Patton asked it with a stern voice.

Roman was snickering at him, while Logan was looking at Patton with slight worry. “Would you like some help, Patton?” Logan asked.

“No.” Patton said back.

“Are you sure?” Logan clarified.

“I can do this. The key is just...being...VERY difficult.” Patton explained as he struggled with the key again.

Logan nodded. “I can see that.” He reacted.

Roman was covering his mouth and struggling to keep himself together. He could tell Patton was getting close to raging, and he couldn’t wait to see it.

“Is it really that hard?” Roman asked. Patton let out a high-pitched growl and smacked the steering wheel with his palm.

Logan widened his eyes for a moment. “Here Patton. Would you like me to-” Logan brought his hand over to the key and the ignition, and started trying to turn it himself. Sure enough, the ignition was failing to start the car. “The wiring must be faulty. It may take a few more tries to get-”

“I’m doing it!” Patton declared as he basically ripped Logan’s fingers off the key and grasped it with his own hand.

“Uh-...Okay.” Logan replied in a calm, but worried tone.

Patton tried turning it half a dozen times in a single run. But nothing was starting the car. Patton tried gripping the key a different way, and turned it a couple dozen times in a row. He tried turning it quickly: nothing. He tried turning it slower: nothing. He tried turning it with immense force: no reaction. And finally, he calmed himself down long enough to try it lightly:

Nothing.

“GRRRAAAA! YOU STUPID-” Patton ripped the key out of the ignition and floored the gas petal in anger. Since the car wasn’t actually on, the car didn’t even move an inch.

Logan looked at Patton in surprise. “Okay...Patton, let’s breath...alright?” Logan told him. Patton took a moment to breath in, hold his breath and breathe out. He breathed in, held his breath for a few seconds, and let out his breath. He breathed in-

“Yohou gonna start the car yet?” Roman asked.

Patton’s breath exploded from his mouth and came out in a mix of hysterical laughter, and frustrated growls. “Ihihihi’m TRYYYYYIHIHING!” Patton yelled over his shoulder. “IHIHIT WON’T START!” Patton added before taking another shot at starting the truck.

Logan sat back and stared at Patton in disbelief. Was Patton...laughing out of frustration?

Meanwhile, Patton was turning the key dozens of times per minute in an attempt to get the car to do something. Patton’s emotions were a mix of a trainwreck, and failarmy all in 1. His brain was growing insane from frustration, but his brain was also laughing over the stupid conundrum. Patton let out a quick growl, and headbutted the middle of the steering wheel in anger.

HOOOONK!

Patton screamed and threw his head back up, before bursting out laughing and leaning into the driver's seat. Roman bursted out laughing at the moment as well. “OHOHO MY GOHOHOD I’M DYHYHYIHIHING!” Roman shouted.

Logan was the only person not laughing. Instead, he was just staring at them in pure confusion. “I...what in the world is so funny?” Logan asked.

“Ihihi cahan’t start the car! And I made the car go HOOONK! WITH MY FOREHEAD!” Patton told him before falling into another laughing fit.

Logan didn’t know what to say to that. The other two sides were acting like idiots, but...they were acting like rambunctious, cute little idiots.

“Cohome on Patton! Start the car already!” Roman told him.

“YOU DON’T THINK I’M TRYING?!” Patton exclaimed.

“Well yeah, but...try jiggling it-”

“JIGGLE IT?!” Patton yelled.

“Yes! Jiggle it as you turn it!” Roman told him.

Logan narrowed his eyes at Roman in slight anger. “That’s just gonna make the wiring worse-”

But Patton was already jiggling the key while he turned it. He tried to jiggle before he turned it: it didn’t work. He tried to jiggle the key while he turned it: that didn’t work either. He tried jiggling it after it was turned all the way: That failed. He even removed it, put it back in, turned it again and jiggled it like a mad man! And would you know, it didn’t work.

“FUUUCK!” Patton shouted before he pulled the key out of the ignition again.

Logan’s jaw dropped in surprise. “WHOA...Patton! Your language-”

“I’m DONE! I’M DONE WITH THIS STUPID CAR! IT’S BEEN CAUSING THOMAS SO MUCH TROUBLE FOR SO LONG…” Patton yelled with a slight smile on his face.

“Pahahat- Hey Pat…” Roman called.

Patton sighed and sunk down in the chair. “What.” He replied.

Roman’s smirk widened as he changed his voice to a raspy, elder Karen voice. “You just gotta JIGGLE IT, I SWEAR!” Roman joked, referencing the TikTok audio. Patton wheezed and hit the steering wheel again. “Fuck you, Kevin.” Roman added as Patton resumed his attempts to turn the key.

Logan sighed and rubbed his nose. “Is now really the time for TikTok jokes?” Logan asked.

“Are you kidding?! Now is the PERFECT time for a TikTok joke!” Roman told him.

Patton resumed his key turning for a good few minutes. But like a computer with no battery, it just wouldn’t start running.

“Bro, start the truck!” Roman added.

“IT WON’T! STAHAHART! DO YOU WANNA TRY IT?!” Patton yelled at Roman.

“No, no, no. I wanna see you and your flimsy little arms start this car.” Roman replied in with a smirk.

“I-De-I-UM- FLIMSY ARMS?!” Patton shouted at him.

“Roman, stop pissng him off!” Logan ordered sternly.

“Patton’s not pissed off. Patton, are you pissed off right now?” Roman asked.

Patton widened his smile as he shook his head in shock. “YYEHEHEHES!” Patton shouted over his shoulder.

“Aw, come on Pat. You just get stronger and jiggle the key until it starts!” Roman explained.

Patton let out a long growl and a whine and rested his forehead on the top of the steering wheel. He was going insane, over a simple car issue! And Roman wasn’t making things any better! Logan was being an angel by keeping quiet and trying to help him, but Roman was being annoying, just for the hell of it!

“Hey...hey Pat…” Roman called calmly. Oh gosh...what does he want now? “You gonna start the car yet?” Roman asked.

It was as if a switch was flicked on inside his brain! Because almost immediately after those words were spoken, Patton abandoned the driver's seat, climbed right into the back and started tickling Roman as revenge for being SO ANNOYING!

“BAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOTICKLES, NOHOHO TICKLIHIHIHIHIHIHING!” Roman shouted at him through his newfound laughter.

“Are you done? Are you done bothering me, Roman?” Patton asked, slight frustration still present in his voice.

“WHAHAHAT HAHAPPEHEHENED TOHO YOHOHOUR PAHAHATIEHENCE?!” Roman exclaimed.

“Oh! Patient Patton isn’t here right now! Wanna know who IS here?” Patton asked.

“NOHOHOHO TIHIHICKLE MOHOHONSTEHEHEHER!” Roman begged.

“Nope! It’s the HANGRY TICKLE MONSTER! AND BOY, DOES THIS MONSTER NEED FOOD!” Patton declared before shoving his face into Roman’s belly and nibbling loudly.

NONONONAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHE! OH GOD, PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged.

WhaAaAaAat? But the Hangry tickle monster barely got a few bites in!” Patton whined.

Roman couldn’t talk. The laughter from earlier, mixed with the laughter from Patton tickling, was leaving him gasping for air. So, Roman shook his head helplessly.

“Awww, the poor man can’t talk! Perhaps he should’ve thought of what he was doing when he’s making a hungry tickle monster even more hu- EEEEK! LOHOHO! NAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Patton declared. Quickly though, Patton was interrupted by his own laughter! Logan appeared to have climbed into the back seat of the car as well, and was now hugging Patton and squeezing his sides and ribs.

“It appears that the hangry tickle monster needs a little help calming down…” Logan said in a calm, but sly voice.

Roman quickly took the free opportunity, to get up and grab Patton’s foot. Patton yelped and tugged on his foot, but failed to get it loose. “NOHOHO FEEEEHEHEHET!” Patton begged.

“Oho! No feet? I didn’t know the hangry tickle monster had ticklish feet!” Roman reacted jokingly. “Please explain by laughing as I tickle!” Roman ordered before tickling his now bare, left foot.

Patton widened his eyes for a moment and burst into hysterics, before squeezing them shut. Logan lessened his own fingers to let Roman take over, and primarily watched the poor Father fall apart just from one ticklish foot. “Aah...I get it! The tickle monster is extremely ticklish!” Roman commented.

“YOHOHOU THIHIHIHINK?!” Patton shouted back.

“Now what would happen if I sloooowly moooove to your…ticklish widdle toesies?” Roman moved his fingers up and up to Patton’s 5 toes and started scratching under them.

Patton fell into cackles almost immediately. He attempted to move his foot around to tug it free, but Roman had a really good hold on it. Plus, moving his foot around would only tickle him further.

“NOOOHOHO TOHOHOHOES! NOHOHOHO TOHOHOHOES!” Patton begged as he squirmed around.

“No toes, huh? Funnily enough, I see 5 little toes right here! This little piggy went to the market…” Roman started grabbing his toes one at a time, and started pushing them back and tickling under them.

“AAAAEEEEEEEHEHEHEHE!” Patton squealed.

“This little piggy stayed home!” Roman continued, pulling back the 2nd toe and giving the skin underneath a few scratches.

“COHOHOHOME OHOHON, ROHOHOHOHO! NOHOHO RHYHYHYHYMES!” Patton begged despite his powerless state.

Roman ignored Patton’s plea however, and only continued the rhyme.

“This little piggy got the giggles…” Roman continued, pulling the third toe back and giving the underside some little scratches.

“THAHAT’S NOT HOHOHOW IHIT GOHOHOHOHOES!” Patton protested.

“It is now!” Roman declared before continuing. “And this little piggy got de tickle-tickle-tickles!” Roman rhymed, lifting the 4th toe up and tickling under it.

“NUUUUHUHUHUHUHU! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Patton laughed and squirmed in Logan’s arms.

Logan decided to join Roman for the last verse: “And this little piggy went WEE WEE WEE WEE WEE WEE! All the waaayy home!” Roman and Logan both spoke proudly as Roman tickled the underside of Patton’s pinky toe.

“EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI’M DYHYIHING, I’M DYHYHYHYHYIHIHING!” Patton yelled fruitlessly.

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” Logan told Roman.

Roman stopped tickling almost immediately. “Sounds good.” Roman replied and stepped back. Patton was a giggly mess of emotions within Logan’s arms. Logan happily welcomed this giddy behaviour and pulled Patton into a big hug from behind. Patton giggled through almost the entire hug, and hugged Logan’s arms as best he could in his position.

Suddenly, the sudden roaring of the car engine filled the car for a moment. Patton and Logan looked towards the driver's seat, and widened their eyes at Roman’s magical fingers. Roman had managed to figure out how to start the car! But how?! Roman’s never driven!

“WHAT?!” Patton shouted.

“Huh…” Was all Logan could say.

Roman giggled at him. “You’re welcome.” Roman replied with a smile.

And with that, the three boys headed off to get some good ol’ chow mein, sesame chicken and amazing chicken balls covered in cherry sauce.

The perfect meal for the hungry sides.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Extraordinary

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve is just trying to get through his day to day life in the wake of The Battle of New York, working at SHIELD and trying to ignore his own personal demons. Then he meets Y/N, a librarian who sees more than just the mantle of Captain America. 

Content Warning: some negative inner dialogue

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This was written for the oh-so-talented @lancsnerd ‘s 1k Challenge. I picked the quote “You’re not special. You’re extraordinary.” for Steve. I really had a blast with this prompt and I hope you all enjoy the fic! XOXO - Ash

Extraordinary

“A hero? Like you?” Tony spits out incredulously,  “You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

Tony’s words echo in Steve’s head as he wakes with a start. Heart pounding, chest heaving, he tries to get his bearings. A dream. Just a dream. The words though, those still sting. Even a year later Steve can’t shake the feeling that Tony was right. Shit. He’s never getting back to sleep now. 

Steve drags himself out of bed, ignoring the alarm clock’s judgmental blue glow of 4:15am. At least he made it past 3am this time. Sleep problems are common in people with PTSD, his therapist had told him. She offered him medication to help but Steve declined, not sure how well it would work with his super soldier metabolism anyways. He dresses quickly, wanting to get a run in before breakfast. Steve has plenty of time, SHIELD doesn’t require him to show up until 9am, but he’s normally there before eight. He likes feeling useful, and having a steady job at SHIELD has been centering for him.

Steve runs a full marathon before the sun even comes up. He returns home just over an hour later, sweaty and finally starting to feel his muscles burn a little. It’s nice being able to lose himself for a little while in the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement. He stares at his coffee maker for a moment before deciding it isn’t worth the hassle. It’s strange, having the luxury of getting coffee out just because he feels like it. The 1940s still feel like they were a few years ago and Steve’s depression era values run deep. He will admit though, there’s something to be said for takeout. Steve powers through two protein bars as he gets ready for a shower, needing something in his system before he crashes. It’s obnoxious some days how much his enhanced body requires, but he manages. It’s just one of the many unexpected side effects of Erskine’s serum.

Surviving Project Rebirth had been a blessing and a curse. Steve had finally gotten everything he wanted; a chance to fight for what was right, to do something meaningful with his life. But it came with a high price: his freedom. Steve’s life hasn’t been his own since the moment he stepped out of the vita-ray pod. He wasted so much time being the military’s dancing monkey and then once they realized he could fight, it was one battle after another. Even in this new century, he was thrust into a battle for mankind shortly after thawing out. Working for SHIELD for the past year has felt like a vacation after WWII and the Battle of New York. 

Steve clears the steam from the bathroom mirror after his shower, needing to do a quick shave. He stares at his reflection long after his face is back to its standard smoothness. Tony was right, his inner demons whisper. Fraud. Nothing. Worthless. Steve knows he’s supposed to reframe his thoughts and move past his negative inner dialogue, but in the moment he just can’t summon the will to care. Running a comb through his hair, he heads into the bedroom to dress for the day. He may not feel up to it at the moment but given a little time and some coffee, he’ll be okay by the time he gets into the office. 

The sounds of the city in downtown DC remind Steve of the Brooklyn of his youth and he’s comforted by the familiar hustle and bustle. He almost doesn’t see the oncoming trash truck when you step off the sidewalk to cross the street. A step behind you, Steve catches the large green truck out of the corner of his eye. The truck barely stops at the light and makes an illegal right turn on red, barreling straight for you. Steve, in a burst of speed, slams into you, scooping you up in his arms and rolling into the other lane out of the way of danger. As his broad shoulders collide with the pavement he holds you as tightly as he can, letting his body take the brunt of the impact. People on the sidewalk scream watching the scene unfold, but it’s all background noise to Steve who is only focused on the squeak of surprise you make as you roll. 

You come to a stop with Steve below you and he’s frantic to make sure you’re okay. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks urgently.

You blink a few times, gaining your bearings. One minute you’re crossing the street to work, the next you’re using America’s most famous super soldier as a human mattress. Not how you expected your day to go, to say the least. “I’m okay. I think.”

Steve frowns, still concerned. “You could be in shock. Here, let’s get you up.” 

You start to get up on your own but the second you’re off him Steve jumps up and reaches out. You accept his hand, pulling yourself up from the dirty DC street and trying in vain to straighten out your clothes. Steve collects your messenger bag and has it ready to hand over as soon as you’re done fussing with your silk blouse that is definitely going to need a trip to the dry cleaners after this. “Thanks.” you give him a small smile as you take your bag. 

Steve feels his breath catch in the wake of your smile. You’re petite compared to him, your smart bun is a little mussed from the rolling and your cheeks are flushed. He tries to ignore his interest in your soft feminine curves but Steve would have to be blind not to notice you. Almost a hundred years old and he still doesn’t know how to act around a pretty girl. Idiot. Useless, his demons hiss. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he blurts out before his brain can catch up, “If you’re in shock then I can at least keep an eye on you for a bit.” 

First he saves your life, now he’s offering you coffee. Captain America indeed. “You don’t have to, really. I was going to just stop in at La Columbe on my way to work.” 

“I was headed there too! Come on, I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re not gonna pass out the second the shock wears off.” Steve gives you his very best earnest expression, “Please? I’m Steve, by the way.” he adds as an afterthought.

“Hi Steve.” you try not to laugh. Like you hadn’t recognized the literal symbol of America. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, coffee?” 

“Sure, why not?” you agree. Steve’s face lights up like the sun and you’re blinded by it. Part of you wonders if the truck actually hit you and you’re dead, or maybe in a coma dreaming. Only the slight ache in your shoulder gives you confidence that this surreal experience is your real life.

You follow Steve down the block to your favorite coffee shop, making small talk along the way by explaining you work at the library two blocks over. You’ve run the children's programs and adult literacy group there for the past four years. Steve seems genuinely interested in your work which is both surprising and sweet. 

There’s no line at the coffee shop so you take a minute to pick your drink while Steve orders his usual Americano and a bag full of breakfast sandwiches. He looks bashfully over at you once he’s done, insisting you add your coffee to his tab. You settle on a smoked butterscotch latte, it’s been a while since you had one. You stop there every morning before work but never order the same drink twice in a row.

You try to get Steve to talk about himself while you wait for your drinks but he’s adorably vague. “Steve,” you stop him with a gentle hand on his forearm, “I know who you are. It’s okay.” 

Steve barks out a laugh, “Sorry. I forget sometimes. Okay then, I’m heading into the office to consult on a mission from last week. They have me review mission reports to make notes on how we can improve things in the future.” 

“That’s actually really cool.” you tell him. You would have said more but your orders are up and Steve hands you your paper to go cup. “Well, thanks for the drink, Steve. And the whole saving me thing.” you joke.

“Any time ma’am.” he quips, full of cheesy Captain America charm. You’re surprised and delighted to find he has a little bit of sass to him. “Really though,” he adds in a normal tone, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I am, thanks to you.” 

There’s an awkward moment before you part. You don’t want to come across as a crazy fangirl but you also want to talk to him again sometime. Then again, you’re a librarian who’s closest friends are books and he’s Captain freaking America. You squash down the impulse and part ways with a smile. At least you’ll have an interesting story to tell Ellen at work. 

A few days go by and Steve keeps hoping to see you again at the coffee shop. It’s completely ridiculous but he wants to check on you and make sure you’re okay. It also doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful. Steve spends two days debating with himself if it would be creepy or kind to pop by the library to check on you. By Friday morning he’s talked himself into it as he wraps up his run. He throws on a smart looking button up shirt and makes sure his hair is slicked back nicely in a way Natasha insists is stylish. Fool. Impostor. Idiot. His head demons whisper as he checks himself in the mirror one last time. He forces himself to ignore them and heads out in the warm summer air. 

Steve realizes as he stands on the steps of the library that he doesn’t know your schedule. Or your last name. He steels himself for impending failure and heads inside. He can at least try. 

Your voice carries through the quiet library and it calms him immediately. “- and he hopped so high that his ears brushed the branches above. That’s good hopping thought little nutbrown hare…” 

Steve follows the sound of your voice across the library where he finds you sitting cross legged on a brightly patterned carpet in front of a small herd of preschoolers. Your tone and expressions keep the kids engaged as you read them a story and Steve is spellbound. He hangs back quietly leaning on a bookcase, watching you lead the group and waiting for you to finish. It doesn’t take long before the group disbands and you’re on your own to clean up after receiving a few enthusiastic hugs from the kids. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve says walking over to you. 

You look up, not having noticed him before. “Steve!” you try to stifle how excited you are by his presence. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing.” 

“I’m fine, really. I promise. Your life saving skills are excellent.” 

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch being behind a desk.” 

“Definitely not.” you assure him, “So, anything I can help you with while you’re here?” 

Steve realizes he hadn’t thought much past seeing you again. “Could I take you out for a cup of coffee?” 

“I’m working right now.” Steve’s heart drops in his chest, “But I’ll be free for lunch around one.”

Lunch. Not just coffee, but an actual meal. Hope renews in Steve. “I can do that. I could pick you up here?” 

“Sure. There’s a few places around here, so we have options.” 

“Okay great,” Steve tries to reign in his enthusiasm, “I’ll see you then.” Steve gives you a blinding smile before you part ways and it makes you wonder if the fluttering feeling in your chest might be reciprocated after all. 

Steve arrives back at the library at one o’clock sharp, not really caring if it messes up his schedule at Shield. He never takes a real lunch, often just grabbing a tray of something in the cafeteria and dragging it back up to his office to eat while he works. It’s nice getting out in the warm sunshine in the middle of the day. Steve spots you coming out at the same time he’s heading up the stairs and he gives you a small wave. “Ready to go?” he calls as he meets you on the stairs. 

“Absolutely.” you grin, “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I eat just about anything.” 

“Me too. Um, there’s a really good taco truck around the corner. We could eat in the park?” 

“Sounds great.” Steve agrees easily. It’s not a conventional type of first date and that makes it almost more exciting to him. 

You show Steve the way to your favorite food truck where you have to suppress your surprise when he practically buys out the truck. He apologizes profusely, making sure the guys know if they need to wait on other people first he’s fine waiting. 

“Steve,” you finally attempt to get his attention, “You know it’s okay to order yourself a meal, right? You don’t have to keep apologizing, these guys are used to the lunch rush.” 

Steve’s cheeks redden and he rubs a hand on the back of his neck, a visible nervous tick. “I know.” he says, but his words don’t sound convincing even to himself. 

A few others do show up while you wait but as expected, the guys are used to the rush and have no trouble keeping up. After only a few minutes they’re calling Steve’s name and he hurries over to collect your bags. A pair of girls are eyeing him as he accepts the food, whispering in the least subtle way possible. They can’t be more than twenty and they’re frantically typing on their phones as they whisper. 

“Are you, Captain America?” the braver of the two asks him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve replies. His tone is friendly yet guarded and you watch him with curiosity. 

The girls giggle, and the other speaks up, “I did a whole history project on you and the Howlies a few years ago. You’re a real inspiration.” 

“Um… thank you.” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously again. “You ladies have a nice day.” He’s moving away before they can even say goodbye, making a beeline for you.

Finding a picnic table over by the shade trees Steve lays out the food, your taco platter looking pitiful next to his spread. Steve’s shoulders start to loosen a little as you start chatting about your day. You see him cringe when the girls from earlier walk past, but they don’t stop or say anything, only giving him quick little waves as they pass by. 

“That has to be a little overwhelming.” you comment mildly.

“Hmm?” Steve hums, mouth full of taco.

“Being recognized all the time.” you clarify. “It has to be a little overwhelming.” 

Steve nods, “Yeah, I’m still getting used to it. I just don’t get it. I’m really nothing special.” 

You laugh lightly, “Steve, you’re Captain America. You’re not special, you’re extraordinary.” 

“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who never learned to stand down in a fight.” he shrugs. 

“And grew up to save the world. Twice.” 

“Nah, I had a lot of help with that.”

“You really suck at letting people compliment you, you know that?” you tease.

Steve sighs, shaking his head, “I just don’t get it. I don’t want to be Cap all the time. Sometimes I just want to be Steve Rogers.” 

“Well there’s your problem then.” Steve looks at you expectantly to continue. “Because Steve Rogers is pretty damn extraordinary too.” 

Steve stares at you for a stunned moment. He doesn’t even know how to respond to adequately express how much your words mean to him. No one has wanted Steve just for himself since Peggy and that had been a lifetime ago. For once the demons in his head are silent. Steve takes a long, steadying breath before speaking. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Now, tell me, what does Steve Rogers do for fun?”

Steve laughs at the topic change. “Have you heard of the show Parks and Recreation?”

“That is literally the best show.” you give your words a Chris Traeger inflection and watch as a wide smile breaks out on Steve’s face.

“Nice. Well, I’m watching that right now. I’m about halfway through the list of important things to watch and this show’s actually pretty good.” 

“You have a list? What else is on it?” you wonder who made it for him and if any other of your favorite shows are on it.

“How much time do you have?” Steve jokes.

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” 

But you didn’t have all the time in the world. You didn’t need to get back to the library for the next group until 3:30 and you had thought that would be more than enough time. Instead the minutes flew by as you talked with Steve and by the time you finish, you’re racing back to the library to make it there on time. Talking with Steve was as easy as breathing and you were disappointed when you realized you were out of time. You had kept the conversation on generic ‘getting to know you’ topics, keeping away from anything Avengers related since he seemed uncomfortable talking about his public persona. While a tiny part of your brain had swooned over Captain America at first, you’re currently swooning over Steve Rogers himself. He’s kind, surprisingly funny, and as you suspected, genuinely a good man. 

“Y/N, wait!” Steve calls out, causing you to stop in the doorway to the library. You had already said your goodbyes but Steve’s mouth had gotten ahead of his brain yet again. 

You look to him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a long breath, bracing himself against his own nerves.“Can we do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, Steve. We can.”

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Eighteen

This isn’t the first time Clark has been interviewed about the farm. He remembers being about twelve years old, sitting on the front of the tractor while his dad talked about immigrating, and starting fresh on an entirely different continent. 

The reporter at the time was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She had smiled and took notes, and even asked questions that went beyond the breadth of the “fluff piece” this was supposed to be. 

Clark always had a soft spot for reporters after that. They were people searching for the truth. That truth had to be harsh sometimes. They had to work hard and chase leads and bring light to unsavory things. 

But sometimes, a good story was just talking about life, and making other people feel good. It was a balance that Clark could respect. Because he knew as much as anyone how difficult it was to find balance in your work. 

Because Clark loved what he did. He loved the farm, he loved continuing on his parent’s legacy. But there were days that he wondered what it would be like to chase stories, to go on adventures, to peel back the layers of the world and find what was waiting beneath. 

Those were the days he took a little longer out on the tractor. Clark was a known daydreamer. His mom always liked to tell people that he had that faraway look in his eye the day that they met, even though he was three months old. 

(That’s another story he finds himself daydreaming about chasing. Finding out who his biological parents were. Why they didn’t want him.)

But those were thoughts for another time. Because there was a reporter back on the Kent farm again, and Clark needed to focus on that. This wasn’t the classy woman with her wedge shoes and her big pearl earrings from his childhood. This was a young man, dark headed and dark eyed, wearing a flannel shirt and work boots. (He’d have an easier time getting around the farm than Ms. Lane did.)

The one thing they did have in common was the bright light of curiosity in their eyes. 

“Farm fresh is one of those things you see written all over packages in the grocery store, right? They say that it’s farm fresh butter, or farm fresh cheese, and that’s almost never the case.” Clark has been practicing his little speech since he first got the email from Mr. Stilinski about wanting to come to the farm and interview him.

It’s going pretty good, if Clark can say so himself. 

“But farm to table? That’s exactly what the name implies. We work with local businesses to get them fresh produce, fresh dairy, and even fresh meat at certain times of the year.” Clark had thought about going into the logistics of meat production in a small scale business, but that kind of stuff probably wasn’t palatable. No one really wanted to know where their beef, chicken or duck was coming from. 

So he would keep to the easier things. Harvesting vegetables and fruit, and milking the cows. Everyone always got a kick out of milking the cows. 

“And I think that’s something to take pride in. Not that there’s anything wrong with mass produced food, everyone needs to eat.” There was a lot wrong with mass produced food, especially meat. Carbon emissions were a problem, as well as the discarding of less than attractive looking fruit and vegetables. But this wasn’t Clark’s pulpit. This was about the farm. 

“I like being able to walk down the street and know that what we’re doing here at the farm is nourishing people. And that it’s making them happy, too.” Clark looks over at Mr. Stilinski, who’s told him twice now to call him Stiles, but he can’t stop him from thinking about him as Mr. Stilinski, and grins. 

“We’ve come a long way from parents just slopping veggies out of a can and onto a plate.” Not that his mom ever did that. Martha Kent wasn’t a fancy cook, but she was a good one. She knew how to make the most out of what they pulled out of the ground at the farm. A little homemade butter and some herbs went a long way when it came to green beans. 

Stiles is taking notes on his phone, Clark can see his thumbs flying. That itching urge to check the screen over the top of his shoulder is there, but Clark squashes it down. It wouldn’t be polite. 

It also wouldn’t be polite to let Stiles walk into that cow patty that was right in front of him. They were crossing the pasture because it was the fastest way to get from the barn out to the fields. But it was a mine field out here, and Mr. Stilinski was about to step into one stinky mine. 

“Watch out.” But Stiles was still lifting a foot. Clark reaches out to grab slim shoulders in his hand, turning Stiles just about fifteen degrees to the left so that he bypasses the cow patty and can walk on. “Sorry. Didn’t want you to get your shoes dirty.”

Clark waits, a beat of silence as those big dark eyes zero in on him. “Dirtier. Because you’re in the dirt already. And that’s dirty. So…” Great. He sounded like an idiot. But Clark couldn’t help it. Those were the prettiest brown eyes he’d ever seen. 

Not that he was going to say or do anything about it. Clark spent enough time as a kid watching men hit on his mother when she was just trying to get her work done. That wasn’t how you showed interest in somebody. Clark was just going to let the man do his job and keep that appreciation to himself.

But Stiles just grins right back at him, and Clark breathes out a sigh of relief. “We could go into the paddock, if you wanted to see them up close and personal.” Not an improvement, Kent. “The cows. Not the cow patties. You don’t want to see them close up.”

Before he can say anything else dumb, Clark shifts away from the path towards the fields. They could go look at rows of carrots and potatoes after this. The cows were more fun, and they always appreciated the company. 

(There was more than one reason they only slaughtered once a year. Clark had a bad habit of getting attached to the cows and the pigs and ducks and chickens.)

The cows are already milling near the front of the paddock. They’re not used to being penned up during the day, so they’re curious about the change. “Alright guys, make a little room, make a little room.” Clark’s voice is soft with amusement as he nudges his way into the paddock, shoulder brushing against Stiles as he reaches behind him to shut the paddock gate behind them both. 

If they got loose now, there would be no rounding them up before nightfall. And that meant he’d put a heck of a kink in this whole interview plan. 

“I don’t know how much you’ve been around cows…” Clark tries not to assume things about people. Of course, the first time he laid eyes on Stiles, his thoughts wouldn’t have gone to reporter. So he’s not going to make any assumptions here. “But they’re pretty much like big, laid back labradors.”

Case in point, Krypto, a big old white lab who hadn’t made his way off of the porch at all when Stiles showed up. Clark had mumbled ‘some guard dog you are’ and gotten a wag of the tail for his trouble. 

“They’re curious. They’ll want to smell you.” Clark laughs as he’s jostled to the side and has to shift his stance a little wider to make room for him to stand without getting knocked over. “And they don’t realize how much they weigh. So they’ll bump into you, thinking you’re just another cow and you’ll brush it off.”

Clark reaches out, scratching behind a big ear. “This is Bessie.” He sees the look from Stiles, and laughs. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the most creative guy these days. I used that all up on Krypto.” He gestures back towards the big farm house, and the wrap around porch where his white lab was currently sunning himself, belly turned up towards the streaming sunlight.

“Bessie is one of our dairy cows. She makes the milk, which helps us make the butter and cheese.” There’s a big nose pushing into his stomach, and Clark reaches out absently to keep one of the other cows from knocking Stiles over, a big palm against his back. 

“Sorry. They mean well. They’re just…” Clark laughs. “Fat isn’t the nicest word I can think of, but it’s the only one coming to mind right about now.”

Clark chews on his lip for a minute, and tries to remember where he’s at in his bullet points for this interview. It’s long gone, because he didn’t even plan to bring Stiles over here with the cows to begin with. 

But it’s feeling nice and worth it because Stiles is smiling down at the two cows who have bunched up in front of him. Clark watches as the reporter scratches behind ears and under chins, cooing sweet nonsense to the cows that were eating up the attention. 

“We do a lot less meat sales these days.” Clark admits sheepishly. “I don’t have the heart for it. I was lucky when I was a kid that my dad never made me help when it came time for culling the herd. I got to stay inside. So now that he’s retired, I only really sell meat in special circumstances.”

Even the chickens and the ducks were too sweet for Clark to butcher them. It just wasn’t in his nature. His dad liked to call him a soft touch. Clark is pretty sure that’s just the polite word for ‘pansy’ that his dad chose. 

“We also have a small amount of rescue animals.” Clark cranes his neck, looking around at the milling cows to try and find who he was looking for. There’s a soft ‘aha’ and Clark points to the back. “That’s Petunia. She was abandoned when another farmer closed up shop. When we found her, she was all skin and bones.”

And Clark had spent more than a few nights in the barn with her, trying to get her to eat and feel better. Thankfully, the winters didn’t get too cold here, but there was at least one night that Clark slept under a blanket in the pen with her, until she was well enough to join the herd. 

“We’ve got a duck named Popcorn who my mom found in a parking lot.” He shakes his head, warm and fond. “Little guy flew right into her open truck window and sat down. He was ready to go. So Mom said it was meant to be.” 

Stiles is watching him again, though his fingers are still scratching absently at whichever cow was near enough to be under his fingers. “So you’re not the only one around here who’s adopted.”

It’s not a question, and Clark is caught off guard by the words. Stiles must have read the other article on the farm, even though it was probably printed before he was born. That was the only way Clark can think of that he would know that Clark was adopted. 

“Yeah.” Clark agrees softly after a moment of thought. He nods, and feels the words really settle into him. “Yeah, we’re big on adoption around here.” For a moment, Stiles looks like he’s thinking about apologizing. But he smiles when Clark smiles. 

“And since you’re here, why don’t you go ahead and help me get everyone fed? That way you get a feel for what a day in the life on the Kent farm is really like.”

[teaboot]

hello! i’m writing a story where a bunch of ghosts befriend a still-alive person, and i was wondering if i could ask you about cemetary caretaking in dms? (because that’s the setting, and i know nothing about cemetary caretaking.) or if not, could you point me in the direction of others who know more?

Yep! Keep in mind though that each Cemetary can have different rules about what markers, headstones, and offerings are allowed, so. There is that.

1. The older parts of the Cemetary are recognizeable because the headstones there are usually upright land in a bunch of varied shapes and sizes. They don't stand in tidy rows, and some of them sink into the ground and tilt or fall over completely. Pieces break off all the time, too, and can get launched back at you with a weedwacker or damage the lawnmower blades, so they have to be moved.

2. A serious concern for maintainance workers is potentially being hit by falling stones, so when they fall down, they tend to stay down until they are paid for to be properly replaced or repaired. My mom said she knows a guy who died that way.

3. Some stones from the late 1800's have weird dog-looking figures carved in- those are lambs, and are put on christian children's graves. They look odd when they erode.

4. Some older graves will be homemade, or have countries of origin included. Some will simply say "baby", "mother", or "father".

5. Some headstones only have one date- those are typically for infants who didn't live long, or were stillborn. Sometimes they won't have names, either, but a few do.

6. When cleaning a headstone, first you now as close as you can through rows, then you go to each individual headstone with a weedwacker and remove whatever's been left to cut the grass down. Then, you put whatever isn't broken or a hazard back as close as you can, and take a leafblower to the whole place so the loose clippings don't end up sticking all over and looking terrible. This takes twice as long when there's a whole pile of stuff, so some places won't let you leave anything at all. I believe in finding a happy medium, but that's me.

7. Loads of local critters and wildlife use headstones and other constructs as shelter. I'm always keeping my eyes out for small birds, snakes, toads, etc- toads are the most common, I try to move them to nearby woods, bushes, or finished areas so they don't get cut or run over.

8. I don't know about anyone else, but I liked to talk to the folks sometimes. A simple 'hey nice flowers' or 'sup kiddo nice truck'. I think it might be cause I used to work with a morgue and it was easy to chat with the people who came in, but Idk. Dead people aren't nearly as eerie or creepy as TV makes them out- I guess it's a tiny bit sad, especially with kids, but like... what can you do, you know?

9. You gotta watch where you step, because some places- especially older ones- are FULL of small holes or sudden dips. These can be from animals, but more often graves that don't get enough dirt on top or super duper ancient ones where things have caved underground let the earth sink in over time. It leaves about a person-sized divot that's easy to trip on and needs extra attention.

10. Some people like to leave candy or bottled drinks for their loved ones. I.... understand the sentiment, but. It gets gross, over time, when the packages fade and split, and critters get in, so most places don't allow it or throw it out.

11. Wal-Mart knicknacks. Are the bane of my life. Little hollow statues that break and get full of wasps nests, wreaths made in China where the flowers pop off, five hundred individual fabric flowers stuck into the ground one-by-one that you have to painstakingly remove and put back every single time, with sharp rusty metal ends and wire cores that pull the equipment apart... just. Ugh. I understand, I do, and I get that it's not something people generally think about, but... just. Whatever you're thinking of leaving, give it a quick shake. If something comes loose, I can't recommend leaving it.

12. Some headstones are homemade by friends or family, with glass beads or shells in cement. Those are sweet,and I like to see them.

13. The back of your neck will burn. No amount of sunscreen will prevent it. I recommend a collared shirt, or tying a bandanna around your neck. There is nothing else you can do.

14. Your whole body will be covered in sweat. I wore jeans, boots, a tank top tucked in, and a sleeveless T over top, with a bandanna, safety goggles, and a hat. The jeans got sweaty every day, and rubbed my upper thighs red-raw after the first three weeks. The skin grew back dark and dry and I need to apply moisturizer constantly to avoid cracking. My old sunburns have turned, and some of the worst ones left strips of dry, papery, red scarring that took forever to fade. Again, moisturizer and sunscreen. Constantly. I still have a callous at the base of each finger on both palms.

15. Your whole body will sweat. Your whole body will be covered in grass clippings. Some will fly up your ears and nose. Sometimes tiny rocks will hit your shins and face and feel like bee stings. You have to towel off every couple hours and drink water damned often, because you will literally sweat full litres every day. You will attract flies. They will crawl on your skin. You will learn to ignore them, because at least they aren't mosquitos or ticks.

16. There is no bathroom. The men will disappear in the woods or behind a tree. I would go to the bathroom at home and just make sure I didn't drink more than I could sweat, I guess. I'd take the worst days of my period off and stay home because there was no way to deal with that on an eleven hour shift with no washroom break. Ta-da. I still worked longer and harder than most of the men, though, so whatever.

17. It's unskilled hard manual labour, and our group had no toilets and long hours. Most of our workers came fresh out of prison, but I can't speak for everybody. We were small town, no-union farmers and kids with free time, and most our new guys quit after a day or two. Literally. We had one dude three years younger and over half my size who showed up for 45 minutes before quitting.

18. Your fingers get stiff and hard to move, and your elbows and feet get sore. It took me a while to make it more than two days in a row without a breather day in between, but three and a half was my max. By the end of it I'd be stumbling, missing spots, irritable, sore, and tired. Given a day or two to get back on my feet, and all was good. But there were some older folks who'd been doing that work for thirty years without a day off, and Damn. They've got my respect.

19. The skin on your feet and hands gets hard like leather. Be ready for that.

20. The older guys, or whoever's worked there longer, will have stories about some of the graves. Special ones they're extra careful with, or spots where old school buddies or family is buried. I'd like to say we treat them all equal, but I guess you can't help but be a little more thorough for the young mom who's daughter just turned nine, or the baby from 1920, or the brothers who died in a house fire. It's like... we're supposed to die from old age, after living a full life, right? It sucks a little harder when you know someone didn't get to have that.

21. You can't work through rain or lightning. You see a strike overhead, you haul ass to the truck and see if you can wait it out. That shit'll blow the bark off a tree.

22. You lose weight, gain muscle, turn darker, and your hair bleaches out at the ends. After about a month I was five pounds lighter, with bigger biceps and shorter hair 'cause it was too hot to leave long.

23. Water grass. Is hell. It's thick, it grows fast, it loves rain, and it's a bitch to cut. It will grow a foot high in two weeks, I shit you not. You gotta come back two, three times a month to keep it down.

24. Hearing damage from not having proper protection is a noticeably advancing issue

Best part of the job: feeling yourself get stronger, seeing your work at the end of the day, plenty of time to think and daydream, regular eating and sleeping schedule, easy to save money because you have long hours and no time to spend anything.

Worst part: physical discomfort, aches and pains, the repetition makes it feel like an ordeal of Greek damnation, always exhausted, coworkers keep quitting.

I can't think of anything else right now but ill update if I can! Hope this was helpful!!! :D

[scribeofmorpheus]

Robin’s Girl [1/4]

Pairing: Robin x (OC) Clara | Steve Harrington x Reader

Sequel to: Meet Cute

Chapter Title: Cherry Bomb  | Words: 2k

Note: This takes place post S3. Some spoilers maybe? Highly recommend you listen to the playlist for the aesthetic. Two stories unfold at once. One focusing on Clara x Robin and the other on Steve x MeetCute!Reader

Playlist by Ari ♥

~

Steve watched the clock like a hawk, his leg getting jittery at the fact the seconds weren't ticking faster. When the long hand reached half passed, he chucked his work vest off and vaulted over the counter like some terrible ninja -shelf restaking be damned.

"Keys, keys, keys!" Steve energetically snapped his fingers at Robin who was still behind the video store counter closing up the till for next shift. She struggled to get out of her own work vest, fumbling with the zip as she chucked the keys at him.

"Alright, jeez Harrington." She said slightly annoyed at his nagging. He'd been hopping around like a rabbit on cocaine all day. Suffice to say, Robin was a little exhausted by his newfound energy.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Harrington persisted in hurried words, extending his hand for her.

Robin rolled her eyes as she sat on the counter and spun around. She took his outreached hand and Steve all but pulled her off the counter, sprinting to the car park on fumbling legs.

"Slow down, dingus!" Robin shouted in protest after nearly tripping twice.

Behind them, their boss was fuming, "Hey you still have three minutes on the clock!"

Steve had already backed his shitty replacement car out of the parking lot, knocking over a cardboard video store cut-out, and sped down the road -tires screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

"I swear to god Harrington, if you kill us… I'll be the most annoying ghost you've ever seen!" Robin promised.

Steve laughed as he fished his sunglasses from the glove compartment and jammed a tape into the car radio.

***

You stood by the bus station, two large suitcases parked next to you. You had a heart-shaped lollipop tucked in your cheek. The sun was kept at bay by your pair of cheesy heart-shaped sunglasses you won at a society bash in college. Music playing through your headphones connected to your Walkman, it barely held together thanks to the many cliché stickers taped around it. You were listening to your favourite mixtape. It was a travel mix Steve gave you before you left for college.

The sound of tires screeching a few feet in front of you alerted you of the fact your favourite human was finally here. A big goofy grin swept across your slightly tanned face as you all but jumped up and ran towards him -dropping your walkman and headphones. Steve hopped out of his car and met you halfway, leaving his car door open. Unbeknownst to him, the car started to roll the instant he picked you up in a bone-crushing hug, twirling you around like you weighed nothing. The girl sat in his car panicked for a brief moment before sliding into the driver’s seat and hitting the brakes.

"God damn it, Harrington!" She shouted after him as she put the car in park.

"Hey, gorgeous..." Steve muttered into your ear ignoring the fact he had almost crashed his car without him in it.

"Hey yourself," you cooed as your noses were a hair's breadth away.

"Well," Steve tilted his head to the side causing that stubborn curl you loved to bounce about, "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

You stood on your tippy-toes and nuzzled closer to him, "Abso-freaking-lutely!"

Your lips locked for the first time in ages and by god did it feel just as nerve tingly and electric as you remember. His tongue coaxed a giddy sigh from your throat as you let the feeling of homecoming wash over you.

Robin pressed down on the horn after snatching Steve's second pair of sunglasses from the glove box, "Hey lovebirds, don't we have another stop to make before you eat each other's faces off?"

Steve’s thumb nudged his nose as he took a slight exasperated inhale, "You see what I've had to deal with while you were away?" He said softly.

You giggled, dusting off your walkman as you pulled one suitcase while Steve got the other, "It seems to me Harrington, she's the one keeping you functional." You teased.

"The apple of my eye wounds me!" He protested dramatically. When Steve shooed Robin to the back, he introduced you. "Robin this is Y/N. Y/N, Robin."

Robin rolled her eyes, "And here I thought you were smacking lips with a complete stranger." She retorted sarcastically before beaming a warm smile your way. "It's great to finally meet you. Steve has told me everything about you. None stop. All the time. It drives me crazy."

"Likewise," you winked back.

***

"Thanks for the ride," Clara hollered at the truck driver as she jumped off, duffle bag slung across her shoulder. The truck driver honked twice before re-joining the main road.

Clara looked up at the signpost welcoming her back to Hawkins. She blew a large bubble with her tutti-frutti flavoured gum and it erupted with a satisfying pop noise. "The end of nowhere… Home, sweet home."

Clara trekked along the side of the road, her Docs clomping loudly against the tarmac. The summer heat was bearing down on her in all its glory, so she shrugged off her leather jacket and stuffed it into her duffle bag before taking off her red and blue flannel shirt and tying it around the waistband of her ripped jeans.

Clara fixed the ray bans that rested on the crown of her head back onto her eyes, lowering a purple filter over the world. The blue tips of her hair flying wildly with the wind. She could just make out a shitty car driving down towards her. Her favourite song blaring out the windows as she caught sight of her best friend's head hanging out the window -hair blowing furiously. In the driver's seat, her boyfriend smiled like an idiot and seated in the back seat was another girl. She looked familiar; pretty, big eyes and wearing a mickey mouse shirt. Clara smirked at that.

The car pulled over and her best friend slid out the window, rather than open the door like a damn normal person, and nearly knocked her over in an energetic hug.

"Clara! I've missed you, you bone head!" She said in a high squeak.

"Hey, goofball! I love you from here to the moon, but you're blocking the oxygen to my brain..." Clara dramatically wheezed. "I see you've brought your security blanket with." Clara waved with one hand at Steve. He waved out his window.

"Don’t be jealous, you know you are still my favourite moody security blanket. Steve is just a better cuddler, is all." Y/N smacked her arm playfully. "Come on, let's get you out of this heat and to some frosty beverages!"

"About damn time! My mascara was about to melt off my face!" Clara joked as she walked arm linked in arm with her best friend back to the car.

Clara tossed her duffle bag in the trunk and hopped in beside the new girl.

"Clara," she offered her hand adorned with too many concert bands and cheap rings.

The girl took one look at the name on Clara's band shirt and smiled with recognition, "Robin." She said as she shook her hand.

"I know," Clara said with cheek. "We were in band together. I looked different then. I wore more denim, less leather. My hair was blonde then too."

Robin pulled her mouth to the side in thought until it finally clicked, "Your hair was longer and you always got in trouble for taking over practice with your drum solo's!" She pointed out in recognition.

"And you played the trombone!" Clara said.

"Look at that, honey. I didn't have to introduce the kids to each other!" Steve joked in a motherly tone.

"Mr Perfect Hair! I see you haven't gotten a haircut yet." Clara retorted with spunk as she smacked Steve's chest a little too hard. He let out an 'oof' sound. "So, King Steve, still scooping ice-cream?"

"Ha-ha!" He laughed sarcastically. "You keep being such a smart ass and I won’t be your designated free ride into town anymore."

Clara gave him the bird and Steve returned it. The atmosphere familiar and chipper.

"Onwards Captain, to the milkshake parlour!" Y/N ordered with childish excitement.

***

"Anyone got a quarter?" Clara asked at the booth. Her plate was wiped clean, the only remnant of food was the random splodge of ketchup and amount of salt. She sucked down on her vanilla shake while giving her friends the puppy dog eye look.

Steve removed his arm from around Y/N's shoulders and patted down his pockets then gave her a frown, "Sadly I spent my last bit of change on the photo booth with this silly goose," he chimed, tickling Y/N's sides until she turned red from giggling too much. She squirmed about like a sugar high toddler, shrinking lower into the seat to try and get away from Steve's frisky hands.

Clara and Robin both let out sighs as they rolled their eyes in unison.

Robin tossed a French fry at Steve, "Get a room you two!"

Clara winked at her with approval, stealing two fries in the process.

"Hey, that's theft buddy," Robin tutted as she whacked Clara's hand lightly. "You better be willing to pay for those."

"I'll make it up to you," Clara smirked, her tone much more sonorous than before.

Y/N flickered her eyes to her best friend, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. A wicked smile playing across her face when she noticed Clara's flirting tone. Steve finally let up with his tickle attack and Y/N's giggled died out as she took a slurp of her near finished shake.

Clara clicked her tongue with a bit of cheek, averting her eyes to play things smooth. Robin reached into her shorts and pulled out a row of quarters.

"Here," she offered Clara with reddened cheeks.

"Thanks, babe." She said without thinking twice. Clara waltzed over to the jukebox and queued *Cherry Bomb*.

As the music swelled, she bobbed her head, hair swaying around her face, doing an awkward shimmy dance. Steve bobbed his head slightly as he and Y/N started thumb wrestling.

"If I win Harrington," She said with a serious expression. "We're having a zombie movie marathon!"

"And if I win, we're spending date night holed up on my couch while I babysit Henderson and the rest of those little troopers!" Steve scoffed.

"Sounds like an excuse to make out," Robin remarked to herself as she took a swig of her cherry cola.

Clara reached her hands out by their booth, "Come on you disgustingly sweet muppets, come dance with me!"

Y/N held up one finger from her free hand, "One sec, I gotta win this!" Her tongue stuck out as she tried to focus her efforts on keeping Steve's thumb off hers.

"Killjoys!" Clara boo'd before turning to Robin and hooking two fingers. "Come on, Robin! Let's show these boring wet blankets how to have fun!"

Robin stalled for a moment and then skittishly scooched out of the booth. Clara fearlessly grabbed her hands and shook them about, they looked like two graceless gazelles learning to walk. The room filled with laughs and huffs as other people looked over to the two giddy girls letting loose.

Once the song ended they returned to the booth. Y/N was nursing a half-moon frown, evidence that she lost the thumb war.

"Don't be such a sore loser, goofball." Clara teased.

Y/N pouted even more, until Steve showered her cheek with loud kisses, making her blush all over again.

"So, Steve told me you went on tour with a band?" Robin asked with attentive eyes, her head resting on her laced fingers.

"Mm-Hmmm!" Clara hummed as she hungrily sucked down the last of her milkshake. Y/N noticed how thirsty she still was and slid her milkshake in offering. Clara nodded a thank you and turned back to Robin. "I was a roadie. Played drums on some gigs. I got my first tattoo to commemorate my first big city gig. The lead drummer got food poisoning so I stepped up."

"You got a freaking tattoo without telling me?" Y/N nearly toppled the drinks over when her knee jerked into the table with surprise. "We promised to get our first tattoos together."

Clara shrugged, "It was a heat of the moment thing. I'll still be with you when you get your first one…" she eyed her best friend knowingly. "If you ever get one."

"Let's see it?" Steve urged her.

Clara rolled up her t-shirt sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a smartly inked dandelion.

"Huh," Steve said unimpressed. "I was expecting a skull or one of those barbed wire tattoo's most of the band members’ have."

Clara let out a huff of air, "The name of the club I played in was called the Black Dandelion. It seemed sporting. And not too complicated. Besides, how did you know the band members have those exact tattoos?"

"What?" Steve sounded offended. "I read… occasionally."  

"I can't wait to get out of Hawkins. After everything, seeing a big city would be a breath of fresh air," Robin mused dreamily.

"Hawkins is alright if you're like twelve or a middle-aged suburban housewife, but trust me when I tell you nothing beats playing in a big city. The energy, the colour… the music! You guys would love it!" Clara beamed.

"I know what you mean. The vibe of my campus is just so much more different than anything else around here," Y/N added. "Steve I know you'd just love the energy there, plus we could even get an apartment together, take the subway into town, see concerts--"

Steve shut her up by placing an unexpected kiss on her lips, "Easy there, tiger. You've barely been here a couple of hours. Let's leave the college application discussion for another day." He kept his finger under her chin while her lips stayed agape.

"Fine, you may have thwarted my attempts today, but we will talk about this," she promised.

Clara and Robin ignored them as they talked about their time in band and all the things they had in common.

***

Steve waited for Y/N to return from her house with a small overnight bag. Clara was drumming a tune on her exposed knee while absentmindedly listening to the radio. Robin yawned as she kept her head out the window.

When Y/N returned, she had a large grin on her face. "Okay, my parents think I'm staying over at Clara's!"

"Aren't you two a little too old to be playing the 'I'm staying at a friend’s house when I'm actually sneaking off to spend the night at my boyfriend’s empty house' routine?" Clara said with air quotes.

"No one ever outgrows mischief, Clara." Y/N lectured. "You simply perfect it."

"Let me know when you do!" Clara snorted, making Robin titter as well.

***

Once Clara had been dropped at her house, she unlocked the front door using the secret hide-away key stored under the porch frog. Her parents were out on holiday in Hawaii so she had the whole house pretty much to herself.

After putting on the tea kettle, Clara perused through the bookshelf looking for her high school yearbook. When she found it, she flipped through the pages looking for one person in particular: the beguiling and funny spirited Robin.

"Bingo!" She said in triumph when she spotted her class photo. She giggled at the innocent girl in the photograph with braces and a high ponytail. Clara hoped it wasn't her imagination playing tricks on her because she could have sworn she felt something click between her and Robin. "Robin… cute name."

***

Steve raced to keep up with his bubbly girlfriend as she burst through the front doors of his house.

"Slow down, Y/N!" He panted out after she challenged him to a race to see who could get to his house from the driveway the fasted.

"I win! You lose!" She did a little victory dance. "Now go make that popcorn while I set up the VHS!"

Steve groaned, "Fine, but we're only watching one movie. I haven't seen you in forever and I need my mandatory cuddles."

"If you behave, you'll get cuddles and a little surprise..." she teased flirtatiously.

"Popcorn! Coming up!" He ran to the kitchen with newfound energy.

***

Next Chapter Presents: Rollerskates and Cheap Dates!

If you enjoyed this story don’t be afraid to like, reblog or comment. I don’t bite. Also, taglist is open just send an ask.

 Tags:  @theconscientiouswriter @chims-kookies @electroma89 @thechickvic @gruffle1  @notawarriorjustyet @mochminnie