#maybe on top of that fear he thinks that they’re cowards?

[caravanlurker]

my first few takes on Demacian Kled! Skaarl as a weird petricite golem and the funny yordle

another one where it’s a ram hound and he resembles more of a soldier/elite but, not as cohesive

I liked the idea that instead of a slice, his right eye went bad due to some magical attack one day. Demacia is very defensive to the outside iirc, so his territorial-ness still works in a new way in the context of the region (???). I don’t think he’d be a mage seeker but the masks looks nice on him

I’ll tighten up his design more later, and maybe region-swap some other guys. who knows? pffffffff

[keen-li]

What you need | 04

Synopsis: everybody needs, but how do you define need? Do you even know what you need.

Genre: best friends au, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn.

Jungkook x fem reader.

Wc: 3.5k

Warning: not proof read.

Prev | next

-

You can be mad at Jungkook for many reasons, but not for when he tells the truth. It’s not that you’re really mad at him; you’re mad at the fact that he was right. The truth is a huge pill to swallow, and you’ve got the smallest throat in the world.

Jungkook calls you stubborn, but you call yourself strong-willed—strong-willed to avoid the truth and advice, especially from Jungkook. He dishes out honesty quite well; every one of your friends does.

Like in any other friendship, your stubbornness tends to cause you and Jungkook to butt heads. But he’s learned to navigate around it, and one way is to let you be. Talking to you while you’re in a mood never gets anywhere. That’s what he did last night, and the guilt ate him raw.

He’ll wait for you to talk to him, and wait he will. But it’s never for long.

“You don’t have the chocolate ones?” Your gaze avoids him as you ask. You've been avoiding eye contact all morning, and it's been difficult considering you've been bumping into him while trying to make breakfast—a breakfast he would have gladly made for you.

Childish is what you assume Jungkook is thinking, but he should be well aware of how childish you are. In addition to being childish, you have an intense fear of confrontation. You’d rather hide than tend to an issue of importance; it’s easier.

Jungkook doesn't see it that way. He prefers to deal with things as they arise, especially when it comes to a dispute between you both. But that’s not to say he’s perfect; he can be a coward too, though he leans toward not letting it show.

Your body is turned away from him but still standing close, wanting to feel his warmth—something to remind you that he doesn’t completely hate you for lashing out. He gets you; he hopes you know it.

Jungkook’s eyes scan his kitchen shelves in search of that chocolate cereal you love. He got it for when you come over. He’s not a huge fan of it; they always stay on the same shelf, the one above where he stands. “They’re here.” He leans over to reach the top shelf where they were in plain sight. Contemplating whether you actually didn’t know or you wanted to fill the awkward air between the two of you, he hands the box to you.

You mumble a little thank you as he hands it to you. His hand lingers on the box a second longer as he considers being the one to start talking. He’s waiting for you, sure, but he’s also aware of how hard it is for you to address even the most minuscule of conflicts.

Your night was cold, like your recent previous nights. Even though Jungkook made sure you had the thickest blanket he owned, it wouldn’t be fair to blame it on the weather because it’s warm outside, even at night. Blaming his air conditioner wouldn’t be fair either; Jungkook gives you all the freedom to turn it up or down.

Maybe it’s the fact that you went to sleep ‘mad’ at Jungkook or yourself. The line is very blurry when it comes to who gets the blame. That’s your thought process.

You know Jungkook, and you’re well aware he won’t talk to you unless you speak to him first. You’re sure he feels bad in some way, and you feel bad for it. He shouldn’t feel bad; he was right. Why the heck are you even blaming him?

So, after a large gulp down the rock, you decide to break the awkward and painful silence. “Are you mad?” It comes out as a whisper, and he barely hears it.

Jungkook is quick to hear the mumbling from you but can't quite comprehend the sound. "Huh?” He turns to you, faced away from him, which adds to his confusion. Are you talking to him or not?

“I’m asking if you’re upset?” You try to make it louder, but it’s just as low as before. Why do you get so timid? You hate confrontation so much.

Jungkook chuckles, and for a moment, you feel like he’s mocking you, but it’s far from his intention. You’re just amusing when you behave like this. “Y/N, I can’t hear you,” he states in a volume you should try to emulate.

“Don’t tell me you can’t look at me.” He turns back to his breakfast, which he abandoned to attend to you. “And when I tell you you’re like a baby, you want to disagree?” He smiles to himself. One thing Jungkook is never going to do is force you to do something.

“I’m not,” you try to argue as you finally turn to him, but he doesn’t do

the same this time, too focused on his food. A smirk lines his lips perfectly, and faint dimples adorn his cheeks. Is he relishing in this?

“Look at how you were cowering away like I was gonna bite you.” He spreads butter on his toast, unlike you, who prefers not to have bread in toast form for breakfast.

The air thins, and you feel more relaxed to just speak. In exchange for anxiety, sadness sets in. You pout.

“Sorry,” you mumble. He’s aware of what you mean, and it’s funny how quickly and shyly you say it.

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head at you. Once the silence sinks in again, Jungkook decides to help you. “Tell me. What did you want to say?” His soft voice ushers you on, along with his relaxed body turned toward you.

“I was asking if you’re upset.” You lean against his counter and bite down on your lower lip—an act to hide from Jungkook's gaze?

He furrows his brows in confusion. His breakfast can wait. He walks to you and stops when his feet hit yours. Placing his hands on his hips, he asks, “Upset with who? You?” His body towers over you, and you feel his soft eyes analyze your features.

When you nod, he smiles and moves in to wrap his arms around you. “Awh, bunny,” he coos, taking your face into his palms.

“I’m not mad at you; if anything, I’m more upset with myself.”

“Why would you be mad at yourself? I was wrong.” Your voice is soft and regretful. The last person on this earth you’d want to argue with is Jungkook, and you hate it when you do. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to get mad.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve phrased myself better.” He looks down at you, and when you realize just how close you are, you scoot away a bit. Jungkook catches it and slowly lets you go. Awkwardness sets in, but this time it’s in a different form—a form bearing the image of your ex.

You’re comfortable with Jungkook, and you’ll say that a million times, but something about being so close to him makes you think about being with Yunho. Yunho had always been the person you ran to when you weren’t okay (while you were together), and he’d hold you just like that. His loving eyes looking down at you, his warmth keeping you closer to him on colder or lonely days. But since you broke up, Jungkook has been the one to be there for you like always. Maybe it’s because you can’t get Yunho out of your head; you’ve been missing him of late, and it’s messing with your mind. You haven’t been able to go back to the way you were; that’s probably the reason. You just hope Jungkook can realize that.

You hope you get your act together soon. You'd hate to see Yunho on the face of every man who cares about you, especially on Jungkook's.

“You’re entitled to your feelings; don’t ever apologize for that.” Jungkook, now feeling a shift in warmth, turns to his now cold toast. If he puts it back in the toaster, it’ll go back to being warm, right?

“So, you’re not mad?”

He shakes his head. “But I am mad that you make me buy those for you.” His tone and the air around you shift back to playful, and the smile on his face makes you smile as well.

You giggle. “And you’re cute for it.”

“You’re gonna have to pay me back one day for how much I’ve spent.”

You place your hand on your heart in feigned patriotism to your words. “And I’ll give you back every penny.”

Jungkook laughs, knowing he wouldn’t take them anyway. He enjoys buying them for you.

Life really knows how to bring you back to reality, and it does seem to enjoy seeing you unhappy.

“If you won’t make it, it’s fine,” you speak to Jungkook through your phone. The call has lasted longer than it should because he can’t stop apologizing. “Jungkook, if you can’t make it, it’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” Your eyes recognize the words on your paper, but you aren't paying them any mind.

“Are you saying lunch with me is not that big of a deal, Y/L/N?”

Ever since you two started eating lunch together, you’ve never missed a day, but today is different. Jungkook informed you he had some extra work that would overlap with your planned schedule, so you would be having lunch by yourself. And that’s fine.

You don’t mind at all; it’s not like it’s on purpose. Of course,

you do enjoy eating lunch with him, and you are sad about not having him around for the lunch you might not eat. But it’s life, and sooner or later, you two will be consumed with responsibilities that you won’t be able to hang out at all. You don’t like the thought of it, but you have to acknowledge the possibility.

You had a taste of it when you were in a relationship with Yunho. You and Jungkook didn’t hang out as much, and your teasing was reduced to respect your relationship. It’s only a matter of time before Jungkook gets a girlfriend, and you have to spend less time together. A girlfriend to share things with—or you will get a boyfriend, or at least a fling.

It may seem like you’re bad friends, but it’s not that way. Even if either of you were in a relationship, you’d still hang out and call each other; that wouldn’t change. It’s not like you’re only friends when you’re both single. But it’s obvious that when one is in a relationship, their time will be cut down compared to when they were single. And that’s okay; it’s not something you fret over, like you and Jungkook will stop being friends. Never.

Jungkook definitely understood and respected your relationship when you were with Yunho, and you still found time to hang out. Besides, all this applies to Willoe and Jimin as well. Even though it seems like you’re paired off, you’re all still friends in the same way.

You do tend to wonder what it’ll be like when Jungkook gets a girlfriend, though. Over your years of friendship, he has had some flings and situationships, but he’s never had a relationship that involved him being emotionally attached. He’s not a player in any sort of way; he wouldn’t toy with a girl’s heart. He just never made an emotional commitment to them, which he made known to them. He always made it clear that he wasn’t into relationships. Maybe he’s non-committal? He’s never really taken the time to sit down and think about it. But he’s well aware that, for some reason, he’s not looking for a relationship, and lately, even sexual relationships haven’t been on his mind.

You chuckle. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Playing with the pen in your hand, you contemplate even going for lunch. You do have work too, though it’s something that can wait. Plus, you don’t feel hungry anyway. This was one of the reasons you liked going for lunch with Jungkook. Apart from getting to hang out with him, it kept you eating. If Jungkook is there, you are forced to eat and not get distracted. Because eating alone will lead you to have unwarranted thoughts about Yunho, and you’d end up losing your appetite. You won’t deny how your lunches are the only time you eat a proper meal. At home, when you’re alone, all you eat is snacks.

“I know,” you aren’t able to see it, but on the other side, an angry and short Isabel signals for Jungkook to get off the phone. He furrows his brows at her. “Anyway, I’ll call you later. Sorry for not being able to make it.”

There he goes again. You smile. In the background, you can hear a female voice call his name in a warning tone, and by his rushed words, you can tell he’s on borrowed time. He would’ve ended this call long ago, but he enjoys dragging them out.

“Cut the call, Jungkook.” You want him to as well, and he can’t help but pout at how everyone wants him to end his call.

“I will. Don’t forget to eat your lunch.”

“I will.”

You won’t.

Soon the line beeps, and you’re left with his contact to look at and the candid picture of him you took. You doubt he's aware of its existence. If he saw it, he'd make you delete it and put a 'better one.' But it's cute, and you like it.

The smile you have on your face is wiped off when you’re met with Hoseok’s looming figure. Now, when you look at it, why is his figure more noticeable now?

“Not going for lunch?” he asks in a tone you can’t decipher the intention behind.

You start to arrange the papers on your desk for no reason and in no particular order. “No.”

“Why?” he shoots back immediately.

You sigh as you look at him. You did want to hurl back a snarky comment, but you’re running low on energy. “Not hungry.”

“Shame.” He says, and you prepare yourself for what he wants to say. “The boss wanted to have lunch with you, but since you’re not hungry, I’ll tell—”

“When did I say I wasn’t hungry?” He’s about

to argue, and you see it on his face, but you step in before he can say anything.

“He wants to have lunch with me for real?” You stand and eye him skeptically.

Hoseok nods, not much enthusiasm behind it.

You stare at him with an I-hope-you-aren’t-lying look.

Hoseok loves to mess with you, but the good thing about him is that he knows when not to.

“Go see for yourself.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies of nervousness as you walk, your previous worries forgotten. You turn to give Hoseok a last look, and he shrugs.

It would be a big deal for you if your boss wanted to have lunch with you. This means a lot.

Who are you kidding? You’re starving.

“Again?” you groan.

Jungkook pulls at his lip before he speaks. “I know.” He sighs. “There’s a lot of work here for some reason.” He explains.

It’s been several days, and the weekend approaches, yet you two still haven’t been able to have lunch together. It’s life; you accept that, but it��s still such a bummer. Plus, you’ve been meaning to talk to Jungkook about something—maybe tell him why you and Yunho actually broke up.

You’ve been reflecting on it, and maybe after you talk to him about it, you’ll stop thinking about Yunho.

“It's alright,” you say with a sad pout. Jungkook can feel it through the phone, and it breaks his heart. “Wanted to talk to you,” you say, and Jungkook shifts his feet that were stationary on the cement floors of the workshop.

The air shifts, and concern grows at your tone. “About?” he waits for your answer, which he already knows.

“Yunho.” It’s through a heavy heart and a sour throat that you’re even able to say his name. “But since you’re busy, it’s fine; we can talk when you’re free.”

“Yeah, sure.” He is worried, but there’s nothing much he can do in this moment, and he knows it’s not something that can be talked about on the phone, especially when you’re both at work. So, he makes an internal promise to make time for you.

“Talk to you later,” you say, your voice far from okay.

“I haven’t seen her in a week and some days,” Jungkook informs, his mind still in thought. “Plus, I don’t think it’s the best time to tell her; it seems like she’s still hung up on him.”

Of course, you are; it’s only been what? A month?

“Yeah, Willoe was talking to her yesterday, and I think I heard her crying.” He follows up, explaining that he hasn’t had the time to call you yet.

Jungkook’s heart physically drops, and his friend can clearly see that.

“Must not be easy keeping that secret from her.” Jungkook leans back into his couch, clearly disturbed.

It’s definitely hard keeping anything from you, but this, especially, has taken a toll on him. A whole month? He never thought he’d keep something from you for this long. Does he even want to tell you? Keeping it is killing him, but the thought of you knowing and seeing what it might do to you kills him even more. To make it worse, it’s been more evident lately that you’ve been thinking about the bastard. He can tell when you do.

You space out and just forget everything around you. And that sad look on your face isn’t missed by him. He wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better, but there’s only so much he can do. Plus, Isabel has him doing extra hours at work, which has just made your time spent together less. He can only imagine how alone you’ve felt.

He knows you’ve got Willoe and Jimin, but for some reason, you’ve all been busy. Jimin is trying to get down on a project he’s on, Willoe is out on a work trip, and he himself is working overtime. He knows you’ve been busy too, especially with trying to get your promotion. You’re only able to call each other on the phone. And sometimes those calls aren’t guaranteed because when he’s heading home from work, you’re asleep.

Or ignoring him. He chuckles; he knows you’d never seriously ignore him.

“It pisses me off every time I think about it, man.” Jungkook positions the camera so Jimin can see him. “Did I tell you I fucking punched him?” Jungkook smiles at the memory.

Jimin raises his brows in shock. “Seriously?” Jimin laughs at the thought. “You should’ve told me so that I could get my fair share too.”

Jungkook laughs. He takes a drink of his beer.

And with that, he’s reminded of the weighty task ahead—telling you about taking a swing at your ex-boyfriend. If he had to break the news to someone else that their boyfriend was cheating, it would be straightforward. But with you, it feels like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. The thought of seeing the pain in your eyes causes him physical anguish. Over the years, you’ve become someone incredibly special to him, and the idea of you suffering cuts deeper than he ever expected. He’s never cared for anyone the way he cares for you.

“You’re gonna tell her, though?” Jungkook scoffs, trying to mask his uncertainty as he sees his blond friend raise an eyebrow at him.

“I will,” he replies, but the conviction in his voice falters. Jimin can see right through him, and that gnawing doubt eats away at Jungkook. He knows he has your best interests at heart, but the last thing he wants to do is hurt you further. The thought of you finding out about Yunho’s betrayal sends a chill down his spine.

Jimin shakes his head, concern etched across his face. “I feel so bad for her,” he says, knowing he’d never voice that sentiment to you directly, aware of how much you despise pity. “She said she’s taking a break from dating, so I hope that helps her.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, but the relief is fleeting. “Don’t tell Willoe, though,” he says, his voice dropping as if speaking the name might summon trouble.

“Really?” Jimin’s tone rises, incredulous.

Jungkook shoots him a warning glare, and Jimin rolls his eyes in response. “Fine, I won’t tell her.”

“Don’t. If she knows, then Y/N will automatically find out,” Jungkook insists, the urgency in his voice palpable.

Jimin nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Gotta go now,” he says, glancing at his watch. Jungkook’s attention drifts to his phone, where a message from work blinks at him.

“Hey, they need me at work,” he mutters, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.

“Alright, it was nice talking to you,” Jimin replies, but Jungkook can hear the underlying concern.

Jungkook pauses, feeling the sincerity of the moment weigh down on him. “So sincere, gross,” he retorts, trying to lighten the mood, but it falls flat.

“Just say it back,” Jimin presses, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

“Fine. It was nice chilling with you too, Jimin.” He cringes at the words, the smug smile on Jimin’s face only amplifying his discomfort.

“Love you,” Jimin says, half-joking, but the sentiment hangs in the air like an unspoken truth.

“Don’t push it,” Jungkook replies, though the words feel hollow. Jimin laughs, but Jungkook knows he would never say it back. “But if I were Y/N, you would’ve said it back,” Jimin teases, and Jungkook’s heart sinks further.

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

As he leans back into his couch, a storm of thoughts churns in his mind. He contemplates the idea of telling you, but the fear grips him. You’ve gone a month without knowing the truth—what could a little more time do? He wrestles with the notion that he should wait until you’re more healed, but each passing moment feels like a betrayal in itself. The longer he holds back, the more he feels he’s complicit in Yunho’s deceit.

What if you never truly heal? What if you deserve to know the truth now? The internal conflict rages within him. He knows he has to make a decision soon, but right now, he can’t shake the feeling that revealing the truth would only add to your pain.

The clock ticks in the background, and Jungkook knows he can’t ignore this forever. The question lingers: when is the right time to shatter your world and reveal the truth?

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

a/n: writing this chapter has been a rollercoaster for me, from the lack of motivation and inspiration to the elephant in the room which is the fact that this was supposed to be 20k words long. sigh. from 20k to 3k

I had so much written and in a way I loved but I don't know what happened and the file got lost. and because of that I lost a lot of motivation and just wanted to be over with the chapter.

sorry for the shitty chapter, the following will be better. please don't let this chapter or the previous be your impression of this series. it's gonna get better. love y'all and thanks for the support and patience. (if you were even waiting lol)

Tagged: @jksusawife@mother2monsters@gimeow

[rodolfoparras]

So in SSKTJL, the suicide squad gets infected with Fear Gas because of Batman

For context, Fear Gas is a gas created by Scarecrow or Johnathan Crane, and when inhaled, you live through your worst fears until worn off.

And Digger's worst fear is everyone leaving him behind, being unwanted and forgotten. In the scene, George talks to himself, saying they've probably already left him. Calling himself a loser and and a coward and shit. He sees "NOT WANTED" posters of himself hung up around

(I can't do this anymore, bro)

What if Reader's worst fear was watching all of his friends/teammates die and losing them all🥰

Running around trying to listen to Harley's advice (because she knows Scarecrow and the toxin) but he just keeps hearing his friends scream for help and their bodies everywhere but he's literally unable to help them, because they're not fucking real but it's scary asf

And once it's all over, Reader is all over Digger the rest of the night. They're the closest, so it's already not that weird, but he's literally not giving Digger a MOMENT of peace. a hand on that man the entire time, following him everywhere, fucking sleeps on top of him to try and keep him safe

Mumbles to him all night about being scared of losing him and how much he cares about him and Digger's just "🧍‍♂️wut?" Because he genuinely believes that despite working with the team, he's very easily disposable and they could all replace him but don't because of Waller

Reader ramping up his affection for Digger after that because he's not gonna let him think that shit??

Idk where I'm going with this but I love him so much. Just wanna play with his hair and kiss his face 😞

-🐧

Cw: tooth rotting fluff, x male reader

Okay but thinking about you being unable to calm down even though the gas has long stopped having effect, even though you’re back in your current reality with all your friends where they’re all very much alive and doing well but no matter what they say or do you just can’t calm down

It’s like you’re still stuck in that place, watching all your friends die in front of you without being able to do anything, and Digger being Digger starts joking around, telling the rest of the team how they should just knock you out to make sure you get to sleep through the night.

But his words turn into squeaks as you pull him into a bruising grip, his head shoved into your chest, and your arms locked in an iron grip around his waist.

Unintelligible sounds escape his lips as he tries to push you away from him but you don’t budge an inch, if anything you hold him tighter, nuzzling your face into his honey blonde locks and inhaling his scent, and for once you actually seem to relax.

“Uh hello big guy? cant breathe here,” the sound of Digger’s strained voice sends the whole squad into fits of laughter, with them even making comments about how you’re his responsibility for the night before splitting up to get some rest.

“Alright alright that’s enough” digger says as he finally breaks out of your embrace “jeez I know I’m a lovable guy but even that was a bit too much eh?” Digger says, clearly being sarcastic as he proceeds to prepare his make shift bed.

He doesn’t even get to lay down properly before you’re on top of him, your body weight pinning him in place an arm once again locked around his waist.

“God dammit,” Digger grunts out as his back meets the harsh impact of the ground. “What’s with you tonight eh? Gas scared you that bad? What did you even see?”

And maybe it’s the hint of concern in his voice or it’s the exhaustion from todays events, but you decide to tell you him what you saw earlier today.

Surprisingly enough, Digger listens intently to every word you have to say, at some point you think he’s fallen asleep or spaced out because it’s so unusual for him to not interrupt but when you look up, you see the very much focused look on his face as he continues to listen to you.

Once you’re done speaking you peer up at him - only to be met with the sight of his furrowed brows as he worries his bottom lip.

This time it’s your turn to ask what’s on his mind, digger doesn’t waste a second before he starts to explain, telling you how he can understand why you’d be worried about losing king shark- he was a great asset to the team - or Harley - she was a smart cookie or dead shot - look at his name! who wouldn’t want a guy like that on his team ? but he can’t understand why you’d be worried about losing him.

He doesn’t say it in a self deprecating way, but rather as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if he’s speaking of the way the sun is bound to rise tomorrow and maybe that hurts more than if he were to say it in a self deprecating tone.

You’re swift to rise up, knocking the air out of his lungs as you go on a tangent about how of course he’s an important part of the team, promptly mentioning the many times he’s saved your ass or saved another member of the team, the many times he’d been the reason as to why they succeeded in whatever mission you were doing.

By the time you’re done you’re all out of breath, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace hands still hanging in the air and staring wide eyed at the Aussie man.

“Alright alright big guy I get it,” he says, now sporting a blush on his face and avoiding your gaze while bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on the ol’ captain” Digger say with somewhat of a forced chuckle , and peers up at you beneath soft blonde lashes.

“Maybe I do,” you shrug.

“Wha-“

“Sleep digger, we have a long day tomorrow no?” You say, suddenly laying down again and pulling him into your arms before he can protest. You can hear him cursing under his breath but he doesn’t do anything to try and get out of your embrace. “Goodnight captain” you say with a smile on your face.

“Goodnight” he grumbles back as he tightens his hold on your waist.

[senpiecakes]

A Love Not Meant to Be: Childe

Notes: I saw this in my drafts, and I haven't posted anything in this series for a while so I was like 'fuck it, I'm gonna finish it.' (lowkey this made me cry while I listened to the song)

Summary: Hated by everyone, loved by you.

Theme/s: GN!Reader, Angst No Comfort, the world hates you both

Warning/s: Some very mean words from the world. That's about it.

Once More to See You by Mitski

5.5k Words

“I’ll protect you.”

Childe is known to be protective of those he loves. He goes out of his way to spin elaborate lies for his youngest brother to protect his innocence, he makes sure to keep his whole family out of harm's way because of his job, and he will strike down any enemy that dares to threaten his loved ones. In all of that, there was you. You loved Childe dearly, and it was clear he had the same feelings for you. Childe shows you off to his subordinates, pampers you with his wealth and makes sure you’re top priority always. That included your safety. Everywhere you went, bodyguards kept a close distance, if you were out with Childe, he’d keep a secure arm around you, even at home he’d make sure you’re safe- especially when you’re alone. All that you could trust him in. Childe only sees threats in the form of enemies, never in the common folk that walk with you in the streets day to day. 

‘There goes that Fatui’s hound.’

‘Can you believe they’re actually WITH a Harbinger?’

‘I bet you they’re kidnapped or blackmailed.’

Everyday, hushed voices would throw scorn at you and Childe as you passed. You knew of the world’s disdain for the Fatui but you also knew Childe. He was sweet, caring, protective and you knew in your heart he would never hurt you. But you were also aware of his reputation; his strength in battle, his ability to harm warranted or not, his sworn duty to an Archon planning to rid the world of Gods. It was only fair of people to have their opinions about Childe. But you knew deep down how much the man can love- if the rest of the world saw him through your eyes, maybe their opinions of him would change. People feared him, but they had the gall to throw their cowardly vices towards you.

Some days, you tell your bodyguards to lay back for a while, that you can handle yourself while you grocery shop. Despite your commands, they follow you. On those days when you appear to be alone, people made it clear how much they truly hated the man you loved. They would be more vocal about their jeers, going as far as to tell you directly that you should be ashamed for being with him. You’d defend Childe with all that you can and that usually results in many unsavory exchanges.

People refusing to sell you things in fear that Childe may target them, some barring you from their business with the most ridiculous reasons, others even outright mocking you. That’s when your bodyguards step in and you fear that it only escalates things further- that you had to be kept within a wall.

‘I knew you’re a coward, hiding behind that Fatui freak.’

You don’t really think much about these encounters, never speaking a word about it to Childe until your bodyguards inform him of all that’s happened.

“Do you want me to deal with them?” He asks you one night.

“What? No! I can handle myself.” You say.

“Well, alright. Just tell me if anything else happens, okay?”

In truth, you knew if Childe stepped in it would make things worse. You didn’t want him to shoulder all the weight and responsibility of keeping those he loved safe. He already has so many stresses happening at once, one more problem could send him over the edge. And so, you bore through it because you loved him. It was all that you needed.

It was until strange things started happening around your home- the place where you felt the most secure. Rocks thrown at your windows, strangers standing only a few feet away from your doorstep, light acts of vandalism appearing on your property. Only then did you start fearing for your life. You brought the issue up to Childe who kept guard throughout the night, but miraculously, nothing ever happens when he’s at home. It’s only when you’re by yourself that people seem to go out of their way to take out their frustrations of Childe onto you. You didn’t think that people could be so cruel. Then again, they had a reason to hate Childe- but they had no excuse to show their hatred through you. 

Childe always noticed your fears. As much as he tried to relieve it, the world always seemed to push his efforts away. Even as he volunteers to deal with the problem himself, you hold him back. As much as it angers him to see you look so vulnerable, he knows it’ll only make things worse. 

Things came to a boiling point when Childe suggested you two take a walk together around town to take your mind off of things. You were reluctant to be seen with him, which was silly but reasonable. In the end, you agreed and Childe was more observant in his surroundings more than ever. His head was held up high, scanning the crowd who turned away as they met his cold gaze. You on the other hand kept your eyes low on the ground, fearing that someone would be brave enough to cross Childe’s wrath. He noticed this, noticed your shying away as if you were embarrassed to be seen with him, and he could do nothing to ease you of your worries.

It’ll only make things worse.

As you walked, Childe led you away to a place with little to no people- a place where you can breathe. He savors this moment with you. He never really has time to be at home so Childe always makes sure to spend as much time with you as he can, pouring out his heart when he’s absent during the night when you sleep.

“You know, you’re the realest thing I’ve had in a while.” Childe says, taking your fingers in his hands. “Thank you.” He looked at you and was surprised to see your face. Quick was your change of expression- a look of fear as you glanced down at his hand, then back up at Childe. Your eyes, wide and worried, wandering around the near-empty streets as you took your fingers away by impulse and smiled awkwardly.

“Ah… well, let’s get going before it gets too dark.”

It was clear how much of a toll the fear had on you. You barely went out to shop anymore, spending your days and nights locked up in your house, counting down the days for Childe’s return from a mission. He worries about you, even more so when you start acting differently towards him. You’re silent, shrinking away from his touch, never wanting to go out for dinners and always afraid of seeing him off- even if it was just at your front door. You worried about your long term future with him. You wanted life with Childe to be normal- that one day if would just be the two of you living a mundane but peaceful life. Childe was angry and heartbroken; angry at the fact that he is powerless to change the minds of people, to stop them from seeing his infamy through you. Heartbroken at the fact that you drift away because of the very same people that convince you that loving him was a sin. Childe needed to take you out of there.

And so, you move. He takes you to his missions and you find temporary housing in whatever nation his job lands him in. You thought you could handle it, that starting fresh would be what’s best, but it seemed that this lifestyle was far more exhausting than the one you had before. You never had a home; whenever you felt comfortable in your new living space, Childe always finishes up his mission before you even get the chance to look around the place. You don’t get to stay for long anyways; the longer you stay, the more people recognize Childe and soon you are back in the cycle of hate. As much as Childe tried to keep you from harm's way, it never felt safe. It was draining, but you held on for Childe’s sake. He just wanted to keep you safe.

“Let’s go back home to Snezhnaya.” Childe suggested one night. “I think it’ll be good for both of us.” You knew why Childe wanted to go back home. He needed peace away from the dangers of his duty and you were more than happy to be there with him. Still, you can’t really shake off the paranoia you’ve acquired after running away for so long.

“What about your work?” You ask.

“I’ve requested a time off. I’ve been doing great anyways.”

“We can’t stay with your family.” You say silently, looking down at your hands. “We can’t risk it. After all the places we’ve been, people are bound to recognize me now.” 

“I know.” Childe responds. “I rented us a cabin in the forest. Just the two of us.”

Soon enough, you found yourself in the winters of Snezhnaya, in a little wooden cabin surrounded by tall trees, blanketed by snow under the dome of endless sky. It really was just the two of you. Childe watches in adoration as you feel yourself feeling free for the first time in a while. He smiles as you do back at him, bounding through the snow and into his open arms. 

Childe hasn’t felt you this close in so long. He’s gone on nights and on days you’re withdrawn. He wants to get carried away with you. Your comforting embrace was almost enough to send him over the edge.

“I missed you.” He whispers in your ear, tone mirroring that of a desperate man waiting to be satisfied.

He wants to devour you like a wolf; caught between your teeth and tongue like a ravaged, hungry animal waiting for the warmth that comes with death as soon as he takes the first bite. And all that Childe has ever known was hunger; to hunt and to take what was never given to him. He will kiss till you are breathless, till your skin burns with desire and lips shed the blood he once ravaged others to get- to release the tension built up in his bones when he failed to protect you from the world. But he is in your hands. He’d let you tame him if it meant he’d get to feel your love like the way he used to.

Tonight, as you spare him a fluttering kiss, sweet like candy and warm like the blood he craves- Childe falters. You barely have your lips on his, but as soon as he feels the delicate brush of your skin, the slight exhale through your nose on his cheek as if to say you feel secure, Childe is at the mercy of the prey that was once in his control. He will not bite the hand that feeds him, and so, he simply closes his eyes and sinks into the innocence of your willingness to be in his grasp. His mind races with all the things that had happened to the both of you. You endured so much for him and the thought of that makes Childe feel guilt like never before.

The world slows to let Childe’s heart thrum madly in his chest. He feels you inch in closer, fingers interlocking with him as he feels the tension leave your shoulders, the weight of fear from the past now gone. You’re with him. You’re both alone. You’re safe. 

Childe will not be the monster the world portrays him to be- not especially around you. But even if you see him in his prime- blue waves crashing into violent lighting- how could you kiss him like he’s a man fit to hold the beauty of the world? He’s shown you how childish, immature, selfish and brash he could be, all the while he stubbornly wants to keep you at his side for his sake. Even then, you chose to stay. You didn’t want to push him away. Childe feels as though he doesn’t deserve this.

Tell me, he thinks. How could you love me for who I am?

“How could you still be with me for all the things I’ve done?” Childe mumbles, voice breaking as he pulls you in. “The blood on my hands, the lives it took-“ You stop him. Childe falls silent and your response nearly makes him lose his composure.

“You were just a kid.” You whisper, taking his face in your steady hands. “You were never given a choice.” Childe breathes hard as he studies your hardened eyes, scolding him almost. He wasn’t the type to show weakness, not with you, not with gentle scolding. But this- you’re giving him a choice- a choice of freedom. To be unshackled by the consequences of his past and allow him to be vulnerable, even for just a second. 

The snowfall was quiet, and so were you. You knew what you had to say and Childe knows what it was. He just didn’t want to accept it.

“You know we can’t keep running away, Childe.”

Childe doesn’t answer and instead looks away, his eyes darting back and forth, refusing to look at you. His jaw was tight and his hands were clenched into a fist. You soften at the sight. You know that looks all too well. It was Childe’s way of showing fear. He wasn’t really afraid- only frustrated and fearful of the consequence of his actions. He knows deep down that he can’t keep running. He can’t take you with him and he refuses to let you go. You’re tired, he knows that, he just doesn’t ever want to lose you.

“Ajax,” you say, your hand landing on Childe’s cheek. He nearly flinches away from your touch, but instead he relents and allows himself to melt into you- his kiss finding home in the warmth of your palms. “What are you so afraid of?” Truth be told, Childe wasn’t as brave as he presents himself to be. He was just a person like everyone else; he had his own fears, worries, doubts and regrets. Many of those he did on his own, but now they’ve caught up to him, and he is more afraid of consequences now than he has ever been. All because of you. Childe ran away from all those problems before, but if those consequences catch up to him, they’d cost him you. You who fought with him so bravely- never afraid of him and his tainted past. You who stuck by him even when the world seemed to treat you like an outcast for even associating yourself with him. You who had sacrificed everything for him, defended him when he refused to do the same for himself. He was given a glimpse of the risks that came with his dangerous job. Soon, people would find the courage to test his strength. By all means, it would always cost you your freedom.

“Of you.” Childe says finally. “I’m scared of everything because of you.” It was hypocritical of him to think this way, especially since he was the one who put your life at risk and your reputation hanging on by a string. But you were braver than him in a way that was sane- and you still had the courage to look at him as if he were just any other person in the world. His dream of normalcy, you never took it away.

“Then why don’t you leave me?” Childe scoffs

“It’s not that easy for me to do that, you know?” He says with a weak laugh. He can’t leave you alone. He doesn’t want to, he would never want to.

“Then I’ll do it for you.” You say. “I’ll go far away and things will go back to normal.”

Childe looks at you surprised. He knows you’re doing this for his own sake and yours, that you’re doing what’s best even if it hurts. But why does he feel so betrayed? Why would you of all people leave him that quickly with all those promises and hopes and dreams for the future? Why would you be the one to crush them? Did any of it mean nothing? Why was it so easy for you to abandon what you had with him? Childe wanted to fight, argue and win you over again and again even if it meant you both had to go through heartbreak together. He needed you. He wanted to battle- but instead you calmed him with a look. A look he knew so well, so pleasant, that Childe’s sea of emotions ebbed and he gave you space to talk.

“You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.” He says incredulously. You don’t answer. “Y/N, come on-”

“I love you, Childe, but this isn’t healthy for either of us.” You say. Childe shakes his head in protest but stays silent, allowing your words to penetrate him painfully as he lets the gravity of your situations sink in. You were right, he can’t keep running.

“You can protect me all you want, but we can’t live like this. You have jobs to do, places to go where I can’t, and I can’t keep fearing for my life when I’m with you. I love you, but I can’t… we can’t escape this, we can’t run away.” You say. “The best thing we can do is to get away from each other.”

“No, don’t do this to me!” He begs, almost angry. Childe doesn’t look at you and instead looks down at his feet, his teeth gritting and jaw tight as you hold his face and will for him to look.

“If you love me, then you wouldn’t do this, you wouldn’t leave me.” He argues. You shake your head but he continues. “You’ll just be like everyone else if you do. You’ll betray me by leaving because you’re just like everyone else!” Childe was guilting you into staying. He knows how wrong it was, how selfish he was being, but he thought it would be the only way to keep you by his side. It was the only way he knew how. 

“You and I both know that isn’t true.” You say. Childe balls his fists a shadow looms over his already darkened eyes. 

“If you really loved me, you would stay.” His voice was a silent, forceful anger that made you pity him. But this, whatever you two had, was destructive; it hurt you both and you knew well that Childe would destroy himself and a million more just to get what he wants- just to keep you with him.

“I do love you, Childe,” You say and a hopeful shine appears in his eyes. “But not enough to make me want to stay.” And in a flash, it’s gone. Despair washes over Childe’s expression, soon replaced by anger and desperation. He towers over you, a dark aura emanating from his gaze. 

“You’re a liar.” Childe spits out, venom lacing his tone. You stand your ground- you knew well Childe would never hurt you. He never had space to deal with his emotions in a healthy manner, and you knew this tantrum was to mask the true feelings of hurt he had inside. He didn’t want to be seen as weak and vulnerable, even if it were you. 

You were lying. You loved Childe so much it hurt- but this relationship between you two had terrorized you far worse. As much as you loved him, as much as he meant to you, you needed to save yourself. You sacrificed so much and risked everything in your life to be with him. You knew him better than anyone and saw him in a light that nobody else was willing to. You loved him as Ajax- the loving caring brother and family man that would do anything to protect those he loved so they would never have to go through the same thing he did. At the same time you loved Childe- the powerful, cocky and reckless Harbinger loyal to the Tsaritsa and even more loyal to you. But even that wasn’t enough. The world saw how much you truly loved Childe and decided to take advantage of that by pitting itself against you. It really was just the two of you against the world- but you had your limits, and Childe couldn’t be the person to fight alongside you if he tried. He tried, you tried, but nothing was enough.

“Please, Childe, look at me.” You say. “It might be the last time I’ll see you.”

“No!” He yells. “It’s not the last time! There won’t be a last time! You’re not leaving, I’ll see you again tomorrow and I can look at you all I want because you’re not leaving me! You would never do that to me!” Childe hugs you tight, his body trembling against you and choking sobs escape his throat. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want to be alone.” 

You never thought you would ever see a Harbinger in this state- walls crumbling and image shattered from fear of all things. You thought the Harbingers were never afraid, that Childe would be the last person you’ll see look so distraught after all he went through. Then he looked at you dark blue eyes filled with tears, his brows furrowed and suppressed sobs making their way past his lips. You envision the young boy within him; robbed of this childhood, his innocence, still carrying the fear and trauma of the days he was taken away from his safety. Childe found his new safeplace in you, and the fear of losing it, losing you, the hope and dreams he so precariously planned with you, coupled with the loneliness and isolation that would come after you leave- of course he was going to be afraid. But you feared for your life- you didn’t want to risk Childe’s to save yours. And so, you turn away to leave but Childe grabs you.

“Childe, let me go.” You assert, tugging your wrist away from his tightening grip. He stares you down, wishing that it wouldn’t have to come to this.

“No, you can’t leave me.” He says. “You need me.” His tone was menacing, the same he uses against his subordinates to make them submit. This annoys you for some reason- to think that Childe had the nerve to see you as someone as lowly as those men and women under him- you thought you were both way past that. You angrily take your wrist away from him and start yelling- a version of you that Childe has never seen before. You didn’t know why you yelled, you didn’t understand why a red hot anger surged through your chest. You released every form of frustration you had on him; your fears, your regrets, the way you hated how he was so stubborn, the way you hated how he never admits he was wrong, how every bit of your life was stripped away the moment you told him you loved him. Everything. Tears well in your eyes with each word you say, and even more so when Childe decides to fight back. You thought that you trying to push him away like this would prompt him to let you go, not spiral into this form of chaos. You knew well that Childe would never give up an opportunity to fight; there’s no turning back now.

This was like any battle Childe would have trained to fight. It wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced from those before- the thrill, the excitement, his heart racing for more, more, more. Not tonight, not with you. You two were in war- fighting each other with the harshest words, sharp tongues, insults and arguments thrown so carelessly at the others deepest fears and insecurities. You were someone that knew Childe better than anybody, so this, the ache in Childe’s heart almost felt agonizing. He’s never seen you look so defeated. It’s as if it hurts you to even say these things to him out of anger. He hated the way your voice echoed the words his own mind would tell him; he hated the way your hands restrained themselves into fists by your side; he hated how tense your shoulders were, how your eyes looked so sad. He hated the way you mirrored those who tried so hard to break you in a pitiful attempt to make him feel what you felt.

Even from before as strangers berated you for even being with him, your life turned upside down for even being associated with him, you always put up such a strong front. Childe admired that, even more so now as he felt that he could shrink at the sheer magnitude of emotions that flooded out of you all because of him. Childe listened to you rant, your words becoming warbled as his head pounded with the strength of his own voice. He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point- only watching you cry and shout- wishing for nothing but to pull you in his arms and comfort you even while you’re still furious at him. Even if you beat, kick and punch your way out of his arms, just stay, he thinks. 

Stay with me.

If it meant he’d lose everything else, Childe was willing to let this be the first battle he’ll lose. And what greater reward was it to lose against someone he loves?

“I can’t do this anymore, Childe,” you cry silently, your voice barely making it past your strained throat. He hears you, loud and clear. “I love you, but I can’t.”

Childe is silent.

The fallout was devastating, comparable to the collapse of a dying star. It was explosive and angry and destructive beyond what you could have anticipated. It was dangerous on both ends- the freefall of the damage reaching far beyond the ground zero of everything that surrounded the two of you. The echo of the forests that surrounded you two in the silence of winter felt the weight of you and Childe’s booming voices yelling louder above one anothers- shouting words you both would have never expected to hear the other say. It was painful, to you, to Childe and to the universe that knew of the relationship you had in secret- how the world watched your love bloom and beautify like a flower- and like a flower it wilted into the cold. It was ugly and it shouldn’t have been in the first place.

But at the same time, it was colorful and beautiful and bright. Twin flames bursting with far more hues than the searing red you saw in fury, the gentle blue of his tearful, empty eyes- a kaleidoscope of colors springing to life once the initial flames died down to a spark from where they’d started. The whispering, hushed voices, exhausted and only realizing the gravity of your situations. The once harmful words full of spite and venom now replaced by half-hearted apologies that carry the weight of your entire hearts, the words Childe cannot say. Like a star flickering out of its last few breaths, it explodes, furious and catastrophic, but it’s wonderful all the same. The rebirth of a new galaxy, the start of life anew. But for the both of you, it was still in the in-between; the slow, gradual explosion of a supernova, not yet ready to start over. That would be far, far into the future; right now, Childe stares into your tired, reddened eyes, seeing nothing but sadness and pity, and a glimpse into what could have been your future with him. That was the moment he calmed down, the star finally settling within itself to wait another million years of stasis until it could start over. The way Childe loved you was sincerely heartfelt, but the world was not ready to allow him to be happy.

Childe needed to make a choice. His hands tremble and fall to his sides, steeling himself for the moment you would look at him, finally seeing him for who he really is. Childe looks down, refusing to even glance at you, unable to confront the fact that his delusional want of hopes and dreams would just be that; a hope and a dream. He’ll just bear through the pain in silence, only listen when you would eventually turn your heels and walk away. Instead, Childe feels the lightness of your grip around him, your arms wrapped around his frame so surely, and the delicate plush of your kiss on his lips. In that moment, when he feels your shaking body against his beginning to hesitantly pull away, Childe breaks. His composure weakens as he sobs against your lips, shaking fingers not knowing where to touch you- wanting to reach for you so badly- but he doesn’t know how. He felt like he couldn’t, it would hurt too much, but if he didn’t, he would regret not wanting to when he had the chance. And so, he pulls you in, so close, so tight, that he feels he can never ever let you go. Childe hears your muffled sobs against his lips, your hands placed on his chest not knowing if you should push him away or pull him even closer. If he could live in this moment, he would for a million years; he would freeze time and let it be so that the two of you could live on happily. 

When you break away, still feeling the need to gravitate towards each other, Childe smiles dumbly despite the situation. You follow suit.

“Gods…” You mumble, wiping away your own tears. “Will it always be like this if we fight? We kiss and make up?” Childe chuckles weakly.

“I wouldn’t really mind that.” 

Silence again, and the snow begins to fall. Your gaze wanders ‘round the now still forest that cushioned your arguments and your eyes fixate on the sun beginning to set.

“It’s getting dark.” You say, and Childe nods in agreement. Tentatively, he takes your hand and leads you both back into the cabin, the fire now long gone, but the heat never leaving your skin. 

You two went about that night in complete silence- never once uttering a single word to each other until it was finally time to sleep on your shared bed. Only then, when you decide to sleep on your side and fully expected Childe to stay in his, did you feel the relief of comfort when he wrapped you in his arms and pull you close. You nestled yourself in his warmth and breathed in the frost of the night. Silence was broken by Childe once more.

“You’re free to make a choice, Y/N,” he mumbles. “If you choose to leave, just know I’ll never be mad at you for it.” You feel Childe’s embrace tighten as he says it. You nod and hold his roughened hand, kissing his knuckles and burying yourself under the covers.

“Goodnight, Ajax.”

Childe didn’t sleep that night. He listened to the whistling breeze from outside and the occasional movements you’d make. He thinks about all the events that led up till now; how life snowballed into this catastrophe of a situation you both were in. He thinks about how different life for him would be if he hadn’t met you. He won’t be happier then; Childe loves you too much to imagine a life wherein your absence would be his downfall. At the same time, your life would ultimately be better without him in it. He pictures your smiling face amongst the crowd, everyone happy to see you’ve arrived because he isn’t there to taint your reputation. How different things would be for you both if you hadn’t met.

Childe had a choice, you’ve given him one. As much as it pains him to do this to you, to do it to himself, he knew in his heart he had to do it. 

Silently, before the sun breaks out into dawn, Childe prepares himself for the inevitability of loneliness once he steps out the door. He watches you for a moment and ultimately decides that staying for a second longer would be far more painful. And so, he left silently in the sunrise, in the snow where he’ll be in the far, far future. When you woke that morning, you braced yourself of the dread that came with Childe’s absence. You knew deep down he’ll leave. He never wanted to be the selfish one, but tonight, he needed to be- for your sake. You breathed in the cold winter air and willed yourself to look at the note he left on the side that was once his. So little words, yet it had been enough to have you shatter.

‘Please forget me.’

[bookish-phile]

fourth wing in a nutshell (i think?)

“Stop letting fear leach into your voice,” Luca snaps from behind Rhiannon. “If the dragons think you’re a coward, you’ll be nothing but a name tomorrow.” “She says,” Ridoc narrates, “inducing more fear.”

“It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.” “Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.”

“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”

“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot.

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“You will not fall. I will not allow it.” “You will trust me.”

“But…” I shake my head. “Dragons value strength and cunning and…ferocity in their riders.” None of which defines me. “Please, do tell me more about what I should value.”

“For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.” I lift my chin. “Tairneanach.” “Pronunciation could use some work.” Tairn’s voice rumbles through my head.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…Xaden.

Tell him to ease up on you.” “Tell him to mind his own business.”

“Tairn says if you harm me, he’ll burn you,” I say as dragons to the left and right launch skyward without their riders, headed back to the Vale. But not Tairn. Nope, he’s still standing behind me like an overprotective dad.

and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from Liam’s side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

"..but Sgaeyl does whatever she wants, whenever she wants.."

“Are we on offense or defense?” I ask Xaden. “Little busy right now.” “Oh no, am I distracting you?” A smile curves my mouth. Shit, am I flirting? Maybe. Do I care? Oddly enough…no. “Yes.”

“What did she say?” Xaden asks, gripping my shoulders to steady me. Tairn growls and a puff of steam blasts us both. “I’d take your hands off the rider,” Sgaeyl warns.

“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.”

but it’s not his position that steals my breath. It’s the saddle strapped across his back that has me gawking. “I hear it’s all the fashion,” Tairn brags.

“Third-years are taught to build wards, and at this point in the year, they’re leaving anyway.” I shrug. “May as well send them early so they can be of use.” “Point fucking made.”

Dress uniforms only.” She lifts her brows at Ridoc. He shrugs. “What else would I be wearing?” “One never knows what you’ll come up with,” Devera says, dismissing us.

“So she’s grown quite close to him out of necessity.” Out of lust and need and the ache in my chest I’m terrified to define, but sure, necessity works.

“Then what made you even think that? Have to admit, it pissed me off. I’ve given you exactly zero reasons to think I’m in anyone else’s bed.”

anyway i almost forgot to post this and i also think no one actually read till the end bc i never read long posts so im gonna assume no one else does either

also these are just some stuff i found funny

[shecallsbs]

➳ | @wisperedlullaby sent . . .

Kaiser slowly awoke to the sound of loud noises, honking from what he could presume was unknown prey and the sound of people. The massive buildings and sights were something he had never seen become and one he didn't like, what the hell had happened and where was he? Everything about this place was disgusting and he hated it already. He stood up slowly and flew to the top of a building to get a better look at things. This was a city full of those pests, how had he gotten here? And more importantly, where was a way out? One thing was for sure wherever he was had way more tech, stuff he didn't even recognize, where were the easily burnable houses, the blacksmiths, the farms, and more importantly the cockroaches who called themselves hunters? He jumped down from the roof and snarled, scaring off a few citizens as he did so and causing a panic. They still seemed to fear the same way, heh, that would have been good, but he wasn't going to push his luck, after all he didn't know what they were capable of, or so the surroundings told him anyways. He was confident that they were not any stronger than the hunters who constantly invaded his den and tried to end him. A small blast of fire came out of his maw as he tried to scare off these annoyances. He wasn't going to fly off like some coward, nor was he going to back down from the position he was already in. Flight or fight and he has chosen defense, and if push come to some he'd fight.

She had sensed the aura before the sounds of screams could reach her ears.

Although maybe “sensing” wasn’t the right word. Because really, Lauren hadn’t sensed anything- the aura had slammed into her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and demanded her attention. And she’d had no choice but to oblige it.

Browser tabs with report drafts were quickly cast aside, the seat in her office promptly abandoned. The low click of her heels, for a moment, is the only sound to pierce the steady silence inside- but outside is a far different story. It’s loud, plenty of blocks over, and crowds of people flock in the opposite direction. The air is heavy with panic, and the faintest tinge of burning- burning which forces her out of her blazer, which is quickly discarded somewhere she doesn’t think about.

Her own footsteps are harder to hear now. There are sirens, piercing and muffled at the same time. A businessman nearly knocks her over in his haste to escape. She keeps walking.

Sounds are sharper now, a sister effect to the surge her blood had just sent through her veins. She hopes her own sister is home, instead of roaming about. Now pointed ears tell her she’s headed in the right direction, though the spattering of taxi drivers could’ve told her just as well. They’re too frantic to pay the taller woman, or the direction she’s headed in, much mind. They won’t remember her by the time they get somewhere safe, considering what else is going on.

The glint of her eyes mars her vision, forcing her to remove her glasses the moment she arrives. By this point, the police are on the scene- doing what little they can, which.. Isn’t much. It’s both still and all too busy, the way they scurry to find something to do. She can move along the side of the patrol cars with little issue.

She needed to know. What were they shielding themselves from?

A surge of heat dances across her skin: a warning. Her eyes travel to meet it’s source.

This. Something draconic, scales of deepest onyx. There were wings that jutted out from the side. It- he stood tall, imposing, looming, defensive. It only takes one glance to confirm the aura- the same one that had brought her here. And at the moment, things are far too chaotic for questions or answers of any sort.

She isn’t one for heroics. She never has been, and never will be. But Lauren steps out from the side of the barricade, and lifts her eyes to meet his. Weaponless hands sit at her sides- there’s no need to attack what’s already riled.

She carries nothing but a singular question:

Who are you?

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, JUNE 30, 2016 I was surprised to find my blog included on the list of Top 2016 Blogs. :) I learned this when I saw it was the referral page of one of my visitors.

Went to the pool just before 6pm. It was 100 degrees and desert dry. The water aerobics was just finishing up. I saw a woman (Debby?) I recognized from the afternoon aerobics that’s been here 7 years and met a couple that just moved in 2 weeks ago.

Here’s the shocking part… the pool is to be locked at 8pm due to vandalism. Here?!?! I guess maybe some kids were jumping the fence and cutting the locks, so they started using these cable locks. But why close the pool 2 hours earlier due to this?

Contacted a local rattery about their rats, but haven’t heard back from them yet. That’s too bad because I’m very hesitant to get any more rats from pet store chains. They simply don’t take the time to handle them enough from birth so that they’re not as shy.

Noticed that I’m not as hungry much lately, not that I’m complaining. I also noticed I haven’t had that intense PMS hunger in months where I’ll have a day or two before my period where all I want to do is eat yet I never feel satisfied. These days, however, I don’t know when it’s coming because it’s gotten erratic.

Still hear from the woodpecker every now and then in the early mornings. Fortunately, it can’t wake me up thanks to the sound machine I play during my sleep, but it’s annoying when I am up. It usually only makes a few pecks, but any more and I must shoo it away with a broom. During vacation, Tom’s going to blow leaves and debris from the roof. It’s after fallen seeds from trees and stuff like that.

So it took me 3 pillows to find the right one. Surprisingly, the longer bamboo pillow I got with shredded memory foam was harder to shape to my liking than the shorter one, so now I’m back to using that one, and that’s the one I’ll stick with. It’s ideal for all sleeping positions.

Although I know I won’t get a reply, I messaged Joan’s family and explained that I live in California now, was a student of hers, and would love to see any pics of her from the 70s if they had any.

Later…

So Holly must’ve seen my message on Facebook cuz now her friend list is invisible. Although I didn’t tell her or Shannan that I found Shannan through her list, she obviously put two and two together. Or she told Shannan she heard from me and Shannan said, “Funny, cuz so did I.”

Still kinda insulting if you ask me. Not replying to someone is one thing. Hiding like a coward is another. It makes a person feel almost feared for absolutely no reason at all, not to mention insulted. Maybe she just figured that if I could find her and her friends, so could others. But all I did was say hello to them. I didn’t stalk, harass and badger them. So why be so rude about it? It’s almost like she might as well have replied with, “Ew! Who the hell wants to hear from you? Go away! I’m gonna hide my friends from you now, you ugly, unwanted, crazy loon.”

It will be interesting to see how she acts the next time she cleans my teeth.

The more I see Aly bitch about the depression she tried to pin on me, the less I miss her

Contacted a local rattery this evening. Hope to hear from them soon. Really want to check them out over his vacation. One more day!

3.5 hours to go till Camp NaNoWriMo begins! Not very prepared, though. I mean I have a basic plot mapped out, but no real details as of yet. With this soft word count of 10K, that’s less than 400 words a day needed to hit my goal, so I’m not worried about it.

Shane is now fully finished. I shared it on Facebook with Tammy, but don’t know if I’ll share it elsewhere just yet. It’s over 16K.

How did Bob manage to get the blinds up over the garage window that faces the afternoon sun without waking me up? That’s like right outside the bedroom window, and I would think that would take some hammering, unless he drilled the hooks in.

I told Tom that I hoped he wasn’t trying to cool the garage for upcoming projects, and he said he doubted it or else he’d just throw an AC in the window. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.

The new people are still behaving, but that could be because of the heat. It’s safe enough to say the people next to them won’t be a problem, but it’s still too soon to judge them.

Started the only diet that seems to work for me, once again, due to waking up at 154.8. That’s getting a bit high for me. Wish I knew the magic number I could safely diet down to without my meds backfiring on me, though if it were under 120 it wouldn’t matter. I’m more interested in not being so damn fat than I am in getting “skinny.” I’m probably a size 14. Well, I don’t need to be a size 3 again, but somewhere between 8-10 might be nice. It would give me a little more mobility.

I had a dream I was running across the street and opening a mailbox the size of a round Pringles potato chip can. In it was a tennis ball. I shut the “mailbox” door and raced back across the street. A young Hispanic man grinned at me lustily and I found it odd being a fit but aging fatty.

Then a delivery truck pulled up with only 1 of 3 (coloring books?) I ordered. Tom took the one that was handed to him and told the guy that we were expecting 3.

For some reason, I thought the guy might turn violent and I wanted to be prepared to try to fight if need be, so I slipped on a pair of long bright yellow pants that were skin tight and totally see-through.

But then the guy left and I told Tom that we better stop using “off-brand” delivery services and just stick to the well-known companies.

In the last dream, I was floating on this thick gross mossy “raft” on a pond somewhere. Something dangerous, though I don’t know what, lurked in the waters and I was afraid the makeshift raft would sink.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 29, 2016 I was watching the 90s movie Flowers in the Attic. I’ve read the book and seen the movie but watched it anyway since it had been a long time. I thought of how the evil grandmother reminded me of Joan Bowe, a 5th-grade teacher in the elementary school I went to that I had a “crush” on, or whatever the proper word is for being just 10 years old at the time and therefore totally non-physical. I might have even been as young as 8 when I first saw her.

So out of curiosity I ran her name and found she JUST died last month. Wow. This is the first obit I ever saw that gave the cause of death – dementia and diabetes.

My mind then reflected on some 40-year-old memories. She hated me. She would never dare say as much, but looking back on it now, I’m sure she must have at least a little bit. In modern times she probably would’ve been quicker to catch on to why I was such an obnoxious kid and maybe even felt a bit sorry for me. But this was the 70s. Nobody felt sorry for kids that acted out due to their shitty upbringings. Your home life was private and you were expected to be “normal” in every sense of what the word meant back then. Yet I got on her nerves, acting out mostly for attention, and even called her a few times. Not to prank her, but just to talk, which eventually got back to my parents, of course. They ordered me never to call her again and I didn’t.

Mrs. Bowe was heavy but had a pleasant face and nice long dark hair. Interestingly enough, though, I never saw it down. She put it up every single day. Buns weren’t a big thing back then, so she sort of clipped it up with a large barrette. Never even wore it in a braid or a ponytail. Guess it wasn’t considered very professional back then.

I feel bad for the letter I sent her back in 2000 or so before the freeloaders really raked me over the coals. My main point was to point out what I just said; yes, I was obnoxious and I was sorry for that, but kids don’t usually behave in the way that I did without a damn good reason. One that’s no fault of their own. We’re responsible for our own actions as adults, but are we really as children? I don’t think kids are 100% responsible for their actions and behavior. Then again, sometimes not even adults are. If a man comes at me with a knife and I kill him for it, did they really leave me much choice?

It wasn’t pointing this out that I regret. I shouldn’t have mindfucked her while I was at it and said I dated her son just to shock and maybe piss her off. I never even met her son. The obit says he was married with 3 kids. I’ll bet she treated him similarly to how my mother treated my sibs and me. Mrs. Bowe was a very stern woman. No one really liked her.

The last time I saw her was at some teacher meeting at Williams Middle School. I was in grade 7 or 8. She was then around 40 and had cut her hair off.

In 1988 at age 49, she lost her 63-year-old husband. Damn, that’s a long time to be a widow!

RIP, Mrs. Bowe. You were a bitch, but a hard worker who probably had quite a bit of her own baggage to deal with.

I can’t stand to be on Facebook right now with all the daddy posts the girls are slamming on the feed. Ugh! I get it. I really do. I just don’t need the unwanted reminders/memories.

His obit said Lisa’s got a “life partner,” Michael Beebe. What happened to marrying Jasper?

Remembered that Aly could actually read my only public blog without me knowing it. I remembered last night that I tested and verified this for her not too long ago. She might not have been so quick to admit it but she always preferred to follow me on my-diary because I couldn’t track visitors there. Then she set things up so she’d appear invisible to my tracker when I dropped my-diary.

So much for me making Aly depressed based on the tweet I just read about how getting overlooked triggers her depression and how it’s hard being a newbie. A newbie where? shrugs Either way, I think she’ll always be depressed until she realizes that most of it comes from her, physiological or not, and stops blaming others for it. Yet she always does, sometimes directly, other times in a roundabout way. Sure, people can influence our moods; I just think she’s putting more of it on others when it should be on herself. But it’s her life, her moods, her choice. :)

LOL at her always having to repeat herself to Kim… as always. His fault or not, I hated having to do that with Andy.

Kim must’ve been really curious about Aly’s “real” and “happy” dream because she got her to elaborate even more on it. She said it was just her getting an email from me. How is it “unrealistic” to get an email from someone? Perhaps it’s because I don’t know her current email account. She changes accounts more than anyone I’ve ever known and I’ve always wondered why, too. Not judging, just curious.

Ask her what I said in that email, Kim. :)

I must be more psychic than Aly at least this time around because my ultrasound showed NO signs of plaque building up in my arteries – yay! It would explain why I had no nightmares warning me that trouble was amiss. If I have dreams warning me about others I would certainly get a heads-up if my own ass were on its way up Shit’s Creek. :) I was a little worried, though, cuz these people don’t usually call with good news.

So if the retrial is a bust I can tell the doc that I’m not only sick of the medicine drama and need a serious break from it, but I don’t have any plaque anyway!

The only negative is that we’re back to square one as to what’s making me dizzy. We’re still thinking it’s perimenopause-related. I had a nice week off, but it’s been bad again these last few days.

Tom may have a point when he suggests that my earaches could be allergies, which would also explain why it’s intermittent. I have no toothache on that side, and I do sometimes feel fluid draining in the very back of my throat that seems to come from that side. Afterward, my ear feels better. But why did it take nearly a decade after surgery to become an issue, and why does congestion make it ache? Damaged nerves from surgery? Inner ear tube issues? The problem is I can’t take decongestants just anytime I want to because they make me so drowsy. I don’t want to feel like napping when I go to work out or run out to the store. I just hope I feel good and well-rested for our vacation. Can’t wait!

I thought I might sleep shitty since I slept well the last time around, but I slept ok. Surprisingly, I only slept 6-7 hours the last two nights. Usually, I need 8-9 hours.

TUESDAY, JUNE 28, 2016 Happy birthday to Tom! Too bad he has to work today. He’s got 5 goals he hopes to accomplish by the time he hits his 60s next year. He wants to get to 200 pounds or less, get his blood sugar to 90, sell at least one computer program, do the floors we want to do, and get rid of those hideously ugly Cypress trees alongside the carport. Well, he won’t get rid of them, but whomever we hire to come and feed them to their wood chipper will.

The thought of him entering his 60s is a bit of a sad and scary thought to me, though I typically don’t consider one to be “old” until they’re over 65. Then again, I know it’s how the person feels and that age is just a number. Still, the 60s is a far cry from the 30s, which is where he was when we met. He was just about to turn 35 actually.

Later…

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a dead Bill G! I feel horrible for my nieces, but being the mean little shit he was to so many others, I can only say that I hope his suffering was immense and intense in the end.

I also hope Tom’s right in thinking that no, Tammy’s not still in love with him. I know we can’t help who we love, but I sure would wonder about her if there were still any lingering feelings other than for the girls’ sadness and at such a young age.

While the girls see him as their oh-so-wonderful daddy, I still see him as the guy that abused women and children and helped get me thrown in jail for daring to speak up about it. He never did a day in jail for his abuse, as he should have, while I did time for words on paper. God only knows what other people the freeloaders may’ve pissed off that sent things to them that were automatically assumed to be from me and therefore pinned on me.

Meanwhile, I slept really well (which means I’ll probably sleep shitty next time around), so if the dead can pick on the living, he hasn’t gotten to me yet.

Doc A’s office left a message at 5 o’clock asking that I call them back. I left the damn phone on the bathroom counter when they called and was in the living room. I know it’s pointless to worry about it now, but I couldn’t help but feel a stab of fear course through me. I also couldn’t help but remember Alison’s tweet about having a dream that scared her the day before my ultrasound. I know she was referring to me, but to the best of my knowledge, she has not been reading my blog at all.

If I’m up late enough I’ll have to call in the morning. If not, I wonder if maybe Tom should try to call and get information or not. I’m hoping that like he said they’re just calling to tell me everything’s okay, but that’s not the feeling I get, even though it doesn’t seem reasonable that they’d wait this long to contact me if something were wrong. It’s been almost 2 weeks since the ultrasound.

I’m having “normal” anxiety right now where I’m a bit shaky and feeling like I have to take a dump I can’t take. The kind I’d get in the hotel and trailer. My heart isn’t racing or pounding. Just slightly trembling hands and shaky breath, but I don’t feel like I’m suffocating. Just got a bad feeling. When are things ever that easy for me anyway? My ear’s been worse (especially laying down), I’m dizzy again, and well, something’s been determined to shit on my health these last 2 years, just like I feared it would if we got a nice place to live and were comfortable financially.

Oh, to go back to having my worst problems be getting rejected by someone I was interested in. Or wanting something I could never have. Or wanting to be something I could never be. I miss these so-called problems as opposed to worrying about my health and mind and how medication may affect it. I still worry about growing old, too.

If those who believe we’re not given more than we can handle are correct, then I’ve got to be “killed” with Tom or before he dies.

The reincarnation theory still makes no sense due to population fluctuations, and I think it’s still safe to say that the dead can’t influence the living. If they could, wouldn’t our loved ones influence more of us to win the lottery? And wouldn’t they help end or prevent our suffering? Think of a murder victim whose killer goes on to have a great life with all kinds of great things. Well, certainly they would see to it that they were miserable if they could, wouldn’t they?

But what I don’t know is whether or not there’s a God up there punishing me or why it would inflict me with so many issues if there is. Earaches and dizziness may not be as bad as kick-ass anxiety that leaves you feeling like you’re about to die, but it’s bad enough to make me wonder about things. Did I stab someone in the ear in a previous life if I had one? Or could it be that ant I stepped on in 1996 or something? I just wonder if I’m going to be forced to scramble to try to figure out one issue after another until I die. Yet so much of it remains shrouded in mystery. No ear doctor has ever helped my ear and no one’s ever told me why I’m dizzy. I can only guess it’s the perimenopause or my ear. I don’t think I have low BP or low blood sugar. I don’t think it’s anxiety either.

After thinking Aly wasn’t going to tweet today, she just tweeted that she’s back on iron shots. But is her blood cancer cured?

Also, I’ve been wondering if the dream Aly last tweeted about was positive or negative, and thanks to Kim, she answered that question. I can’t actually see Kim’s tweets as they’re protected, but it was obvious enough that she was asking about it just from Aly’s side of the conversation. Aly said it was “nice. Unrealistic but a happy dream.”

I love those kinds of dreams. I’ve had some pertaining to Nane, but most of the dreams I’ve had about Aly were either neutral or negative, to be honest. Would really love to know what that dream was that scared her because she too, has proven to have dream premonitions. She’s as intuitive as she is smart. Hoping that the fact that I myself haven’t had any questionable dreams is a good sign, though, but time will tell. As Tom, Tammy and Stacey always say… think positive and don’t worry about what isn’t actually happening yet, if it does at all.

Firecrackers sure are happening now, though. Sounds close too, like it could be in the park, but maybe not. Sound travels better at night. But why now? It’s not the 4th yet.

Anyway, a part of me feels guilty for following Aly’s tweets even though they’re public and technically anyone can see them. She’ll change accounts soon, though. She always does.

I don’t remember exactly when it was, but a while back I was the one to actually dump Aly. This was the first time I caught her being deceptive, though she promptly owned up to it, took total responsibility, and apologized. I quickly came to regret my decision to cut ties with her, realizing how much I’d miss her and how she has so much more good in her than bad, reached out to her, and we resumed our friendship. A part of me is hoping that she is or does eventually read this and does the same for me, but not expecting it.

I feel worse for how I handled her dumping me. I realize I shouldn’t have said and done some of the things I did, and while I’m truly sorry for it, I can’t go back and undo it either. Nothing’s changed… I miss her, I would take her back into my life even if I shouldn’t, but she has decided she’s totally sure she wants me out of it, so I’ll stay out and remember what others have told me… true friends are always there for us. Always. They may not always agree with us and they may voice their opinions at times, but they always love and accept us just the way we are.

They say that if we’re thinking of someone, they sense it and think of us too, if it’s someone we know. In other words, I can’t think of Kate Jackson and expect her to think of me in return or anything like that. Maybe I should make a point of thinking about Aly more. LOL, I’ve always wanted to “make” people dream of me. Only thing is that most of those people wouldn’t be happily skipping through a park with me or enjoying a nice chat with good food, know what I mean? I don’t want to chase Aly through a dark forest or toss her off a rooftop, but it’s nice (and kinda funny) for her to be reminded of my existence, the person she one day tossed aside.

Love reading about myself on the rare occasion I’m mentioned (that isn’t in an insulting way). I know it sounds funny as hell, but it’s almost like being in touch without still being in touch. I know I should let go completely and never ever look in on her, but it’s harmless and time will cause me to do just that anyway.

For now, I sometimes wonder if I should, well, not “fight” for her, but make one last-ditch effort to see if we can work things out and resume the friendship, but I feel I’ve been the one to play that role one too many times in life. I’d like to see someone fight for me for once. I just don’t want it to always be on me, you know? Yet the longer she stays away, the more I’m sure she really meant it when she said there was no going back.

As I’ve learned, never think anyone’s in your life to stay, cuz maybe they’re not. I wasn’t 100% sure that Aly and I would always be friends but I was in the 90s. They say, however, that in 7 years from now, we won’t have the same friends. Well, we were friends for 8 years, and I’m still friends with Christine, Adonis and Mitch, but many friends and acquaintances from 2009 are no longer in my life. Nothing bad necessarily happened with all of them; we just went our own ways.

Another thing I’ve learned is that cyber friends are just as “real” as face-to-face friends. They’re not just a name on a screen, but real people behind those names, avatars and profiles.

I’m still extremely hesitant to make any new friends, cyber or not. Yes, I miss getting to know different people from all over the world. But I don’t want the drama either. I may not be perfect myself, but I’ve been stalked, I’ve been lied to, and I’ve been hurt. I just need a break from any possible newbies/drama right now.

MONDAY, JUNE 27, 2016 Tonight I’m feeling a little dizzy and depressed. I still don’t get how I can miss someone who continually lied to me and then dumped me, but nothing lasts forever, right?

Death is on my mind again, probably because of the dying bastard back east. I’m thrilled that he’s dying. No one who can do the things he’s done deserves to live. I wonder, though… is he contemplating the afterlife? If he believes one exists, does he fear what lies beyond? Or does he believe he’s going to heaven to have one big happy eternal blast? Undoubtedly, he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong. Most abusers don’t.

Wherever he ends up, if there is an afterlife, I just hope he can’t have any influence on my “nowlife!” Many believe it takes a few months before the dead can affect the living, while others argue that they can do it right away because there is no such thing as time in the afterlife.

Anyway, I was thinking of Tom’s family. I miss having his family close by but still loathe how they gave up on us simply for having one too many rough times in life.

IDK, I just miss having local friends and family, but am also glad we don’t at the same time, if that makes any sense.

I REALLY miss the days when Tom was always home like he was during those 2.5 years, minus the Jes pest, his mutts and trailer, of course.

Later…

“Had such a real dream involving a former friend that I can’t help but wonder… There is no going back though.”

Last night I asked myself how I could miss someone who, as she herself admitted and apologized for, continually lied to me and then callously dumped me. When I read the second sentence of this rather interesting tweet, however, I realized there really is nothing to miss, is there? Yet I do. I miss checking in with her on Twitter, I miss her intelligence, and I miss swapping writing ideas with her.

I still don’t understand why I still feel hurt, and a little angry, over someone that clearly doesn’t give a shit about me and probably never truly did. Not if she could lie to me the way she did and make certain comments she never thought I’d see. So I asked myself…if you wouldn’t forgive certain people for what they’ve done to you, why her? The only answer I can come up with is that she didn’t screw me over nearly as much as some others have. There’s no comparison between what she did to me, as shitty as it is to be lied to by phony people, and what some others have done to me that cost me a world of emotional grief, freedom, money, lost sleep and a whole lot more. Seriously, it’s like comparing a little slap in the face to being viciously beaten over and over again with a bat. Well, Alison was that little slap in the face, though that slap still stings at times and I’d probably be dumb enough to talk to her if she contacted me.

I briefly considered and then changed my mind about contacting her because then she’d just do what she always does and deactivate her account and create a new one. She’ll no doubt do that soon enough anyway, but if I contacted her she’d do it even sooner. I like reading her tweets, though I can’t understand why. Maybe it’s because this is the most “honest” she’s been about me. If someone doesn’t think you’re reading them, then they tend to be more honest about what they’re really thinking of you. Believe me, Tammy would never write how awful I looked (unless she was pissed at me) any more than I would publically write, “Great to finally see my big sis as horrible as she looks.”

While I don’t think the blood cancer thing was one of her many lies, why no tweets about that and the chemo treatments, etc.?

She put a selfie on Twitter and Fitbit where she’s leaning a cheek on her fist. Great way to hide what’s no doubt a chubby face. She said Fitbit stretched it and made it look chubby. Maybe because she is? I’m not that active on Fitbit, but I’ve never known them to “stretch” pics, and the pic looks the same on Twitter. Seriously, I’ve seen pics of her from years ago and she was clearly heavy. Like as big as I am if not bigger. Yet I’ve never known her to describe herself as being fat and has said that obesity doesn’t run in her family. Could be in denial like Kim is about her own weight, but that’s their problem. I just write my observations and figure that if some can see themselves as fat when they’re not, maybe some see thinness where others see fat. At this moment I doubt she’s 150-152, which is my usual weight range these days. She’s probably between 120-130.

Good to know I’m haunting her dreams just like she’s haunted mine (LOL), though I haven’t had any of her recently. Would just LOVE to know the details of the dream, too. Maybe she’ll miss me a decade from now, read this and tell me.

I also have to wonder… Was I really that bad of a friend???

For dreams, I had very faint snippets of thinking I was hearing the voices of some guys that broke into our house, which didn’t look like our house, as usual, and something about taking a statin. I did it fearlessly, so it seemed, and I hope that’s a good sign. Really REALLY want that retrial to work!

SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 2016 Slept as horribly last night as I slept well 2 nights ago. After just a few hours of sleep, I woke up every other minute. So I took melatonin and lay there for quite a while before I finally returned to sleep.

Although the dizziness has been wonderfully minimal, I worry about it returning with a vengeance. It seems worse today, and as I learned years ago, few things are ever really quite gone forever. The past really does have a way of returning to haunt us.

Meanwhile, Bill’s in New England, not Florida. This I learned when Sarah & Becky posted that they’d flown up to him yesterday. So I guess the shitster’s days are numbered. I only wish it could have been me to kill him instead. Slowly. Very slowly. And painfully.

Those girls sure do spend a lot of time on Facebook despite the circumstances, and I’m sure Sarah will post another selfie that looks just like most of her others any time now.

Not passing judgment or anything, but I don’t get why some people pray for what can never be changed. You know, sort of like me praying to be tall. Some things just are, like it or not, and there isn’t really much we can do about it but accept it and try to make the best of it. Meanwhile, I guess it’s something for the believers to understand and me to wonder about, not that it really matters. They’re not harming anything. Harm is only done when we try to make others like us and force their minds and hearts to go places they just don’t want to go.

The AC had me worried yesterday. When I’m sleeping or doing something physical I set it to 76° and to 77° when I’m not. Well, when I saw the thermostat read 81° after setting it to 76°, I was really worried that something was broken and we’d have to go to a hotel. But Tom simply turned it off, waited a minute, then turned it back on. A few minutes later it was running just fine. Not sure what happened, but during the vacation we’ll have it checked out and given a Freon charge. Really don’t want to have to shell out 2 or 3 grand on a new unit right now when we’re still paying other things off. The heater crapping out would be one thing since we have portables, but there’s no substitute for the AC. Couldn’t help but think, though, that as much as a broken AC would suck, it sure beat feeling like I was having a heart attack and literally about to die.

The master bath’s drain plug pulled out of the sink. The metal stick in back that you pull up and down, I mean. Tom attempted to fix it but says he needs to do it when he has more time, like over the vacation. As I told him, it’s not necessary that I fill the sink to soak off nails. I can always pour soapy water into a Tupperware dish and do it there.

Played around with the sculpting clay last night and found I just couldn’t get into it like I hoped to and like I once could have. I can still sing, but for the most part, my artistic side has morphed into a technical side over the years. That’s ok, though. I enjoy writing, languages and tech stuff immensely.

In the middle of this dry 105-degree day, we decided to head out to Raley’s with the slow drivers and screaming brats. Well, we got hung up by our typical Cali creepers, but any kids we saw at the store were civilized.

Really wish they’d ban public smoking! Others may not give a shit about their lungs, but I care about mine. Go kill yourself at home, I say. But you know how our twisted laws are… feelings first, actual damage second. Secondhand smoke doesn’t “hurt my feelings” or offend me. It’s only bad for my body. rolls eyes I’ll probably never go to casinos again mostly due to that. Haven’t won much since our Vegas/Laughlin days anyway.

So we grabbed some things we needed at the store, and also another set of Impress nails in a bright pinkish-orange color with accents. For now, I’m giving my nails time to breathe. I treated them with that expensive hair, skin and nail oil I got on the ship that smells really nice, like suntan lotion. My cuticles are dry and my nails are a little beat up. It’s also nice to take a break so I can type easier and not snag them in my hair or catch them on objects.

Eating some oatmeal and Greek yogurt. Never seen this combination before so I had to try it. It’s edible but I doubt I’ll get it again.

What else… Got half of my book edited, Bob and Virginia returned yesterday, and the new people are quiet. The car stereos blasting down the freeway at night, well, that’s a whole ‘nother story. Again, I don’t get the twisted laws in this country. It’s not just allowing for a huge disturbance of the peace, but how the hell can they hear sirens over that shit?

Trying not to think of a certain person in NE who lied as easily as one breathes, then so callously dumped me, leaving me virtually friendless. Sorry, but it’s hard to consider people like Christine or Charlotte as the kind of friend I once considered Aly to be. Thought of befriending her through a bogus account, but it’s not worth the time or effort. I’d only be the same liar she is if I did that anyway.

I’m also trying not to think of the fact that the statin retrial is less than a week away. “What if I do ok, then have a problem when you go back to work?” I asked Tom, and he said that wouldn’t be the case, and that if I were going to have a problem it would happen within the first 2 or 3 days.

And he’d be the only one to believe me if I did. Decided I wouldn’t ask for an alternative if it does backfire on me. After 2 years of this on-and-off hell related to medication, I can only take so much more of this shit. I just can’t keep putting myself through this hell. Really hoping I can tolerate the medication, though!

A part of me wishes I could see Stacey every month for life since I feel so much better afterward, LOL, but I’ll probably be seeing her every 3-4 weeks for a while. Every 1-2 may be more ideal, but 3-4 suits my schedule better. Love that woman for how helpful she’s been!

Actually got horny and got off last night without the pounding heart. Get Tom in on the action? Nah. He hasn’t shown any interest in years, and what’s the point if I get a rare surge of horniness when he’s asleep? We’re getting older. I just thank God (figure of speech not meant to be literal) I don’t have the appetite I had when I was younger. I would never love him any less, but would probably have to hunt for a sex partner.

Last night I dreamed I visited Andy. He said something had worsened about his health and I said, “And I gained weight. Like 3 pounds.”

Then I called a hotel to make a reservation (not a bad sign, I hope), and the woman I spoke to said she tutored me back in school. So I guess the hotel was in MA. After hanging up from the woman I tried to recall who she may be, but couldn’t. It seemed like any tutors I could think of should be very old if not dead by now, and wondered how she knew who I was since I gave my married name.

In another dream, I was telling someone how good it felt to “hang” myself. That is in hanging from a bar by my hands.

In the last dream, I was in an indoor pool and someone was blowing a huge fan onto the water’s surface and I wasn’t too happy about it.

SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 2016 It may not be so hard to peel these nails off after all. One popped off after I showered and the others are loose. No sticky residue left behind like with the other nails.

Xfinity was across the street again, and so is the American flag. That reminds me…maybe I’ll put up my cute, colorful floral and kitty flags. I just get sick of the damn things wrapping around the pole, even though we got one of those things that is supposed to prevent that from happening.

They still have the “sale pending” sign up.

I slept surprisingly well and long, and I wonder if the ibuprofen I took before bed for an earache had anything to do with that. I doubt it, though.

Not doing much today. Yesterday was cardio day so today is strength training day. I will also make out the grocery list and continue proofreading and editing my last book.

Though no fault of her own, Tammy hasn’t exactly had positive news of her own to share for a while, and so I’m hoping that the surgeries they’ve done to help alleviate her chronic pain are helping her to have a more active life. She too, lives in a beautiful place and it would be nice if she could enjoy it more.

Apparently, Bill is in Rhode Island and not Florida because Becky and Sarah are flying there right now. No matter what, I will never forgive the guy. I will always see him as the abuser that he was, and the guy that helped get me sent to jail. In my eyes, he deserves any suffering he may experience.

Tomorrow Tom and I will enjoy his only day off this week, then he has to work a whole week, and then it’s vacation time!!!

Since using Squigle (no, that’s not a typo) Tooth Builder toothpaste I have noticed less sensitivity within my teeth as it closes up and repairs any cavities in my hopelessly soft enamel. No wonder Tom said someone said it was much better than Restore. It’s fantastic!

Last night’s dreams were strange and sexual in nature. I was getting on with Doc L, LOL. Then I was watching a news broadcast about a woman who was sent to prison and how people said she would now get what her infamous

FRIDAY, JUNE 24, 2016 I spoke with a neighbor today but not the new ones. It was Geri in the gray house across the street. She’s been here seven years. She said she just had a $2000 roof repair that the inspector missed when she had it inspected. Yes, inspectors like to miss things, don’t they?

We ended up chatting as I was pulling in the recycle bin, and I caught her out trimming bushes.

I still can’t get a handle on who moved into the new house, but there could be as many as three people living there. I’ve seen a couple in their 50s or 60s and I’ve also seen a very old man who walks with a cane. There might also be a younger guy who could be some kind of caretaker if not a family member that’s helping them get settled. I just can’t say for sure.

My biggest concern was loud vehicles and projects. It’s too soon to say whether or not anyone’s going to be obsessed with hammers and saws, but the good thing is that it does look like they’re a one-vehicle household, and their white SUV is quiet.

They were out and about until after 11 when a brown SUV that was a little loud left for the night. I’m glad that thing is not going to live there, even though there are louder vehicles like the car across from Bob and Virginia.

There was a work truck there around lunchtime, but it wasn’t there for long. They have a lot of stuff sitting in their carport. The white SUV has been sitting in front of the place for the afternoon.

It doesn’t look like they have any dogs, but it’s too soon to judge how they’re going to be. I never really had any bad vibes about them, but I’ve had more important things on my mind like the upcoming statin retrial, and dealing with how unbelievably shitty I sleep.

Fell asleep at about midnight and every time I would conk out I would wake back up. Finally, after two or three hours of doing that, I took a lorazepam and I did sleep a little better. Because I’ve gotten too used to the lorazepam, I won’t take it tonight. I’ll just let myself keep waking up and sleep shitty and be a little tired tomorrow. I don’t have any cleaning to do or anything physical other than working out on the Bowflex (today’s the treadmill). Tom will be working.

I worry about him because he has an abscessed tooth but won’t go to the dentist because of his phobia. He said he would get antibiotics if he got sick, but that his body is still young and healthy enough to fight infections. Let’s hope so! His wife has enough shit to deal with so we don’t need his health going down the drain or anything like that.

I dread my next trip to the dentist! Really afraid she’s going to come out and tell me I have several cavities, or worse, teeth that need to be crowned. Either way, I am trying not to think of my health until I am actually faced with certain issues.

Dropped the cap to my lip balm under my desk and I can’t find it at all. One of our future rats will no doubt drag it out being the kleptos that they are.

Got some mushroom ravioli at Raley’s and it is so damn good!

Later…

Today’s one of those days where I feel the exact opposite about Aly than I felt a couple of days ago. Despite my own faults, she bullshitted me like crazy, and I don’t miss that or all the hypochondriac drama, or the crazy nutjobs connected to her that would latch onto me. I’ll probably go back and forth in my mind for some time to come, however.

I like to at least check her tweets every now and then to see what’s up with her. That way I feel like there’s still some sort of connection, but without the toxic drama.

My nails still look amazing and like they were just done. I want to switch out to something new but I never want to take these off either. I used to think people paid a lot of money to have these designer nails done in salons, and they did, but now that I know you can stick them on in seconds for a fraction of the cost, I will definitely be looking for more. It’s a little more expensive than regular nail polish as what you pay for a set of these is around the same as you’d pay for a bottle of nail polish that you can use multiple times. I still think it’s worth the extra cost. I love how they never chip and always look perfect. Still find it hard to type with the longer ones, and I don’t like catching them in my hair, but they’re pretty awesome. No more ridges either. :-)

The box these Impress nails came in says it’s not recommended you wear them for more than seven days. I wonder why.

They also say that to remove them just gently peel from the sides or use polish remover. I can’t believe it’s possible to just peel these things off!

Two cars came to visit the new people, and at one point at least half a dozen people were chatting in the street, one of them going by on a golf cart. They weren’t that loud, and again I’m so glad we couldn’t end up with welfare bums, college kids or large families to deal with so close to us! I do NOT miss those days.

Still too soon to say exactly how many people live there and how they’re going to be as neighbors until they’re settled in, but my guess is that it’s a couple living there (the old man I saw might also live there) and that their only vehicle is the white SUV.

I’m loving that I’m 100% anxiety and pain-free, but dreading the eventual return of these things that can’t seem to stay out of my life forever. I don’t expect to never experience pain again, of course, but it would be nice if I didn’t have to have any serious anxiety. It’ll come back, though, at some point. It always does. After two years of dealing with it on and off, I can’t expect it to go away forever.

THURSDAY, JUNE 23, 2016 It was actually Kim who mentioned Auburn, so I saw after I reread the tweets. But at least Aly didn’t correct her and tell her my real town, even if it would have been harmless.

It seems like Kim has stopped checking up on me, so for the millionth time, I deactivated my old Twitter account, and this time it’s probably for good.

A huge moving truck showed up about an hour ago, but I still can’t see any people or tell who’s moving in. I did see a white woman exchange greetings with a black woman who was visiting next door to them, but I don’t know if the white woman is going to be living there or not. She asked the black woman if she was living there and all I heard was, “No, I…” and then blackie took off.

There is also a large pickup parked in front of the gray house in front with tons of boxes in it, but I don’t know if that’s connected or not. I’m guessing whoever they are must have decent money to be able to hire movers, and such a large truck, too. I’m hoping they work and therefore don’t have the time to move themselves, but I agree with Tom, they’re probably retired and can’t move themselves easily enough. As able-bodied as Bob is, I can’t picture him and Virginia moving themselves. I know we couldn’t get lucky enough to get working neighbors, so yes, I’m sure that they’re retired, whoever they are.

I still have a lot to worry about… loud vehicles, motorcycles, too much company, screaming kids visiting, cars blasting stereos visiting, mutts left to bark outside windows and doors, and most of all… projects. Tom suggested that since they hired movers they might be too old for projects. Not necessarily. Bob’s 86 and he can handle power tools just fine.

I just find it hard to be optimistic with my track record for neighbors, Retirement community or not. I’m just so glad we’re in a retirement community, though, where the chance of trouble (or at least as much trouble) is lower. It would also be easier to do something about it if the problem was serious enough. I would hope so, anyway. Another thing is that the chances of them being black or Muslim aren’t good. God, I hope that’s not what we’re in for! Honestly, though, I’d rather quiet Muzzies than rowdy whites. But with them, I’d still have to worry about being killed whereas blacks are just rude and tend to be more trouble.

Yesterday there was a pickup and an SUV over there, but I think those were workers of some kind. Xfinity was there this morning.

I could probably escape most of any noise they made by going into the bedroom, but they could really make hanging out in the living room in the daytime pretty annoying.

As for Bob and Virginia, they definitely took off somewhere. If one of them were in the hospital, then the other one would be driving in and out to see them. I’m just a little surprised they didn’t tell us they were taking off, but due to the heat and how I feel at times, I haven’t been out and about as much. Therefore I’m not running into them as much.

That car that came early in the morning probably took them to the airport, and I would bet their SUV is in their garage, which has been closed up. The last time they went on vacation a year and a half ago, their son and English daughter-in-law stayed at their place. They were quiet but left their really bright garage light on all the time.

The Egyptian cotton sheets are luxuriously smooth and comfy. I should have gotten two sets of those instead of one of those and one flannel.

If it weren’t for difficulty typing because these nails are longer, I would definitely vote Impress nails as the #1 artificial nails I’ve tried so far. They’re easier to apply and they don’t snag my hair as much.

The light on the toilet is on once again, but everything still seems to be working fine.

Two days ago I had a headache and I did the tapping routine twice and it actually went away! I didn’t need to take ibuprofen or anything.

Today I woke up both tired and dizzy because I didn’t sleep well. I fell asleep earlier than I thought I would, but as usual, I woke up a million times along the way. So I tapped for dizziness and fatigue, and I actually perked up! It’s just amazing. I was able to finish the rest of the cleaning, but like yesterday, I didn’t work out. I’ll make sure I do tomorrow.

Tom is working this Saturday, but I’m okay with it. As long as he’s at this job, he’s never going to work just 40 hours a week. That’s simply not part of this job. I’m just glad it’s a European company so he gets more time off, especially with all the damn appointments I have.

I had a dream I met this skinny woman and was shocked to learn she had Hashimoto’s and was on levothyroxine. I asked if she could eat all she wanted and she said no.

In another dream, I was (visiting? Living?) with Andy. He was whining and bitching at me from two rooms away. I put some bags that contained his laundry just outside the room I was in which was between my room and the room he was in and said, “I put your stuff in the corner here.”

He came into the room and said he didn’t hear me, and I said, “Sorry, I can’t hear people when they talk to me from other rooms either,” hoping he’d think he wasted his breath complaining about whatever it was about me that was irritating him.

Then I went back to folding more laundry on my bed and seemed to fold some of Tom’s shirts.

Then I had some dream about Tom wishing he could show me to his co-workers so they could see that at my age, no, I wasn’t beautiful, but I was ok, LOL.

In the last dream, the roof was leaking, but it didn’t make any sense because it was leaking in front of the refrigerator and over the part of the counter where I color.

Last night Aly tweeted: I always hate that I feel so awkward and hesitant around those who have an obvious disability.

But she has no problem around those who are fucked in the head? For once Kim told the truth on one of her accounts. In one where her handle is “paranoid ghost,” her bio says: I am a Paranoid Ghost. I get paranoid all the time and also I can be delusional at times. Mess with me and you will face the consequences.

This is the only time I’ve ever known her to be honest and tell it like it is. So Aly feels perfectly comfortable around the delusional?

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 22, 2016 I admit it. I still miss her. I know I shouldn’t and that it’s pointless, but I do. Maybe the dreams I had about her last night are the reason she’s on my mind so much today. They weren’t bad dreams, but she’s been showing up in my dreams more often since she let me go. I wish I could say I was 100% totally over her, but I still have mixed emotions about our friendship ending, and sometimes it still hurts.

I admit that I was the one who dumped Andy and I shouldn’t have said otherwise. I don’t miss him, Paula, Nane, Maliheh or Mary, though I will always remember and wonder about them from time to time.

I wish I could put Aly, however, completely in the past just like she did with me. I guess it’s not that easy when you were friends with someone for eight years regardless of how dishonest they were to you along the way. We had as much in common as we had our differences. I never minded our differences, though. I didn’t care that she was more accepting of Muslims. I didn’t care that she preferred colder weather while I prefer warmer weather. I didn’t care that she preferred short hair while I prefer long hair. But being similar mattered to her and she chose to cut ties on account of that and my bluntness, and I have no choice but to respect her wishes. We can’t make people want to be in our lives. I get that. She wanted me gone from her life and so I’m gone, like it or not.

I don’t expect her to ever contact me, but if she did I know I wouldn’t do what I should do. No, instead I would be glad to talk with her. I would take her back into my life in a heartbeat, even though it would be against my better judgment and I would probably end up regretting it. I would have to be a lot more cautious than I ever was before because, as she herself admitted and apologized for, she wasn’t always honest and she probably still isn’t.

She hated my bluntness and honesty, so if she were suddenly back in my life I would have to make sure I wasn’t as quick to express my opinion and say things I was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear about whoever and whatever. Not sure I would like that kind of arrangement, but sometimes you just have to compromise. She was just more sensitive than I realized.

Like I said, I don’t expect to hear from her ever again, but I sure do miss her at times. I really do. Today’s one of those days where I would have gladly texted with her which I know is something she always loved to do. Maybe she’s sick of that sort of thing by now, but today would have been a good day for that for a few reasons.

So yeah, even though it’s probably best that I never do, I would really love to hear from her, even if my logical side knows that you don’t dump people you truly, honestly care about and accept as they are. Anyone I myself have ever dumped in the past; it was because there was something about their behavior or personality I simply couldn’t accept or tolerate. If I could have, they’d still be in my life unless they chose to cut ties with me.

I keep thinking of her tweets. She’s been up to the usual kinds of things for the most part, but there were a couple of tweets that grabbed my attention. One was surprising and the other was a bit chilling.

Like me, Aly has been known to have dream premonitions. The one that was a little scary was how she mentioned having a dream that had her scared for someone she shouldn’t be. Why do I get the feeling she was talking about me? If she was, the thing that was a little unnerving was that this was the day before my ultrasound. However, I didn’t have any bad dreams warning of impending danger, and no one ever called about the test results. They haven’t even been posted online.

The surprising tweet was when she said she was thinking about a former friend and wondering how she was doing, but wonder was all she would do. Pretty sure that one was in regard to me. So she’s been thinking about me, too. Wow. Well, if that’s the case and she was scared for me (assuming I was the one she was talking about) then that goes to show that a part of her still cares just like a part of me still cares about her. No, I didn’t like the lies and clinginess, but I liked everything else and I miss her at times. Just those little things like doing CampNano together and things like that. A part of me wishes we could be friends again with me assuring her I’d keep more of my opinions to myself, and her promising to just not say anything at all rather than bullshit me, but life will go on and I will survive.

Speaking of camp, I have 11 cabin mates in the cabin I have been assigned to. So I guess I’m going to camp in July. :) Until then I will be editing the book I just finished.

In observing her tweets with Kim, I appreciated that she still refers to me as being in Auburn and hasn’t told Kim my real town, not that it should matter. Kim’s obsessed with two things (besides lying), celebrities and weather. So they discussed the weather, and my old town came up when they were discussing the heat most of the West is experiencing.

Later…

Tom checked Social Security and we’d really be hurting if he retired at 62 with just a grand a month. We could barely live on that in the $300 studio they had in the Klam, which is probably now going for $500 and will be over a grand by the time we’re old.

Still sleeping shitty. I’m tired all day yet up forever. Lorazepam doesn’t cut it for me anymore. It doesn’t knock me out like it used to, nor does it prevent me from waking up so much. So I guess I’ve gotten too used to it and can forget the stuff for a while.

We’re trying to decide if we want to go anywhere during vacation that’s just a couple of hours away like Reno, Lake Tahoe or San Francisco. The thing is that I’ve pretty much been all over the country as well as to other countries. So while I’d love to live in Maui during the winters, traveling just doesn’t excite me like it once did. I won’t rule it out completely, though. We have plenty of time to decide.

Although I’m still a little lightheaded at times (especially if I’m active), I’ve been free of pain and anxiety lately, so that’s good. Still feel like a first-class wimp for how I handled certain things, even though I know I shouldn’t. We all handle things differently, as Stacey and others have reminded me, and it’s pointless to play the comparison game. If you want to compare a sore throat to someone paralyzed from the waist down… ok, I can see that. But hardships are hardships. Some things I handle better than others, some things I don’t, and I know that’s ok. I’m human just like anyone else. All I can do is my best. I try to think positively, be optimistic, and focus on the good. If I could’ve been less impacted by certain events, I would’ve been. I didn’t actively choose some things to get to me as much as they did, but I’ll just leave it at that. :)

Love these artificial designer nails, but I hate snagging them in my hair. I think I’ve pulled out more hairs with these than what fell out when my thyroid crashed.

Just got the leggings with the colorful candies printed all over them and while I love those too, I couldn’t get into these things if I were still 100 pounds. :( So, gotta return them.

Also got our new light blue 600-TC Egyptian cotton sheets. They feel nice to the touch, but I’m not sure how well they’ll stay put despite their deep pockets. I think they’d fit a queen better. So far only flannel and jersey sheets stay put best. The only problem with jersey is that they shrink like crazy.

The light on the toilet finally went out. Still don’t know why it got stuck on in the first place, but it made a nice nightlight.

Something’s definitely amiss next door. I just don’t know what. Pretty sure someone was there this morning, though. When you’re a homebody you see things and you get to know the normal routines of your neighbors. Well, they always have their garage door open in the daytime unless it’s cold or raining. Always. And they always make 3-4 trips in and out each day. Both today and yesterday the door has been shut and I haven’t seen anyone come or go.

They’ve been quiet since September, and as selfish as this may sound, I really hope nothing happened to one of them, or else the other will move. I don’t want to deal with any more newbies. As it is I’m still worried about what we’re in for on the other side of us. The carpet was cleaned this morning, and I saw what I’m pretty sure was the realtor and some workers over there for a little while.

TUESDAY, JUNE 21, 2016 Physical and emotional report first: No anxiety. Slept shitty, but got a lot done, including cleaning and exercising. Started off mildly lightheaded, but after 5 hours it intensified (not to the point that it got scary and I felt all weak in the legs or anything like that) and I also became more fatigued.

Stacey told me that I should not only tap every day for anxiety, but that some people do it for pain, too. So I tried it and it worked on my headache! Yeah, I had one of those intermittent, “moving” headaches, but after two rounds of tapping it diminished. I just wish the dizziness wouldn’t be an everyday thing, even when it’s mild. God, I miss more and more aspects of the old me the older I get!

YES! My book Shane is finished! It’s not quite a short story and it’s not quite a novel. More like a novella. Next comes the boring part… editing the 16011-word story. It’s 19 chapters, including the epilogue, and 50 pages long at point 12 Cambria font.

I wonder if something bad happened to either Bob or Virginia because, at just 5am, I saw a car pull out after I heard a series of door slams. I had just gotten up and was like, you’re kidding me. It’s 5am and the traffic and door slamming has already begun? I first wondered if they were going on vacation, but realized they probably would have told us, as well as the fact that they usually go in the winter (except for last winter). At least one of them was home by 8 o’clock.

I was browsing some YouTube videos on EMDR therapy sessions, and wow. The brain really is a fascinating thing. We may not know everything there is to know about it, but what we do know is pretty amazing. The technique seems pretty straightforward. The client is told to focus on their most disturbing memory while they follow the therapist’s hand movements with their eyes, and the therapist may also tap alternately on each forearm. Our memories basically get filed into little folders, and sometimes a traumatic memory doesn’t quite get filed away in the proper folder and gets “stuck” on one side of the brain instead of on both sides where memories are supposed to be stored. You have your artistic side of the brain and your intelligent side of the brain, with memories being stored on both sides. This technique files the traumatic event on both sides thus disallowing the memory to have such an impact on a person so they can cope with things easier. So I guess that when “smile,” “think positive,” and “don’t dwell on old shit” doesn’t quite cut it, then it’s EMDR to the rescue.

Aly has been haunting my dreams lately. I don’t remember the particulars but there were two different dreams. In one she didn’t look like herself and was considerably bigger than me, even though I knew it was her.

In another dream, she commented and “liked” something of mine on some site (I don’t know which) and so did Kim. I was delighted that they had reached out to me in a kind way and I looked for something on their pages to “like” in return.

In real life, a part of me misses Aly. Why, though? Why? She was nothing but a phony liar. Yes, I was overly brash, blunt and brutally honest with her. Some people just don’t want to know what you’re thinking if it’s not something they’re going to like or agree with, and she was one of them. But that’s just the thing; I was honest with her while she bullshitted me left and right. Having learned my lesson on how forgiving people often backfires, I hope I will be smart enough to ignore her if she ever contacts me, and the same goes for Andy and anyone else in my past.

Now that I have this sculpting clay and all these tools here, I may as well go YouTube hunting for demonstrations on what the tools are best used for.

Later…

So I go through one of Kim’s fan sites out of curiosity (never contacting either one of them), and find Aly’s latest and obvious account. IDK, I guess the dream has caused her to be on my mind. Although I know it’s silly, pointless, stupid, immature and all things negative, I still miss the little liar at times and a part of me wishes she’d contact me, knowing I’d be dumb enough to accept her back into my life, if only with a lot more caution on my part (I doubt she’d ever contact me, though).

Yes, she’s clingy, she puts guilt trips on you if you don’t practically smother her, and yes, she’s a true liar at heart with poor taste in friends and no ability to handle the truth from others if it’s not what she likes/agrees with. But she was smart and we had some good talks.

I went through her 120 tweets, both to see what was up and to see if I was mentioned. Well, when I saw “Had a couple of strange dreams overnight. One that has me fearing for someone I shouldn’t be” posted on the 15th, I wondered if she was referring to me.

This tweet, however, was obvious. “Sometimes I think about a former friend. Wonder what she’s up to. But wondering is all I’ll do.”

So as cold as she was by dumping me, she’s thinking of me, too.

I KNOW her and I KNOW some of the tweets about being misunderstood and feeling ignored were aimed at Kim. She would always tell me how selfish Kim seemed and how much she lacked empathy. Part of me has been hoping Kim would dump her to give her a taste of her own medicine. Kim is the only “real” friend she has left. But Kim doesn’t tell her the truth, something Aly can’t deal with, so Aly wouldn’t dump her, though you never know with Kim. As soon as I called Kim out on the “anonymous” insults on Ask, I got dumped. If Aly ever gets fed up enough with the lies and phoniness, Kim will dump her too.

Then there’s the usual, “Don’t want to bring anyone down so I’ll suffer in silence” shit that really means she wants attention or else she wouldn’t have publicly tweeted such a statement.

Again, I still have mixed emotions concerning her as much as I wish I could say I was 100% totally over her. Someday, though. It’s only been a few months.

MONDAY, JUNE 20, 2016 Bombed the house on this hot, dry day and saw Stacey during the two hours we had to be out of the house. Well, we only saw her for an hour or so, but it took a half-hour to get to Rocklin, and then we stopped at a drive-thru.

Stacey’s going to be doing EMDR therapy on me beginning on July 7th, which can take up to 8 sessions. When today’s session started I updated her on what’s been going on since I last saw her in January. I told her about the heatstroke on vacation, the lightheadedness I’ve been experiencing since April, the attempt to go back on statins, plans for a retrial, the anxiety that’s returned, etc. I haven’t, however, had much anxiety for a few days now. It’s only when the lightheadedness gets real bad that I start getting anxious, and then eventually depressed.

I’m just panicking too often lately. All I do is worry. I suffer or I worry that I’m going to suffer, and this is no way to live. I’m just tired of feeling like a first-class “mental case,” as I told Tom. Tom, who seems totally unbreakable. He assures me, though, that anyone can be traumatized, even him. I hope to hell he never is, but if God forbid he ever is, I’m sure he’d handle it a lot better than I’ve handled my own trauma. I feel like a wimp, even though I know I shouldn’t.

So Stacey wants to see how I do with EMDR sessions; to help lessen the negative effects of two years ago. I still would’ve had the perimenopause symptoms, for example, but she suspects that because my brain may not have processed the event, it has led me to have more anxiety than I might have otherwise had over the last two years, making even ordinary things harder to cope with. I don’t know much about it yet. She said something about blinking and tapping to process the memory on both sides of the brain. You use one half of the brain for creativity and the other half for things like processing math problems and stuff like that. Memories, however, are typically processed on both sides of the brain. My memory of that traumatic day is apparently stuck on just one side. This is a technique that’s been used on those in combat as well as others suffering PTSD after experiencing something traumatic.

So telling myself to just “smile” and “think positive” isn’t always cutting it for me. Believe me, I’d love to be able to relax and do just that and live with less fear, worries and anxiety. But it hasn’t been that simple. EMDR will hopefully turn 7/9/14 into what it is… just a memory, instead of something that negatively impacts much of my life. Too bad brains don’t come with delete buttons! Life would be so much simpler that way.

As I told her, I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what I believe. Is there something up there punishing me? Something about this house? Or is it just random? Tom and Stacey think it’s just random, and I guess they’re probably right. If we all lived the same lives with the same experiences, that would suggest some sense of order, but since some people have better lives than I’ve had while others have worse, it suggests randomness.

Jackie (across the street) moved today and my fingers are crossed that we’re in for people as quiet and as respectful as the women that recently moved in next to them. Really, REALLY hope they don’t have a motorcycle, are company junkies or are obsessed with doing all kinds of outdoor projects! Time will tell. I’m definitely not as worried as I would be if we weren’t in a retirement community. Fido isn’t going to be outdoors 24/7 and barking up a storm every time they go out so that much is good. Sure wish this could be my biggest concern right now. Yeah, some of my old problems, like worrying about neighbors, really seem like nothing nowadays.

For now… goodbye Jackie and good luck. We never met, but you were a good neighbor who was only “noisy” when you had workers clean up the water damage caused by your old hot water tank.

Was thinking of deactivating my Google+ account since I never use it, but haven’t decided. I just have no use for it and it’s a rather annoying and complicated thing to use anyway. My Blogger entries auto-post there, but that’s not necessary.

Ordered some stuff on Amazon, including toothpaste like Restore (which they no longer sell) that’s supposed to help close up cavities. Restore was great. I never should’ve stopped using it, but we were pretty broke back when I was first told about it. It was even better than what the dentist gives me and it’s a bit cheaper, too. It’s called Squigle Tooth Builder and it has great reviews.

I also decided to bring back a little of my old artistic side that went dormant the more technical I became over the years. I was into singing, musical instruments, dancing, painting, and drawing before I got hot and heavy into computers, writing and languages. I’ve always been into writing and languages; just not like I have been since the 90s. So I got some sculpting clay and tools.

Got a couple of cute pairs of leggings too, though I don’t know if they’ll fit. If they don’t, I can always return them. One is pink shiny “mermaid scales.” The other has jellybeans printed on them.

I also got a set of light blue Egyptian cotton sheets. I’ve heard good things about those types of sheets and always wanted to try them. So we’ll have that, plus the plum flannel sheets I just got. Anything but that thin crappy microfiber, and jersey material that shrinks like crazy.

Was thinking of going in for CampNano in July but I don’t know that I can focus on that right now. The book I’ve been working on since April probably would’ve been done by now if I didn’t have so much going on, so I don’t know that I’ll even finish that. It’s too bad too, because the story was coming along well.

The light on my toilet, even after changing the batteries, is staying on and we can’t figure out why. It still flushes, though. Tom emailed American Standard and asked why.

SUNDAY, JUNE 19, 2016 Starting this entry off with my glittery rainbow nails. This is by a brand called Diva and is also for little girls or those of us who are all grown up with little girlie-size nails. They were just as simple to stick on and they hold on well. This rainbow is in soft pastel shades of lime, lemon, pink and sky blue. I absolutely LOVE these things. I just have to remember not to rake my fingers through my hair or else the hairs will snag on the backs of the nails.

Went to Walgreens this morning and got the rainbow nails, along with another colorful set of theirs, plus a set from a brand called Impress. This set doesn’t all look the same. It has some plain turquoise nails, some white nails with zigzags of turquoise and gold glitter, and some with just gold glitter. Plus I still have the rainbow zebra set by Little Fingr’s.

I also grabbed a pair of black leggings that finally fit great and I love the super soft material. Gonna run out later while I’m still feeling good for a couple more pairs.

So glad I have been working out like I have as I have this little black spaghetti-strapped dress that was a bit snug in the waist. Well, not anymore, thanks to my dedicated efforts! Planking just 20 seconds a day really goes a long way. Plus I have my cardio and strength training. As for yoga… forget it. I tried and tried but just can’t get into it. It’s just not me.

Anyway, this is the best I’ve felt in a while as short-lived as I know it’s going to be. I felt like utter shit for most of yesterday and the morning started off shitty, too. So much so that I became depressed. They kinda go hand in hand, you know? If you feel like shit physically, you feel like shit mentally.

When I first woke up, I just did NOT want to get up and face the dizziness. But sure enough, not only were the dizzies on, but so was the headache. What is it with all these headaches lately? Tom asked if I was still taking my allergy spray. Yeah, I started back up on it cuz I was getting a little sneezy.

I moved slowly around Walgreens and noticed I began to feel better. Then when we got home, before the bastards could turn our water off again like they did yesterday, Tom dyed my hair. He did a great job. My hair looks the best it’s looked in ages. I’m a brunette again with a hint of deep red. It’s medium golden brown foaming dye by John Frieda.

Later…

Signing in again 98% dizzy-free! I love it! Sadly, though, I can’t believe I’ll stay this way for long. Not gonna work out till the end of my day in case that brings on the dizzies.

The only thing pointing away from our peri theory is how Charlotte said she went through the same thing for a year and never knew why. Well, she certainly wasn’t going through perimenopause. She’s only in her 20s.

Ran back out to Walgreens. By then there were more people, including the standard screaming brat. But I got a couple more pairs of those awesome leggings! They’re all size L-XXL and fit great. So now I have black, pinkish-orange, and mint green.

Last night I dreamed I was staying with Aly. Ugh. How many more years am I going to dream of that liar? The “friend” I could use through all this turmoil when Tom’s not around. She may’ve been clingy and she may’ve put guilt trips on me, but at least she never got fed up with my drama as Tammy seems to have despite rarely having any positive news of her own to report. But hey, that’s why I keep the blog she reads generic.

Anyway, in the dream, Aly was working graves. I sat on a chair in a small room waiting for her to return. I guess I couldn’t go to bed till she got in, or something. I had no lights on in the room and seemed to be the only one in the house. Moonlight or the streetlight shone through a glass door. Finally, I realized it was pointless to just sit there in the chair doing nothing, so I got up intending to color or do some word find puzzles.

I went into a bedroom (a guest room? Her room?) to get what I needed, but couldn’t find a light switch in the dark. My hand ran along the walls only to find no switches of any kind. Finally, I pulled a string in the center of the room with a red feather at the end of it, but that only turned on the ceiling fan. I figured that was ok since I tend to overheat in my sleep.

Then a large orange cat jumped up onto the bed and started swatting at the feather. I tried to discourage it, not wanting it to damage anything, but gave up after a few useless minutes of trying.

SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 2016 Up and ready for another day in dizzy mode, though I expect less anxiety since Tom will be home. No calls about the ultrasound. So everything’s ok? That would be my guess.

Anyway, I felt like such shit in the early morning hours yesterday that it was almost scary. I called Tom once. It eased up as the day progressed. Trying not to think of how many years this may go on and just learn to accept that I just have to live with it, just like I had to learn to live with regular ear pain.

Last night was the first night I slept without lorazepam so we’ll see how long I can go without it. I’ll probably take it the night before I see Stacey, though, so I have a better chance of being well-rested.

Twitter stopped playing their locking games once I got on them about it.

The dream about the old lady in Texas did mean something, as expected. She had an attack that screwed up her vision even more. She can’t even read. She has her daughter do it for her, but she’s out of the country right now, and some volunteer was helping her that got into her account and apparently did some things she wasn’t too thrilled with.

Decided to switch back to a non-electric toothbrush. I realized that the bulk of my cavity issues began when I went electric in the late 90s. Well, if I’ve got soft enamel, wouldn’t it make sense that electric toothbrushes would wear down the enamel easier? Guess we’ll find out soon enough. I know I’ve got something going on in front, though, near where my crown is.

I had a dream Tom and I were on a ship and he wanted to go watch a circus that was performing in the ship’s “auditorium.” Tired and not feeling well, I told him to go on ahead by himself and I went back to our stateroom.

But then it seemed like that room became where we lived. Nice soft recessed lighting was overhead, and I thought how most modern places had speakers in the ceilings as I listened to whatever was playing at the moment. I was also trying to fix something but I’m not sure what it was.

FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 2016 I feel like such shit that I have to do this entry from bed. The persistent dizziness is interfering more and more with my daily life and I can no longer enjoy the things I normally do nearly as much as I used to. I get up, I have a few good hours, and then I spend the rest of my day dizzy. I’m going to have to decide… do I want to live my life in a dizzy state, or do I want to just end it all? Honestly, I don’t think I can stand this much longer. I feel so sickly and unhealthy for someone who is supposedly not, and I really feel like never before that I’m never going to get better. First it was anxiety making me panic and feel like shit and now it’s the dizziness making me panic and feel like shit.

The tapping still helps but not as much as it used to. I feel just awful. I’m constantly dizzy, my legs feel weak, my hands feel jittery, I feel warm, I feel cold, I feel downright SHITTY. I can’t even finish my book, and I don’t know that I’ll be up for CampNano, even at just 10K words. It’s really affecting my ability to live my life and to do things. I want to take up sculpting and get some clay and supplies, but like I’d have the energy or feel well enough to concentrate on that?

The night before last I got up at around 11 p.m. and I felt like shit pretty much until after I met with the vas tech for my carotid ultrasound. I had quite a “bipolar” day. Crying one minute, perky the next. The good thing is that he did say that he didn’t see anything for my doctor to get too excited over, though he could not discuss the particulars with me. What I’m not sure is good is the fact that they called in the evening. I was already asleep.

I asked the guy if nothing bad turned up with the ultrasound, would that mean the dizziness was nothing dangerous. He said not necessarily, but that the ultrasound was a big thing.

I went to bed at around 2 p.m. and at 8 p.m. there was a power failure that lasted for about 20 minutes at which time I got up and took couple of ibuprofen for my ear, which isn’t aching today for the first time in days. I was really hoping that oiling it daily would reduce the dizziness, but we’re both still thinking it’s perimenopause-related. The question is how many months, or years, am I going to have to suffer??? And when this is finally resolved, what will my next problem be? I have done nothing but suffer for the last two years and I’m so sick of it that I’m thinking more and more of ending it all. I just want my life back, just like that woman said in her post, and if I can’t have it back then what’s the point of living? I can hardly do anything anymore. I can, but it’s a struggle and I have to take constant breaks and I have to improvise some things. It’s very frustrating and scary. Do other women really have it THIS bad? I wonder. Or could there be something up there punishing me for who knows what? Due to the fact that I have one long-term problem after another, I have always wondered and if I’m destined to always live like this; suffering one thing after another. One thing I have learned is that the medical stuff is always the worst. How I miss the days when achy teeth and ears were my worst problems along with restless/noisy neighbors.

Bob’s been working around his place the last couple of days, though he hasn’t been noisy. Still, it’s not fair! Here’s this 86-year-old guy with endless energy while I sit in here dizzy, fatigued, depressed, anxious, worried and feeling totally helpless and hopeless. It’s with envy that I saw someone jogging by. I want to go out walking. I want to Bowflex. I want to focus on my story, but it’s a struggle just to bitch and whine in my journal as it is. Tom says there’s nothing dangerous going on with me and that I’m going to get better, but when? When????

I also feel like I have to take a dump a lot when I don’t have to. I realize part of these symptoms is anxiety. Maybe that means the statins didn’t do anything to me after all, though that 135 beat down makes me wonder.

I really hope Stacy has more tricks up her sleeve, because I don’t know that Doc A is going to do much for me. It’s like she doesn’t believe me. I think she thinks all my anxiety is just my phobia of medication. In that case, I’m not going to get her to help me and I might have to see someone else. But will they believe me? Sometimes I wonder if anybody can help me.

When we returned yesterday I actually perked up and had more energy and felt better emotionally even though there was still an underlying sense of dizziness. It just wasn’t as intense. But now it sure is.

The weather has been unusually cold. Yesterday morning was the first time we had to run the heat in the month of June to take the chill out.

Anyway, the ultrasound didn’t take long. What I saw on the monitor made no sense to me, though after looking up a video on YouTube, I learned some things. It made these weird sounds at times like PSHOO! PSHOO! PSHOO!

After we left the building we went to Raley’s where we picked up some groceries and I also found these really cool stick-on designer nails for girls. Because I have small fingers they’re perfect. Grabbed some Always a Flirti nail polish by Nicole too, which is like a frosty red color.

Picked up some ginger ale hoping it would help with the dizziness, because various forms of ginger are recommended, from what I read online, but it hasn’t helped much if at all.

For now, I’m trying to do “easy” things and not worry about the tougher things like book writing that isn’t necessary. So I pulled out some of the old Word Search magazines I’d get in Phoenix and thought I’d do some of them before they disintegrate.

Now that it took me nearly an hour just to write this entry, I’m going to go relax.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, 2016 Happy 22nd anniversary to us! Now if only I felt better. Found a post in a forum describing similar symptoms as mine and they were saying how much they want their life back.

Yeah, I want mine back, too! This sucks. This totally sucks. I know the ultrasound is going to come back normal and I’ll probably be told that I’m anxious no matter how much I insist this is NOT normal for me. I’ve been this way since early April, from what I could tell looking back in this journal.

I felt like such shit yesterday morning that I almost had Tom come home from work. Every day is still a struggle and I have to do things in spurts.

They have three seasons of The Bates Motel on Netflix and I just started watching that. It’s really good so far.

My dark purple flannel sheets and new pillow arrived yesterday, though the pillow is exactly like the last one I got; it’s just a little longer.

We got Cappy a wheel but the bastard won’t use it.

Was thinking of going for CampNano in July where you set your own word count goal (I chose just 10K since I’m often lightheaded and lacking energy), but I don’t know if I can even finish Shane.

Soon I’ll get into bed and try, speaking into my phone into an email draft.

Had a dream I was talking to Andy. I don’t remember what was said; just that he was the one to contact me. Oh, I won’t talk to him if he does. Or to Alison. They blew it for good. Same for Nane and Maliheh, but they’d be the last ones I’d ever hear from.

Then I skipped something called “motto class,” and was given a pass called a “day or daymorrow” by a huge lady in a shiny pink dress. It was a weird one alright. It’s like I was living in some dormitory and I had all these classes. Only I was too beat to go to “motto” class so I skipped it.

TUESDAY, JUNE 14, 2016 Just had to chase two woodpeckers off that were beating on the patio roof. I hear squirrels running around out there now.

I am also feeling totally overwhelmed, totally helpless, and totally ready to give up on my health and my life completely. I fear I’m never going to get better. I don’t know if it’s perimenopause, anxiety, or something going on with my heart/arteries, but every single fucking day I’m lightheaded. I’m dealing with that and fatigue more than anxiety these days.

My ear was bugging me, then it got better, and now it’s bugging me again. Could that be connected to the lightheadedness? Tom doesn’t think so cuz ear-related things usually give you the sensation that the room is spinning and I don’t have that.

I’m just so frustrated I want to beat my head in the wall!

MONDAY, JUNE 13, 2016 Trying to do yoga just now is a sad reality as to just how fat and old and out of shape I’ve gotten. I’m still in shape for things like cardio and strength training, but my joints and flexibility have really gone to hell. I am really starting to feel the effects of my age, something I had hoped not to feel until I was over 65. Instead, I’m feeling old and even sickly. The anxiety has been minimal since I’ve been up, but I’ve had a lot of lightheadedness and some fatigue. I now try to get things done as early in the day as I can because I know I’m going to lose the energy to do much.

I’m sitting here in tears now totally fearing I will never get better no matter how sure Tom is that I will. A part of me wishes they would find something wrong with the ultrasound and tell me that that’s the cause of my lightheadedness and say they can fix it easily enough. But with what? More drugs that I’m going to have a bad reaction to? I feel like I’m stuck in a total no-win situation. I have to choose the lesser suffering. Do I choose to suffer from whatever ails me, or do I suffer the effects of the medication they give me to treat it?

I had the runs last night and I started to feel a spark of hope that it wasn’t the statins after all, but with the statins, I didn’t actually have the runs, I just had to go a lot. It was also for more than one day. The chicken I made smelled a little funny so maybe it was that. Either way, there’s still the beat down I had which is the biggest sign saying that a retrial of the statins won’t work. I really, really hope to hell it does work, but I have my doubts. That’s still almost a month away, however.

I just miss the old me. I miss not having the types of fears and concerns that I have now. The fact that I felt better for most of the night reflects on how much more I was able to get done. I wrote three pages of my story and did other things, but I’m still not right. The person who looked so forward to spending most of her time alone without fear is gone. And so is the person whose worst problem was usually hoping it wasn’t too noisy that day.

When I’m in a good mood and feeling well I tend to run around a lot, and sometimes my body sort of tenses and vibrates with positive energy if that makes any sense. I’ve felt this way less often lately. My mind hasn’t wandered to other subjects as much as it should and usually does. The more I think about anything other than my health concerns, the better I’m doing. But I dwell on my health and simply don’t have the pep I usually have.

The only thing I don’t have now on a regular basis that I had in the past is the beat downs (assuming the statins don’t bring those back), but when I was suffering hardcore anxiety, I didn’t have the fatigue and lightheadedness. The kick-ass anxiety was by far the worst symptom, but feeling like shit is still feeling like shit. The butterflies feel worse, but there are ways to kill them. I haven’t figured out what to do yet for the fatigue and lightheadedness. For now, I sit and wonder… can perimenopause really do ALL this for this long?

As tough as yoga is, I realize I really need to just do the best I can and move my hips, spine, neck and shoulders more often. Especially the hips. The fat will hinder some of my flexibility, but I think I can loosen things up a bit more if I add yoga to my exercise regimen. Different exercises do different things after all.

Later…

Ear got better but is acting up again, so I just oiled it.

Woke up the calmest I have in a week, but then felt faint underlying traces of butterflies. My first thought was that it was a good sign pointing away from the statins, but maybe this is WHY the statins made me feel as they did. I think that no matter what, Doc A is always going to blame 100% of my problems on my medication phobia when in fact that’s just a part of it.

Really hope to hell the retrial works out. Oh, how I want it to! But I honestly don’t see much indication to suggest it will, even with Tom home. Still gonna hope for the best, though.

Was sickened and saddened by the news of some psycho killing 50 people at a gay club in Orlando.

Just think… some hater could’ve come into the Pub or the Frontier in Springfield when Andy and I would go, and gun us all down with an assault rifle.

I don’t know why, but Sarah’s selfies, which are becoming more constant and similar in appearance, really annoy the hell outa me. So, so conceited. Is approval from others really that important to her?

Finished watching Psychic Detectives (wow, if it’s for real), couldn’t get into Aquarius, so I watched a documentary on the world’s most dangerous places. I need to find another series to watch; preferably that doesn’t have just one season.

I’m glad modern shows don’t focus so much on childbirth and child abuse, as that got really old and sad. Today it’s more about political correctness. Gee, what a surprise.

I guess my HR doesn’t have to be in the 60s for good sleep after all. I took a lorazepam after being up 17 hours, then I slept 7 hours without waking up much, yet my HR was in the 70s, 80s and even the 90s. Only once did it hit 69 and it wasn’t for long.

SUNDAY, JUNE 12, 2016 Fell asleep without lorazepam and again I couldn’t stay asleep. HR stayed in the 70s till I took a lorazepam a few hours later and could then get into a deep enough sleep in the 60s.

Although I managed a quick bike ride and a trip to the Walmart we used to go to when we lived in Auburn (ours isn’t open 24 hrs.), I felt like shit most of the day. Goes to prove that while Tom’s presence helps, especially if things turn scary like with killer racy HRs, he can’t make it all go away. I still have the butterflies, fatigue and lightheadedness.

I’m totally losing hope of ever getting better for good. Those pre-Citrus Heights days are gone forever. :( So, so depressing. Sometimes I wonder if I should just kill myself.

I just downed 1.5 chicken wings. Mood’s stable but not normal. What I mean by “normal” is the pre-park days. Lightheadedness and fatigue haven’t set in yet. That seems to happen later in my day. I swear I’d rather go back to being pissed at the whole world if I had to have any negative feelings at all! Worrying about an external source is always easier than when it’s internal and has no end in sight. I get breaks, but no permanent relief and I’m beginning to fear I never will. It’s been 2 long years now. When I said over a year ago, “This is the new me,” I think I was right. This is me now, and I either have to live with this internal torture or end it all completely and hope for the best as far as any possible afterlife goes.

Noisy neighbors, hoping traffic doesn’t wake me up, earaches, toothaches, allergies… how I wish to hell those were my worst concerns! But what if there is a God up there who hates me and plans to make life progressively worse and worse for me? What if my life “peaked” in the Oregon house, that was the best it was going to get, and from here on out it’s just going to get worse and worse? What if I do have a stroke and end up half-paralyzed like my grandmother was?

My moods simply don’t match my life. I have a beautiful house and everything I need and most of what I want. So then I fall apart? WTF? Being anxious doesn’t go with my life, and I wish I could be as sure as Tom is that this is just the perimenopause talking and that it’ll eventually back off for good, but there are no guarantees. The not knowing for sure compounds the misery.

I even had a headache yesterday that was hard to kill and that I rarely get, and my eyes are noticeably worse. I hope the pressure isn’t up! We plan to get eye exams and new glasses during his vacation.

Although it’s a ways off yet I really hope the statin retrial works. I really want it to, but again, there are things that suggest it will while there are things that suggest it won’t.

God damn, do I wish he could be home for 2.5 years like when the economy collapsed! I just don’t look forward to my alone time anymore; a great thing if he were retiring, but he’s still got many years to go and we don’t even know for sure that he’ll retire at 66. Might need to work till he’s 70. In that case, you’re talking over a decade.

He has to work on our anniversary but will be off the next day to cart me to the ultrasound.

I try to think positive thoughts and imagine there are a few people around, but my games don’t always cut it, cuz again, adults just can’t see pretend games through the more convincing and imaginative eyes of a child. I just want to be happy! Carefree. Full of energy. Able to enjoy my hobbies and what I’ve got going for me.

Instead, I know that any second, I will be too lightheaded or fatigued to do much of anything but lay around depressed about it. Better try to get some work done on my story, though, and see if I can finally focus on that before I lose the energy.

First, I dreamed of meeting with Becky from VH only she was skinny unlike in real life. She’s bigger than me.

Then I was sitting on a couch in our “home” with the laptop looking at some survey about food. A female voice listed off names of foods and I muted her. Then Tom appeared to step out from a room from a hallway that appeared both shorter and wider than ours. He cleared his throat and I glanced at him. He wore a strange black robe that was wide at the hem and at the end of the long sleeves. He asked if I was hungry.

Then there was some strange dream about a black woman raping me and later laying in bed looking up at a strange tube of dust and thinking how I should do some serious cleaning.

FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 2016 Woke up feeling the most refreshed and the least anxious in days. Just a touch of “butterflies” early on. Enjoying it while it lasts. Tom is 100% sure and guarantees this will end someday. It better! It’s the most horrible thing I ever endured physically and emotionally. Honestly, I don’t know how many more years of this shit I can take.

He got the days off he wanted, so he’ll be off from July 2-10 using only 4 of his days off. This means that if I can get past the second dose, I will take 5 doses during this time, probably on odd days.

Figuring it was the right thing to do, but knowing they wouldn’t actually call to cry about their “wonderful” daddy, I gave Sarah and Becky my number. As expected, I got a “thank you” from Becky and nothing from Sarah. If people don’t appreciate me in their lives, then why don’t they unfriend me? It could be her grieving and nothing personal, but really, if you don’t want to stay in touch, just dump me. I think I’m pretty used to it by now. I just hope she’s not staying connected out of a sense of duty or anything like that. But the best remedy for those you don’t hear from (unless you ask them a question or something) is for them not to hear from you.

Instead of a simple “thanks,” Sarah’s plastering more and more of the same selfies while her beloved daddy’s dying, and yes, I know this sounds wicked judgmental (that’s part of why I switched to private writing), but it’s a true sign of narcissism. It could also be a low self-image thing, from what I read, where she’s fishing for compliments. She does get them, though I’ve stopped the compliments only because they all look the same after a while and I’m not hearing much in return from her. I hate one-sided relationships of ANY kind.

I reconnected with my top PB besties but haven’t heard from the old lady. Funny too, since I recently had a bad dream about her. Either way, I didn’t feel right about abandoning them for no good reason.

The back light is out. I jumped and waved and it never saw me. Made my 2 rounds around the circle and did my 15 minutes of Bowflexing and 15 seconds of planking (any more hurts my back and abs).

You can’t leave the Bluetooth speaker on, so I learned. After a while, it beeps like a busy signal on a phone.

Later…

Sarah did “like” a post of mine after all where I claim to plan to be too busy to check in much this summer (made visible only to her), so please email or call if anyone needs me. Did she like the part about me not being around? Or the offer to email/call?

Decided I needed a new “game” of sorts to help distract me from my anxiety whenever I start to feel wound up or a little down. For the longest time, I’ve wished I could get into role-playing, but unless I were ever as crazy as Kim, I’m just too old to play pretend games. I’d love to be able to play “make-believe” in the way that I could as a child. As a child, we’re not only quicker to believe what others tell us, but what we tell ourselves as well. With age, however, we tend to lose that brainwashing power. It’s not that I ever believed my pretend games were real or that my imaginary friends weren’t just that… imaginary. But I saw my made-up fun in a whole different light than I could ever see it as an adult.

But interviews… interviews like what Andy would pretend to do as a famous rock star, and what I would sometimes do as well… is a different story. It’s a form of verbal journaling, be it my past, present or future that I may be discussing.

So I chose to do these things when I was lying in bed awaiting sleep. At these times one’s mind tends to wander a bit more and I’m more vulnerable to negative thoughts. Therefore, I pick a person I know or have seen, and pick a random topic to “discuss.” I could talk pet rats with Doc A or languages with Stacey.

As only Tom knows, my talking to pictures was NO pretend game. But it got me rethinking the afterlife again. The pics were the hosts to the entities that dwelled within. But WHO were they? Spirits of the dead? I guess I’ll never know.

I thought I had some dream about winning a vacuum, but I know it doesn’t mean anything.

I also dreamed of riding an electric bike. It went the same slow steady speed of about 5-6 MPH.

Then I felt a lump in my upper right boob in the next dream. I felt that area again a few minutes later and it was gone.

Then Tom and I were sitting in a room by a large window. Andy walked by and waved to us without turning his head. We just laughed at this 70’s hairstyle.

Then I was in our house, which didn’t look like our house as usual (we don’t have a slider), and saw Tom put some recyclables into the regular trash. I told him to stop putting recyclables in there. Then he went out a slider and into a dark chilly morning. A man stood across the street with his hands in his pockets and it seemed like we were in the mainstream.

Then I had some dream about a power outage while sleeping, and peeking into our neighbor’s place, which seemed to be just another room in our “house,” and it didn’t belong to Bob and Virginia. I guess they were about to move, but still had the place set up. Large pictures were on the walls and there was some furniture present, too. Tom told me I should return my barrette to them. I took it out of my hair and placed it on a table by their door.

Later…

Miss Nosy did some more digging into Dr. A. Let’s see… married, no kids (I think), 2.5 stars on Mercy, 3.5 on Yelp, loves to camp, travel, run and bike ride. They all love the same shit, only Dr. O added cooking and gardening, Dr. D playing with the kids.

Well, she’s going in my July CampNano story along with Stacey. Was thinking about the interview game thing and might do something along the lines of that. A wants to learn all she can about someone’s life, for example, cuz she’s involved in a secret medical experiment to see if memories can be altered/destroyed. Then Stacey can rescue her and try to help her figure out which memories are real vs. fake.

I’ve really got to get back on with Shane, though, once I catch up on journaling. Amazing how one who works at home, has no kids, and no real friends can often have so much to say.

Like the fact that I created a document to back up my tweets. I also back them up on my-diary and Prosebox.

Later…

Wanting to understand more of the “logic” American law is based on, I read around a bit. Well, the philosophy is this: Physical wounds heal, but emotional ones don’t. This is why violence isn’t taken nearly as seriously as non-violent crimes and rapists get less time than I got for saying shit no one wanted to hear. A woman can beat the shit out of her BF/husband for cheating and get just days, while thieves get months or even years.

Sorry, but their belief system makes no sense. If you beat someone up; sure their wounds are going to heal, but you mean to tell me they won’t have the memories and be emotionally damaged by the attack as well? If you called me names when I was a kid, of course that would have hurt. Today, I don’t give a shit if some stranger online or on the street calls me fat and ugly. But if they shoot, stab or beat me, that’s going to do a LOT more damage than any nasty words could ever do.

Sometimes I wonder if some of these crazy judges give crazy sentences just to get famous. Getting famous in a good way is like winning the lottery, but getting infamous only takes a second. Just threaten the wrong person online and you’ll be all over the news worldwide, for example. But what a great way for the cock to get famous while remaining within the “law,” huh?

Saw something about witches hexing that rapist who will be serving just 3 months (to lessen the impact on him, said the sick judge). What good will that do? And so what if the American Swimming Association or whatever the hell it’s called banned his membership for life? He can still swim elsewhere. I wish someone would kill him, but if no one killed Casey Anthony, why would anyone kill him? People can only wait till he rapes again and hope that the next time (since rapists can’t stop or be rehabilitated) he’s put away for years if not for good, and raped silly in prison before being killed, thus saving the taxpayers on his food.

Don’t know the details or even what the name is, but someone’s suing Ellen Degeneres for making fun of their name. Now THAT’S a case that may receive some punishment, even against a rich celeb. You know how it is, feelings matter more than the actual damage/crime.

Later…

So I ended up having anxiety when I first got up yesterday, then it backed off from 6-midnight, then returned for about 4 hours till Tom got up. This is the butterfly kind of anxiety. Not the booming heart or anxiety you feel welling up in your chest that’s more associated with when I was on too much levothyroxine.

I wanted to go to bed without lorazepam but felt too wound up and as I’d never get to sleep, so I took it and slept about 9 hours. Fitbit says 8 hours and 26 minutes to be exact.

Sure enough, about an hour after I got up, the butterflies flew outa my adrenaline gland to annoy the fuck out of me till I roasted chickened them away. Had a headache too, and took one ibuprofen. When that didn’t help I took another, even if it meant I might be drowsy.

The emotional tapping isn’t as effective as it was (all good things come to an end while so many bad things don’t), and so much for the power of prayer. There definitely either isn’t a God or it doesn’t give a shit about me. If it did it wouldn’t be letting me suffer so much for so long in the first place.

Again, gotta wonder what I did to deserve this. AND why it keeps coming back. AND when/if it’ll ever stop for good. The not knowing is what’s very hard on me, like when we didn’t know when he’d find work again. He’s totally sure it’s the peri and that it’ll be over someday, and while this makes sense to me (even if A might not believe it), how can I be sure? Yes, it’s hard to believe I’d become this whole different person for no reason just like I tried to explain to C, but what if I’m one of those flukes destined to be tormented till the day I die and no one can ever really help me?

Last night I dreamed I had a job (don’t know what) and I wondered if it would be as easy as I thought it would to just disappear once my schedule prevented me from working.

I also dreamed I was in some place with Andy and Jessie. I’m not sure how many rooms there were, but in the bedroom was one long bed, like a super huge king-size bed, and that’s where we were to sleep that night. The next morning we were to continue on with our travels, be it going home or to wherever we were going next.

The bedroom was off of a large room in which I started to stack a few chairs but then changed my mind. I shuffled some stuff around the bedroom, including a large wad of cash that might’ve been Jessie’s. While I did this I figured I’d have trouble sleeping and would be up listening to music long after they crashed.

THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2016 Sometimes I wonder if I should drop ALL meds and ALL docs. They’ve made me worse, not better. But the suffering I’m once again doing (mostly anxiety in the solar plexus that I call butterflies, fatigue, dizziness and a few hot flashes) can’t have anything to do with the levothyroxine at this point. At least I don’t think I could have pocket flares that could bring my T4 high enough to make me anxious. Plus, this isn’t the kind of anxiety I’d have on the levothyroxine.

Headaches, toe pain, ear pain, anxiety, depression, beat downs, hot flashes, fatigue, lightheadedness… it never ends. Dark thoughts cloud my mind once again, and once again I wonder how much more I can take. Will I ever get better? I’ve been asking this on and off for nearly two years now.

I went from the freeloaders’ grasp to poverty to this. How sad. And yes, very negative. Sorry, sis, but it’s why I resorted to private blogging. I’m having more bad days than good lately. My bursts of wakefulness and energy are getting scarce. Believe me, I actually miss some of my old/lesser problems. I wish noisy neighbors and landscaping were my worst problems in life.

This definitely can’t be a lingering effect of statins either. I felt horrible yesterday till Tom got up, and borderline from when I got up till just a little while ago. I did sleep better last night too, so I took the opportunity to get some cleaning done and did a 10-minute walk by making two rounds around the circle. The weather was beautiful. When I did it a couple of evenings ago it was cool and windy.

I just miss the old me and I wonder if I’m ever going to have her back again for more than a few weeks or a few months if I’m really lucky. I don’t get it… my life gets better, but I fall apart? I’m tired of feeling as tired as an old lady and I’m sick of feeling like the unhealthy person I’m not.

Dr. A continues to frustrate me and said exactly what we expected her to say; that she thinks hot flashes could be responsible for perimenopause, but believes most of my anxiety is my medication phobia. Oh, come on! Anyone knows that my symptoms are very common for perimenopause, and what about my other phobias? I fear spiders and heights yet they never made me feel the way I felt when I was on higher doses of Levothyroxine and when I took the Statin. It’s just frustrating that no one seems to believe me because how can she really help me and work with me otherwise? I just can’t believe that not one single doctor I’ve seen has mentioned peri.

I can’t blame yesterday on the statins since I’m not on them now. Again, I’ve never been this way before two years ago and this is very uncharacteristic of me. No booming heart yesterday, though, and I still worry the statins may have caused that and the excessive bowel movements. It’s sometimes hard to tell exactly what’s causing what when so many things can mimic the same symptoms. But I know what’s normal for me and some things are just rather obvious. Tom and I both would be willing to bet just about anything that the vast majority of my symptoms are perimenopause and that certain medications can enhance those symptoms.

I can see waiting to test my thyroid and cholesterol in the fall, but why wait till then for the estrogen/hormone tests? I just don’t get that.

Another thing that frustrates me is all the fucking foreign doctors out there whose first language isn’t English. This calls for the patients to have a harder time understanding them due to their accents, and them possibly having a harder time understanding us as well. If I wanted an Ecuadorian doctor, I’d go to Ecuador.

Like Tom said, we’re not locked into these doctors or this Medical Group. Yeah, but like Charlotte said, would getting a different doctor or group really make any difference? I would still prefer older American doctors whose first language is English and who are more likely to understand perimenopause if they’ve gone through it themselves. No wonder someone’s review said Doc A doesn’t do well with older patients. 55-57 would be a good age group for doctors for me. Old enough to understand, but young enough to be my doctor as long as we’re here.

Again, I wonder if I should say “fuck A” and try the estrogen Tammy recommended, but you know me… always afraid to try anything.

Although I still think the statins are going to escalate my anxiety and give me the runs and a booming heart again, I’m willing to give it one final try, but as I told the doctor, this might not be until early July. Tom is going to try to get time off around the holiday, which would give him 9 days off counting weekends, and he would only be taking 4 of his vacation days off. I worry about hogging up too many of his days too fast with all the fucking appointments I’ve got. Or worse, he getting fired and then a low-paying job with an American company that doesn’t give as many days off per year. Sometimes I wonder if something up there led him to this job, knowing it was going to pick on me and that I’d need all kinds of doctors. I just want to be happy! I want the anxiety, fears and worries to just fucking stop! Stress is one thing, anxiety is another. I’d rather worry about things in my mind than feel the physical effects of the anxiety like the butterflies and racy heart.

Worst case scenario I tell the doc that Take-Two failed and ask if there are alternatives to statins. If she remains stubborn with a statin-or-nothing attitude and won’t help me find what’s right for me, then yes, I’ll be done with her. Meanwhile, I highly doubt I’ll die the next day or the day after. I couldn’t get that lucky.

She also recommended getting in to see Stacey and a new psychiatrist since Dr. L left. Even though I don’t see what good that’s going to do me, I made an appointment with the only doctor they had available. Sure enough, it’s male and foreign. Asian this time. I looked up Dr. Chiu to see what he looked like and confirmed my Asian suspicions. Can’t get in till December, though. Stacey, I’ll see in 10 days. Her I’m kind of looking forward to even if it’s more time and money that Tom says not to worry about because she really listens and has been the most helpful so far.

I don’t know what to do for now, though. Do I tap more often? Do I try giving prayer another shot? I hate to say it, but coincidence or not, prayer did seem to keep things going in the OR dump as well as after our motel crisis. Only problem is I don’t know if I believe in God, or that it’s a very good God with all the shit I see going on in this world, along with what I’m going through. It’s hard to believe it would care, but I guess it can’t hurt to try.

I looked in last year’s journal for when I did the Return to Sender spell. Did it on December 30th. Things got worse before they got better. The first week of January was bad, then it got better… until the statin. Can one tiny 10 mg pill really do all that? Probably not all of it, but I still think it did part of it.

Then there’s the rock. That possibly cursed quartzite rock from that possibly cursed land. It may seem silly as hell, but just in case unpacking it and handling had a hand in making me worse, it’s sitting out in the trash now.

I can’t help but ask… why is this happening to me so severely? Why do some women make the transition so easily while I get to sit and suffer big time? I feel so cursed, but then I think how lucky I am not to be blind or paralyzed or anything like that.

So much for hoping for a shorter, lighter period. It’s a little shorter, but definitely had more kick than the last one.

Tom said he wants to pull my medical records from the thyroid ultrasound done at Sutter cuz he swears there was something there about my arteries looking good. Well, the 16th will tell us if there’s likely to be any imminent danger, and again, I couldn’t get that lucky. Then again, while dying instantly may be “lucky,” I wouldn’t be so lucky if I ended up parlayed on one side like Nana Bella.

As I was telling Tom, as strange as it may seem, the two years we were in the OR dump may not have been perfect, and I hated the climate, but it’s the only place he and I ever lived where our lives weren’t predominately bad in some way.

Phoenix = money and freeloader issues. Maricopa = money and freeloader issues. Duplex = money and neighbor issues. Dump = winning and shopping. Trailer = money and mutt issues. Here = terror, terror, terror!

And the next state? Really, I hate to think that those two years could’ve been our “best” years despite not having shit. That place was a total dump and we had shit for furniture. I had yet to know what real insecurity was. I could read without prescription glasses. I wasn’t as fat. I had no concept of the true meaning of the word anxiety.

More to write about, but not enough energy. I’ll just end this entry by saying that I “did the right thing” by giving my nieces my number in case they ever want to call and chat. But I’m SO glad to know I’m the last person they’d call to cry about their wonderful little daddy! Again, I’m sorry for them. Being in your 20s is awfully young to lose a parent. But I hate the guy with just as much of a passion as I did in 2000.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 2016 Heard from Tammy who’s in pain and expecting more surgery next Monday. So much for her own positive attitude, but there is some good news… the guy who helped cost me my freedom and us thousands of dollars is now in the hospice. Yay for us, boo for the girls. At least I would think Tammy’s “yaying” and Lisa’s not “booing.” IDK, though, cuz I once saw a pic of her and Bill, arm in arm at some kind of family function, smiling happily at each other, and did a real WTF? I would think Lisa’s more right in the head than she was in 2009 or 2010 or whenever it was that she went ballistic on me, but who knows? Many victims of abuse still worship their abusers, and I even wondered if Tammy was still in love with the bastard when the unwanted subject of him came up in Florida.

I told Tom I hoped to hell his theory of those in the afterlife not being able to affect the living is correct, cuz he’d shit on me every chance he got if he could. Tom doesn’t think he can do anything when you consider how many assholes out there have it well, and how many good people are suffering. This is part of what makes me unsure if there is a God. Besides, if they could influence us, wouldn’t my parents have seen to it that we won big bucks? Well, we didn’t win the smart home in NC or else they’d have ambushed us with the news by now.

So much more I want to write about, but I slept like shit and so I feel like shit. I only slept 6.5 hours and am VERY fatigued and dizzy. Got enough of a period to need to take something for the cramps too, but I’m hoping it will be shorter and lighter like the last one. Hopefully, I won’t have to spend nearly 3 weeks waterlogged before the next one either.

It’s just so fucking frustrating cuz it never ends. I have a few good days here and there and that’s it. I have shit for energy most days where I used to have an overabundance of it. It sucks. It really does. I want to write, I want to take my Italian lesson, I want to work on my story, I want to start some ideas I had, but I just don’t have the energy. Gotta go lay down now. Maybe later I can write more.

Later…

At the risk of sounding as negative as Tammy pointed out… I’m not only fatigued as hell and dizzy (my right ear rang for a minute and I had a huge head rush earlier in the shower) but depressed as well. I cried a bit and wished Tom were up, but was glad he wasn’t so I wouldn’t depress him, too.

I’m just sick of suffering most days and feeling like an unhealthy person who really isn’t. In the past when I’d be shorted on sleep and a bit tired, I’d still be able to get more done than I have today, and I’d even be pissed cuz I’d usually perk up at the end of my day. Only now I’m so fatigued that I feel drugged. I miss my energy! I’m still afraid I’m never going to get better. It’s like sinking into this quicksand you can’t pull yourself out of.

Tom was right… people are either overly sympathetic or they complain that you complain. That’s why I stopped public blogging. I don’t need either one of those things yet I got the same thing when I broke my arm; I either got smothered or turned against. Why is everyone so black and white? But society’s warped attitude isn’t my problem. I’m my problem. And I feel like I’m never going to be able to fix it.

I’m pissed that the doc has blown me off. I feel like she’s not being helpful enough, but when she does do something to help it backfires on me. :( Why can’t I just take whatever pills they recommend and be ok? I am so fucking frustrated that I wonder if I’m going to eventually lose my will to even live. I’m just not a strong person.

I fear that she’ll never believe me no matter how much I try to tell her that extreme anxiety is NOT normal for me and I don’t think it was all just me manifesting the side effects through my fears. I fear spiders and heights, yet still don’t react that way. In my most stressful times in life, I never reacted that way. So why now???

I still want the option of going back to visit Hawaii someday from here or to sail/fly to Jamaica from Florida if we move there, yet none of that will be possible if I feel this bad this often. I’m not having a few bad days anymore. I’m having a few good days. :(

I still like the idea (I think) of moving near family, but then again, what could they do if something went wrong? Tammy’s got her own problems, I don’t know that I trust Becky and Sarah, (especially Sarah), and Lisa wants nothing to do with me.

I think of some aspects of the past and miss them. I didn’t know as much then as I do now, but I also didn’t know what it was like to have scary beat downs and I miss those days. Those young, carefree, adventurous days where my worst crisis was usually a kick-ass sneezing fit. Ugh, gonna cry again. :( Maybe it’s time to tap for depression?

Later…

Well, I did perk up a bit after some tapping, coffee and food, but we’ll see how long it lasts.

I asked Tammy, but she doesn’t know how old Mom was when her periods stopped. This period is still lighter overall in that I haven’t needed a big pad, but who knows what tomorrow may bring? Hard to believe it’ll pick up at this point, though.

If there’s anything good to her marriage with the little weasel not working out (and I told her this) it’s that if it had, she would be about to become a widow and she’s not even 60.

I’d like to think Bill’s suffering, but what’s sad is that unlike what we’ll have, he has this really great support system. If I really did die before Tom, whom would he have? No one? A bunch of strangers who don’t feel anything for him?

Tom said that he sees things differently than I do, and it’s true. He does. He said that even if he got cancer right now, suffered and then died in 5 years, it’s still a small percentage of his life. I totally see his point, but that 5 years may seem like a lifetime. The more we suffer, the more time slows to a crawl. It sure does for me anyway.

I just wish I could stop worrying about an end that’s not here yet. Until something actually happens to one of us other than me feeling like shit, why worry? But I do. All the fucking time. What if, for example, we’re both “destined” to live to 85? Well, that would mean I’d still have 8 years to go after he died. No way. Just no fucking way. Not only would I not be able to fend for myself, but even if I could, I couldn’t live with the horrible, horrible depression of knowing I’d never see him again.

And then there’s the suicide issue. What if I don’t have the guts to go through with it or I fuck it up? If I’m afraid to take something I’m pretty sure won’t kill me, then how could I take/do something I was sure would kill me? So if I couldn’t kill myself, but I couldn’t live, where would that leave me? Forced to commit a crime so I could at least have a prison house/feed me? And maybe give me medication I needed that I could actually stand to take? I would have to do it right cuz I couldn’t stand the depression of not having Tom no matter where I lived.

Later…

Another lie. Yeah, I happened to glance at the list of new users on Prosebox and thought a certain one sounded like something she would pick. Does she want to be obvious? I clicked on the name, and sure enough, I was blocked. So much for “severing” those ties, huh? I knew damn well she/they’d be back sooner or later.

I asked Tom if he thought the constant creating and deleting of accounts meant they were up to no good. He said it could be the case, or they at least think they’re doing something wrong. Whatever the reason, I’m SICK to death of them playing victim over there. So not wanting to be public anymore anyway, I deleted that account and disappeared in the night. Now they can only play their blocking games on Google and Facebook. Pretty sure they don’t use LiveJournal, and my-diary has no blocking. Also, if they do block me on other sites, I won’t know it.

I created another account in a bogus name. I casually scanned the room and my eyes rested on a doll called Peyton. So Peyton I am, with a close-up of a golden retriever for a profile pic. No age, gender or bio info is visible on me, though the gender should be obvious. Most people who keep a journal/diary are female anyway.

What was surprising was that after resurrecting my old Twitter account long enough to mention SaltyAlty and call out an account of Kim’s, which I even tweeted to, she totally ignored me. I fully expected her to run and change the link, but nope. So now I’m back to using just my secret Twitter account to tweet whatever comes to mind, some of which I may not even bother to mention in my journal.

I copied all my Prosebox books to the new account but the journals. I have a plan for that which I’ll discuss in my next entry. I’m out of energy to write much more, and it looks like today’s Italian lesson and getting any work done on my story will be out of the question.

A couple of quick dreams: In one, I was being interviewed. The interviewer and I were outside a poor, rundown apartment complex with the neighborhood people watching.

“You recently moved from a posh neighborhood to this. How does it make you feel?” the interviewer asked me.

“Well,” I said, “the other place was more comfortable, but poor folks are more real.”

Then there were the pistol-packing ladies in pink gowns. I was talking with a woman about guns, and she pointed to a picture of some people at some social event. Her daughter wore a long hot pink gown, and she told me she had a gun on her. I thought she hid it very well as the woman went on to say that she’d had some weird boyfriends, so the protection was nice to have.

TUESDAY, JUNE 7, 2016 Period’s late again. I get watery and my boobs get sore, then it lessens. Then it creeps up on me again. But no period other than that spot from two nights ago.

Did a quick public entry on Blogger and then on Prosebox to let Karen know about the anxiety. Charlotte said it probably wouldn’t be helpful to get a new doctor since they can’t know about every single symptom but the important/common ones.

Then this came in:

Jodi, Dr A and I reviewed your message below and we understand your anxiety regarding taking medications. We are very concerned about your risk for cardiovascular disease including heart attack and stroke at a young age due to your very elevated cholesterol levels. You are likely having a surge of stress hormones related to your worries about medications–this leads to symptoms of elevated heart rate, shaking, diarrhea, sometimes even lightheadedness. We recommend a re-trial of the pravastatin at this very low dose. We could even arrange for you to take this in the clinic for the first and second doses so that you have medical attention for evaluation if needed. We really want to work with you to reduce risk and try to calm your fears related to these medications.

Please let me know how you want to proceed.

As I explained to them, the symptoms didn’t start as soon as I took the medication. I explained that I took it Thursday and Saturday night and that I awoke a few hours after the first dose with a sore throat, which Tom also had, and that went away in a day. The frequent bowel movements started right away, but the attack occurred about a day and a half after the last dose.

Again, having found it listed as a rare but possible side effect online, and not having this kind of anxiety before a couple of years ago, makes me think the peri is affecting how the meds affect me. I still don’t think it’s all just me worrying. I was actually beginning to relax and think I had it made after the second dose.

Although… I was first started on a higher dose of Simvastatin, so if it was really that that caused some anxiety, all the shitting I did, and the weight loss, why did it take half a year to do it?

So some things support their belief that it’s just my phobia making me anxious, while others suggest it’s the peri/meds.

Although it was rough, this time around was less hellish than when the levothyroxine got me last fall. This time I didn’t have the band of tightness around the chest or any funky emotions. I just felt wound up and then my heart took off booming. Not quite as fiercely as when I was on the levothyroxine, but fierce enough to make me very glad I wasn’t working out at the time.

Not sure what they mean by “clinic” either. I’m assuming this means that I would take the meds at their office and not a hospital? If I could have a doctor around 24-7 then I would consider a retrial, but I don’t think they’re going to put me in the hospital for this. Besides, even if they did, what’s to say I might not have problems later on down the road?

Then Tom had an idea. After I clarified things for them and told them I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do next, he said to wait till I heard back from them and think about him taking a week or so off from work. Aw, that’s so sweet of him. I feel so grateful yet so guilty at the same time. Not a great way to spend time off, though I’m sure he’d agree that anything is better than working. He gets 5-6 hours off for every 2 weeks of work.

Last night I had a dream I was talking to Linda Ronstadt, only she looked young and thin again. I told her I once had a crush on her and asked her what she thought of that idea. She smiled, laughed, and didn’t seem fazed or offended by the idea, but then she started talking about God, and I immediately regretted revealing my crush.

In another dream, I was in a beauty store of some kind where there were scattered sections of nail polish. I had most of them in my collection and was telling a mother and daughter about the ones I had.

The daughter commented on a bright glow-in-the-dark color and I told her I had that and that it was lighter than it appeared.

The mother then showed me her deep purple nails and I said, “That’s Twilight. I have that one, too.”

MONDAY, JUNE 6, 2016 Bad news. News I wouldn’t dare tell Tammy or anyone else.

The statins backfired on me. Just when I thought I had it made, too. I noticed I felt more on edge than usual last night. I wrote it off to just being nervous about it being the start of the workweek and him having to work every single day, even though it seemed a bit extreme since my anxiety has been mild since January.

I went to bed and told myself I’d feel better in the morning, especially since I wouldn’t be getting up too early, and therefore wouldn’t feel like I had as many hours to be alone. But I lied to myself as much as Dr. A apparently did when she told me it couldn’t cause anxiety. Well, it can. It’s rare, but according to what we found online, it very well can. Even the pharmacist was dishonest, in a sense, by saying it couldn’t kill me. You can actually have a life-threatening allergic reaction from it.

I felt an underlying sense of anxiety since getting up at 10:30, but managed to get through the day’s planned housekeeping. Then just after 2pm, my heart pounded into the 130s. Well, Fitbit showed it at 135, but online it was averaged out to 116. I don’t wear it round the clock, but mostly when I sleep instead. It was too fast and too hard. Let’s just put it that way. This isn’t my only symptom. I’ve also been shitting my ass off.

So Tammy and Karen in Texas were right… statins CAN cause anxiety. Why did Doc A lie to me? Now I’m wondering if I should get another doctor, though I hate to have to put myself out and start all over again with yet another doctor. She should’ve told me anxiety was unlikely but possible.

Because I panicked and called Tom, he suggested seeing Stacey again, and I might if it doesn’t ease up soon. I’m hoping it won’t take 3 months to recover since I didn’t take it for a month like I took the 88s for a month.

Although the attack didn’t last long, I had a horrible thought later on. It’s not likely, but what if I had a pocket flare and the anxiety is from my thyroid meds? God, I hope not! No tightness in the lungs, though, or funky emotions, so I’m still hoping it’ll dissipate soon… even though my problems are rarely short and sweet.

I’m 99% sure it is the statins, and this has taught me something, too. The weight I lost two summers ago was because of the statins, not the levothyroxine, which would explain why I didn’t lose weight last fall. The statins don’t just make me anxious; they lower my appetite and make me shit up a storm.

Another strange thing (though I don’t think this has to do with either drug) is that I can’t try to get myself off without my heart pounding like a motherfucker. In that case, there’s no anxiety involved; it just pounds like a possessed hammer.

I guess something up there doesn’t want me taking anything to keep me from a stroke or a heart attack, though Tom says there are alternatives to statins. Like what? And what’s to say they won’t cause the same problems? It seems I can’t take hardly anything without it fucking me up. I’m just tired of suffering! TIRED of it! We’ve almost been here 3 years and I’ve suffered about two-thirds of the time. As I told Tom, I worry I won’t make it to his retirement and to get out of here someday. He said I thought the same thing about the trailer. True, but you know what? I’d rather die of a sudden heart attack than live to suffer! You know that perfect vision I said I missed most from my youth? Not anymore! I miss not having anything worse than a bad case of stress. Never did I have anxiety like I’ve had the last two years.

I was hoping I’d feel calmer with age, but an article I read doesn’t suggest I will. It said that older people have more problems, so they worry more. Also, they take lots of medications, many of which can make them anxious. Not very promising, but I think I’ll feel better when Tom’s retired if I live that long. I miss the days of feeling smothered by his constant presence like when he was on unemployment. I used to love spending most of my time alone. Not anymore!

I was stunned when Tom read an article about a guy with arrhythmia whose heart was clocked at 310 BPM!

I’m not sure I can fully trust A. She’s going to leave me with sleeplessness and lightheaded issues (other than to do the carotid ultrasound) all summer long? And she’s going to tell me something can’t cause anxiety that can?

I messaged her, told her what happened, and that I was stopping the statins.

Tapping still helps, but it doesn’t get rid of the anxiety completely or keep it from returning when it does. Speaking of it, though, all of a sudden I feel fine again. breathes a huge sigh of relief I don’t know how long it’ll last but I’m THRILLED to say that I just noticed I suddenly went as calm as can be. No anxiety. It’s like it’s gone. Just gone. I’d be shouting for joy if Tom wasn’t asleep, but instead, I cry tears of relief after crying tears of frustration and depression. I hope the worst of it is over! Anxiety is THAT bad. I’d go blind and gain 100 pounds first. Still concerned with what the future may hold, but gonna enjoy this wave of calmness while it lasts.

Wonder if the Ylang Ylang helped at all. I just remembered that when the dentist and I were talking about oils, she mentioned lavender and Ylang Ylang having calming effects. I knew about the lavender, but not the Ylang Ylang, so I threw a few drops in the diffuser.

Managed to work out, though not as long as I wanted to. I was hot, flushed in the face, lightheaded, and my heart pounded.

Anyway, my carotid ultrasound has been rescheduled for 8am on the 16th. Just not sure what doctor I’m seeing at the sleep clinic. I was given one name over the phone, but another name has been checked on the pre-appointment questionnaire I received today.

As for my period… it’s getting stranger all the time. Had a spot last night, but absolutely nothing today. Still got sore boobs and lots of water on me, though.

I rearranged some areas of the laundry room, hallway, and bedroom. I’m a little tired and lightheaded to do much more than listen to my audiobook for the rest of the night, but anyway, I came across a couple of rocks, one of which I shouldn’t have saved.

The first one is a white rock I got in SoCal in the mid-90s. Hardly exciting anymore since I now live in the state.

But then there’s that quartzite rock from our Maricopa land. If the land was as cursed as it seemed to be, then was it wise to take the rock from it? My life may not have gotten nearly as terrifying there as it has here, but it was pretty damn shitty being a slave to the freeloaders and courts the way I was. They fucking owned me. I wasn’t me for most of the 5 years we were there. I was just a number.

In my dream notes, I wrote that I was bike riding at night and something about parked cars and Donna A, the old evil witch, but can’t remember any details. Oh well.

SUNDAY, JUNE 5, 2016 This is too funny. Tom went to the grocery store and said he decided to try Gelato instead of ice cream to see what the difference was. I burst out laughing and let him know that Gelato was simply the Italian word for ice cream. So he really wanted to see if there was a difference between ice cream and ice cream, LMAO!!!

We went to the pool and it was nice. Just slightly chilly, but nice. It’s in the mid-90s out there.

Met a woman named Mona who works full time (and of course she couldn’t be our neighbor) who was nice, but never shut up. I prefer those that talk here and there as opposed to non-stop where you just want to cork their mouths with your flip-flop.

Doing the emotional tapping and feeling more awake so far today. No pain, minimal dizziness.

The pill dreams are back, but the last one I had didn’t scare me at all, and probably wouldn’t have even if Tom hadn’t been home. I took a small cupful of 8 tiny pills in the dream but wasn’t trying to kill myself or even scared. They were pills I had to take for some reason. I dread the day I’m on that many pills!

Rode my bike alone in another dream and turned around somewhere at the bottom of the rollercoaster. I felt ok; I just needed to get back in a hurry for some reason, unless I was going somewhere else.

Had a dream that the old lady in Grande Prairie was frail and ill. I hugged her and told her she’d been like a grandmother to me.

Wondering if something was wrong with her in real life, I did a FO entry, but she did view it, so she’s alive.

SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 2016 OMG, Facebook really needs to stop shoving headlines in our faces! Argh! I’ve had it so much with them (and the lack of privacy issues) that I’ve removed Facebook from my toolbar so I don’t absent-mindedly click in. I’ll check it every other day by accessing it the old-fashioned way.

A fucking judge (it’s gotta be male) gave a rapist just 6 months instead of 6 years in jail to “lessen the impact” on him.

That’s what I got for a fucking letter! OMG, I wish I could strangle both the rapist and judge to death right now! Ugh! So mad now. So yeah, it’s best that I blog for myself. I don’t think my “negativity” has others concerned only for how it could affect me, but for how it could affect them as well to read it. And sometimes, like it or not, my “negativity” is just the truth. It’s a very negative article I’m talking about, but it happened. It’s real. And I’m through with the people-pleasing shit. Tammy may’ve really meant well, but how much of her “concerns” were that she was just tired of reading it? And then why did she continue to anyway?

I can’t fucking believe, though I can, that a rapist would get what I got for words on paper. And all because it was to a black person. Had the person been white I may’ve gotten 90 days if even that.

Thanks, God. You’re just so fucking wonderful.

Throat’s ok, slept ok, but after I ate the fatigue got me again, another thing Tammy wouldn’t be too thrilled to hear. “Perimenopause is rough,” she said. Yes, it is. And I have a right to say so in my journal, too. That’s what it’s FOR.

I complained to Twitter Support – yes, another negative thing – about the lockout issues, which I suspect, are glitches on their part, but they’ve ignored me. I wonder if Aly’s account wasn’t deactivated but locked. Maybe I’ll return to Histofme if it happens a 4th time.

Later…

Had so much fatigue today that I couldn’t finish writing. That’s the beauty of private writing; no deadlines to feel pressured into meeting. Throat’s ended up being sore on and off too, but Tom’s also had a scratchy feeling in his throat. Really hope it’s not my statins! Taking my second dose tonight, so we’ll see.

While I had a burst of energy I got a head start on the home reorganization project I’ve been planning for weeks. I’m looking forward to doing more of it as energy permits.

Tom replaced the broken stem in my shower and while it may not look the greatest, it’s much easier to turn on and off and doesn’t drip.

For last night’s dream, I got a call about a job, had ice cream late one night somewhere with Tom before we caught a bus, and played with an adorable brown rat Tammy might’ve caught from wherever. It was cute and playful. I kissed its back and Tammy shrieked, “Don’t touch him!” I asked why and she said, “Because we don’t know where he’s been.”

FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 2016 Happy 29th birthday to Becky, and thank you, Tammy, for clinching my decision to stop public journaling. Now I have the freedom to say what I want, whine all I want, be as negative as I want, be as controversial as I want, be as blunt as I want… all without censoring names or anything personal.

It's not that she said anything wrong and it isn't that she didn't have a point when we talked yesterday and she mentioned that my blog was very negative and that it was affecting my health and moods. Even so, to me, nobody should hold back in their journals, even if that means an over-expression of negative thoughts, experiences and feelings.

When she mentioned my fear of being left alone, she was under the impression that I felt this as of just last week instead of months ago, and I realized that she had no concept as to the depth of what I went through, saying I’ve got it made compared to her and others, I’d never make it in her shoes, etc. She’s probably right, but her suffering doesn’t devalue mine. Yet understandably, it's very hard to really relate when you haven't gone through something somebody else has. Without experiencing firsthand how the higher doses of Levothyroxine affected me both physically and emotionally, she's never going to get just how bad it was. It was a medical disorder making me have those fears, not a conscious choice. I didn't choose or decide to feel afraid. Still, I get her point. She may not get it like many don’t get my sleep disorder, but yeah, I can be harsh and negative all the way.

But the thing is that while I don’t want to worry others or bring them down in any way (is it really anyone’s business anyway?) I have a right to be me. I don’t feel ashamed or a shred of guilt for speaking my mind and I welcome back the days of writing for me and for me only. I miss being “selfish” with my writing. Unless it was a work of fiction I was being paid fairly for, I never wanted to write for an audience. Yes, public blogging was fun and maybe I’ll return to it someday, but people reading and commenting on my journals have lost its excitement, and visitor tracking is nothing new anymore either. So… time to write for me and be me. I’m not even going to worry so much about spelling and grammar. Just gonna pour it all out.

I’m nobody’s liar. I’m not going to sugarcoat a negative experience or omit it completely just to not come off as negative. I’m going to do what I’ve always done and simply write what comes to mind. Sometimes it will be negative. Sometimes it will be neutral. Other times it will be positive. But yes, I need to worry less and think more positively. It’s just hard to when you’re either worried or not feeling well.

I’m still going to use my blogs because the different platforms are fun and they make for a good backup. They just won’t be public. I know my 4 Prosebox besties are going to wonder where the hell I am, but I get a kick out of Andy and Aly wondering where the hell I am. I mean, sooner or later they’re going to check out my blog out of curiosity, I would think.

So I’m going to blog privately on Blogger and Prosebox and put a hold on my dream blogs for now. They really don’t serve much purpose anyway, and I can always gather future dreams to post later on if I want to.

Not gonna back these posts up to blogs every single day. More like every 10 days or so.

Might also drop the book list, too. It serves no real purpose either. I don’t need to remember what I’ve read cuz Amazon tells me if I accidentally go to order a book I’ve already got.

Since I only have one appointment between now and September, believe it or not, I think I might take a break from my allergy spray. It’s not the time of year for nasal allergies, but if I have an attack, at least I won’t have to worry about sneezing through appointments and can jump back on it if need be.

Finally slept better last night and therefore I’m in a better mood. Got the laundry done today, the grocery list, and completed a handful of other tasks. I found a good way to use up our remaining pods as we transition to liquid detergent, is to put it in the sock bag. That way it can’t get stuck in the seal again.

So while it was through teary eyes of fear that Tammy and most of the public wouldn’t get, I bravely swallowed my first half a Pravastatin last night. Woke up with a slightly sore throat, but then it diminished. Hopefully, it won’t become more of an issue the more I take. I would really like to safely reduce my risk of a heart attack or a stroke, something no one wants to believe can really happen to them.

I don’t fucking believe it. Twitter locked my account again. It’s GOT to be a glitch. Again, I verified my number, unlocked it, then deactivated it. I’m not going to play games with these assholes.

Last night I dreamed I was checking out pictures of Alyssa on my computer with Tom asleep in the adjacent room. As usual, the place didn’t look like ours. I heard a bump and assumed that Tom bumped his arm against the exterior wall above his bed.

Ah, it was nice to write like it was pre-June of 2008 again!

THURSDAY, JUNE 2, 2016 Today’s observation: Aly changed her Twitter handle, not surprisingly. Well, I actually noticed last night. I was surprised I never found the new one through a friend of hers. I would love to think she finally had enough of Kim’s shit and just dumped her and Twitter forever while she sits and regrets dumping her one sane friend that was honest with her, but I’m sure she just didn’t re-follow the friend, knowing anyone could look for her that way.

I’m so done with her, though, that I deleted her from my contacts on my phone. Under no circumstances will I ever again talk to her, Andy, Maliheh, Paula or Nane. It was her decision to throw me away and she’s going to have to live with it.

The only thing that confuses me (not that I’m complaining) is why I haven’t heard from Molly or her mother. Scared of me? Yeah, probably. They should be too, though any future contact would go ignored unless they wouldn’t let me ignore them. Like I should have taught the freeloaders, put your hand far enough into a lion’s den and you just might not be able to yank it back out so easily.

I expected to sleep better last night, even without lorazepam, but instead, I slept worse. Finally took a lorazepam 4 or 5 hours after waking up constantly and slept a little better from there on out. Like it or not, I’m going to have to take one before bed till I get through this so I can sleep shitty instead of super shitty.

Just wondering what it was I did to deserve this shit. It’s like I’m healthy but don’t feel healthy. Technically I’m healthy, but with so many issues to deal with, minor or not, and with so many appointments, I feel like I’m anything but healthy. Again, I wonder what I did to deserve it, but that’s just the thing. Just like so many people tell themselves there’s a good loving God up there, I tried to tell myself I must deserve to suffer for some reason, but you know what? I don’t. I don’t deserve to suffer. I may not be perfect, but I didn’t beat anyone up. I didn’t rip them off. I didn’t break into their house. And I don’t deserve to suffer.

I just feel overwhelmed right now. I’m starting the statins tonight so I’m anxious about that. I’m a bit down now, but mostly pissed, frustrated and feeling helpless. While it’s great that I’ll only have one appointment between now and September, I’m not going to the lab or the sleep doctor until then. So what do I do in the meantime as far as my sleep goes? Just continue to not sleep and to feel like shit most of the time? She was afraid to recommend anything OTC, saying she wouldn’t have any way to guarantee side effects as easily that way.

It really sucks because while I’m tired, I’m not tired enough to go back to bed for another hour or two and catch up on lost sleep. So I’m dragging all damn day with barely enough energy to do things. I do them, but I really have to push myself and take several breaks along the way where I just close my eyes and rest.

I don’t get it, though. My sleep HR did register low enough for better sleep, yet I kept waking up constantly. I even woke up warm once and my heart was about to take off racing. I pushed the covers off and let the air from the fan rush over me.

Anyway, I’m on for Dr. A, the sleep doctor, and my dentist in September. I scheduled the ultrasound for the 13th, but might have to reschedule because Tom doesn’t think my schedule will line up for that day. Me and my fucking math!

I’m going to hold off on bumping the dentist up sooner because I haven’t had much pain in that tooth. Fortunately, the sleep doctor seems to be an American guy. I just get sick of the funky accents, and getting American doctors these days is hit or miss. Trump wants to “make America great again?” Let’s try putting the American back in America.

Since nothing lasts forever and I assume that someday – someday – this shit will end which I still suspect is mostly perimenopause-related (possibly sleep apnea, too), it’ll just be on to something else. I seem to have one long-term problem after another. I still say it was a lot easier being broke.

At least it hasn’t been noisy today… yet. Yesterday it was landscaping, and the day before that it was 45 minutes of sawing trees, but that wasn’t in the park. That was just over the wall where the golf course is. The car stereos, also which might not be coming from in the park, are totally annoying at this time of year. Not even an hour passes that I don’t hear one thumping by. I STILL can’t believe the damn things are STILL legal. But don’t you dare hurt anybody’s poor precious, sensitive, eggshell feelings with your opinions and beliefs! rolls eyes

It’s been very hot and dry. It’s nice in the shade, but my God have I gotten sun-sensitive lately! Is it age? Cuz I’m fat? Something else? I just can’t handle being in direct sunlight for long when it’s over 80° unless I’ve got a pool nearby.

To finish up with yesterday… We went to Smog-n-Go for emissions testing which took no time at all since it’s a luxury car. Didn’t care for the little girl in the waiting room who just couldn’t shut the hell up. Not just that, but the damn brat was so LOUD. I could hear it all the way in the bathroom. After several minutes of waiting outside, its father led it to their car and it was still yacking non-stop. How do the parents deal with this shit on a regular basis and not want to tear their hair out, throw their hands up and scream, “Will you just shut up already!” My mother never would’ve let me go on at the mouth that loud or that consistently. It’s like, my God, make it come up for air at least while it’s around other people, will ya?

Went to Chili’s after the car was done and got beef quesadillas and French fries that weren’t very good. Our food only cost $3, though, since we used the GC he got from work.

Went treasure hunting at the GW after that and got a couple of sun catchers and a pair of pink scissors.

Last stop was to Walmart to pick up my statins. I’ll be anxiously starting that tonight. I just want to stop having so many damn problems! I miss those 15 years I didn’t go to doctors, though right now my biggest problem is sleeping. I just want a decent night’s sleep a little more often. Is that too much to ask for?

As for my weight… I’ve been in the low 150s lately and decided to compromise. Although I still don’t think I can do it, I’ll aim for 145 rather than 120. I shouldn’t have any issues at that weight. It’s only 6 pounds away, but to an older woman with Hashimoto’s, it may as well be 60.

Last night I dreamed we were still living with Jesse. He had one of his many projects lined up and I asked him when he planned to start working on whatever he was going to work on next. He said, “I don’t care about your schedule.”

I told him well, I did care and was asking so I could be up when he’d be working.

Then I was sitting by an indoor pool of his. A few others were swimming in it. At one point I patted some guy on the back and told them they were like a big brother to me. They didn’t seem too thrilled with that idea.

Then we were in a hotel. I was asleep when a few bumps and bangs woke me up from the next room. I got up, thinking it was daytime, but then when I looked out the window I could see it was still the middle of the night.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 1, 2016 Just noticed Maliheh’s got me blocked again, and no, I have no idea why any more than I can guess why Twitter locked my old account the last time they locked it. Could be the “I’d wish you a happy birthday if I gave a shit” photo card I sent her two weeks ago, but that was sent by email, not Facebook. I’ll check every month or so to see if she unblocks me again. As soon as she does, I’ll take the honor of blocking her… for good.

As for Kim, she’s definitely not reading my blog and I’m not going to bother with any further “tests” on her. I don’t care what else she sees/blocks. I just wanted to get away from her on Twitter where she has a million accounts to block me from and knows I can’t track her. She had to have been checking my tweets every few hours, though, based on how fast she’d change links after I’d mention them.

Woke up a million times throughout my sleep and slept worse than usual as Fitbit reflected. My HR only dropped to 73. It needs to be 68-71 to get me in a sound sleep. Tom noticed the same thing with him. After a good night’s sleep, he finds he drops to the high 40s, but only to the low 50s when he doesn’t sleep well. Now that my appointment is over and I have a better sense of what’s going on, I’ll probably sleep better tonight. Maybe even without the lorazepam. She’s ok with me taking it before bed if I need it, though.

Got up at 6am, took my thyroid meds, had coffee and a kiddy smoothie in a half-hour, then we were on the freeway just after 7:30.

Every year they give you a Depression Screening questionnaire, so I filled that out, confirmed my meds, then took Tom back in to see A with me so he could be an extra set of ears in case I forgot anything.

My BP was 150/90 but only cuz I was nervous. My pulse was 88, but it’s normal for me to be high.

While my lungs and heart sounded good, the doctor talked me into taking half a 10-mcg tablet of Pravastatin every other day. That’s a little less scary than daily Lipitor at 20 mg. She assured me it can’t kill me and to just stop it and let her know if I have any problems like muscle aches. For some reason, I was under the impression it could paralyze your muscles and then kill you cuz you couldn’t breathe. She said it wouldn’t make me anxious either. According to her, I should worry more if I didn’t take it than if I did as my numbers are high and so is the risk of stroke and heart attack.

While I agree that it was the wrong dose of levothyroxine that was causing my killer anxiety and not the 25 mg of Simvastatin I was on a couple of years ago, I still have a medication phobia in general, so starting the Pravastatin is going to be a little scary. I appreciate her patience and understanding, though. As she told me the first time I saw her a year and a half ago, it’s best to expose people to what they’re afraid of in small doses, pardon the pun.

She also wants to do an arterial ultrasound for what I believe is my carotid artery to make sure no blockage has been causing my dizziness. Dizziness has been better overall, though.

We discussed my perimenopause symptoms and the trouble I’ve been having sleeping, as well as my non-24 sleep disorder and suspicions of sleep apnea. She thought it would be best to go to the Sleep Disorder clinic and talk to their specialist before participating in a sleep apnea test, which will be VERY hard for me. Not just because of schedule issues but because I’m used to sleeping with a loud sound machine since everything wakes me up, and I mean everything. Forget the loud traffic and landscaping sounds; if Tom so much as sneezes or uses the microwave if I sleep with no fans or sound machines, I wake up instantly. So to fall asleep with no sound machine in a strange environment will be quite a challenge. Still not sure it’ll come to that, though. Also, she said there was a test that could be done from home, but it’s not as accurate.

Because lorazepam is a narcotic, I had to sign their yearly contract and take a random urine test. That was easy enough as often as I have to pee. At least I didn’t have to endure the humiliation of it being observed!

We explained how they wanted to charge us money we’ve never had to pay before at the lab and canceled the test after waiting for nearly an hour for nothing after having my thyroid tested 6 weeks ago. Apparently, they read the computer dates wrong. They need to stop doing that, too. That really bothers me when I end up put out due to their carelessness. What if it were something dangerous?

So as O and I agreed, my thyroid is just a hair above normal and I feel best with my T4 at 1.0 – 2.0. So I’m staying on 75 mcg.

In 3 months I’m to report back to her. The week before that I’m to go to the lab for the following list of tests.

Lipid Panel wRfx Direct LDL

CK Total

FSH Follicle Stimulating Hormone Level

Luteinizing Hormone LH

Estrogen Level Total

TSH Ultrasensitive (3rd Gen)

T4 Free

[rat-slaughterer]

"... Riiiy-ght! Sleep...-ing... That's what I meant. Definitely." And he most definitely didn't mean that he would be hiding under those aforementioned cushions, sniveling like the little coward he is. Noooo, an invader such as himself would never do something like that, under any circumstances. "I like sleep! It's fun." Like a TV program designed personally for you, by you.

You, who knows all your deepest secrets and pleasures and regrets. Who knows just what to dream up to have you waking up with a sudden yelp. Good stuff. "Who says having a PAK makes you not wanna sleep, huh? I don't need to do it. I know you don't need to... do. Whatever thing you do that you don't need to." With some trepidation, he whispers a quiet "music...?" under his breath. Do vortians even like music?

Another bump hits the metro train. Yeesh, this trip almost seems like it could go on forever. Maybe he could blast a hole through the top and just sneak off. Live in the fields, frolic, whatever. At this point, all he wants is to be able to get up and move around.

Oh, but those damn nuns... They’d probably look at him all funny if he did that.

He settles for swinging his feet.

They turn from damsels cowering in the corner to gossipy grandmas in a matter of seconds, after hearing Hal’s question. Skoodge jumps in his seat, looking at her like she just asked him if he killed her pet grumbling, then switches his gaze between her, and the nuns, and back at her, eventually landing more permanently on the nuns.

One of his brows begins to twitch in irritation, peeking out from under his shades with every little jerk up. "... Hey, hey, now! Haven’t you never heard of nun-ya?”

They all collectively shake their heads.

Skoodge stands from his spot, and pulls out what appears to almost be a cross from his PAK  – but the more it pulls out, the more it becomes recognizable as an ordinary space-broom that just has a weird handle.

Brandished with a flourish like a genuine knight from medieval times, or maybe a really serious LARPer, Skoodge begins pushing the nuns out from the corner with the bristled end. "It’s nun-ya business! Get on! Get lost! Shoo-oo! Shoo!"

They scramble on all fours, chittering like rodents, flooding the only exit as the metro makes a stop and then squeezing themselves through the doors before they even finish opening. Skoodge forces the last of them out with one more push, and huffs, twirling the broom around until it’s settled at his side, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Rude.”

The doors close once more. Hal’s question still hangs in the air, unanswered.

His gloved fingers tap at the handle of his broom.

“... Why would it matter if I did? Aren’t you supposed to think all irkens hate everyone that isn’t them, anyways? Or something like that?” One side of his mouth pulls in a half-grimace, and he turns to face the vortian girl. “That... is, what you guys think...?” he asks, unsure of how other species are supposed to perceive his own. Generally, with fear. Maybe anger or repulsion, too, if they’re confident enough.

@vortship continued from here

Skoodge sits, leaned forward, cheek pressed into his fist propped up by the elbow on his knee, looking absolutely bored out of his mind. His PAK? Both. He's bored out of both.

Sat to Hal's left, fitted in a, frankly, terrible disguise. Worse than Zim's, even, with shades in place of contacts and a brimmed hat in place of a wig. In all honesty, the irken couldn't care less about how unconvincing he looks.

Though... if he'd known how long this excursion was going to be dragged out for, he might have dressed for the occasion, and actually put some effort in to make himself look more like a human.

A harsher bump hits the moving metro, causing Skoodge's fist to slip out from under his head. He almost falls forward, but manages to stop in time. After righting himself, he decides to just sit straight up, both his hands limp at his side. Empty, mind you. Spare of any success. Not a single plastic grocery bag in sight.

Gosh, this blows.

And by Zog, the nuns. "Eurgh..." He can't wait for them to drop off at one of the next stops. If it doesn't happen some time soon, he's going to make his own stop and crash through the window behind him.

"You said it. I wanna hide in the cushions so long I turn into one." With the various goos and gunk, wedged, buried along all crevices of the fiery orange couch in Zim's base, melding into the furniture isn't too far-fetched of a thought.

[brascu]

warning for spoilers from season 3 

alright, I believe Klaus is gonna get fucked next season an here is why

when he meets his father in the void, Reginald tells him he is his greatest dissapointment and that he wanted him to live to up to his full potential.

Later, in season 3, when Klaus is able to catch that ball, he says that “now he’s ready”. Ready for what? Klaus asks, and Reginald takes him to the cemetery where he admits he made Klaus so traumatized so he could control him.

He says with all letters that Klaus was the most important child to learn how to control his powers. (season 1)

And all through seasons, Klaus is the closest to his father. Every timeline.

But then we go back to season 3 when Reginald locks him outside the tunnel. Why? after fully comprehending his powers, Klaus didn’t have a chance to use them. Why would Reginald bother training him? why would he rush to do so? Why only him?

If locking him outside was by chance, he wouldn’t have said those lines. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth”. The greates potential is more trouble than he’s worth? bite me. Why would he run off with him to train as the word crumbled?? 

I’ve already said in another post, but I believe the tunnel couldn’t handle more than “the shaman and the seven”. And Klaus was the only one able to get inside of oblivion by himself. Maybe it was a bet, but maybe it wasn’t. After all, when they’re getting on top of the sigil, He again uses Klaus so Allison could be out of there. I believe she was supposed to kill him and save the others.

But then we go back to the cemetery, where Klaus was able to conquer those ghosts. Really nice that scene, but terrible useless, no? What he does with Luther, calling him to fight, he had already done with Ben in season 1. What does Reginald really wants from Klaus’s powers?

At this point, I believe Klaus really is the most powerful Umbrella, and probably the smartest one as well. Luther’s leadership? Klaus leads hords of ghosts. Diego’s long distance and furtivity? Klaus can get anywhere without raising suspicion, can shoot and again, can use the dead. Allison’s rumours? Klaus has +5 in charisma and is really good at manipulating people. Five’s agility? Klaus literally can’t die, who cares about bullets? Also, he understood ans was ok with time travel in his first time. Ben’s tentacles? Ben6 could only materialize at his will and Ben2 is a coward. Viktor’s sounds? pretty much they’ve been used for blowing things up? the thing with the kugelblitz was nice but it didn’t work. (I know I’m biased, I know)

We are always looking for number ones or sevens, but if you think four is exacly in the middle and the universe is a sucker for balance. How about someone who lives as much as he dies? Who looks for death while fearing it?

Who is so strong, but don’t fight? Who’s so irritating, but charismatic? Who’s manly and girly? Easily distracted, passionately focused, joyfully uninterested, profoundly curious? 

Klaus doesn’t pay much attention to everything, but what’s important at the moment, by chance, he takes seriously. Something he found before season 1 was vital for season 3′s development. He is Reginald’s perfect little mess of intuition. And intuition is a skill that he’s trained and took him places.

I can’t wait to see what in hell that alien has stored for him. Because I know he haven’t finished what he started. 

You can stop reading here if you don’t want to see me going crazy lol

(also, did you guys notice that Reginald’s notebook, when taking notes about Klaus’s deaths, had other times before the first time he killed Klaus in this timeline? 22 minutes, the time Klaus took to come back to life after the first time Reggie killed him, was not his first entry. We cannot read it, but there’s a previous note in the exact format he’s using right now.

 I’m so sure Reginald can travel through dimensions or something. Specially since I saw something about a elevator in the comics, both Klaus and Ben are seen together in elevators[ben on his feet while klaus is on the floor when we have dead ben and both on their feet when Klaus and Ben2 are alive] and when we see Luther coming back from the dead [void - another dimension] he comes from an elevator.)

(and as you guys already know that I love finishing my theory dump referencing another piece of media, this time I bring you Hair - The Musical. 

Klaus went back in time to the 60′s two times. In the first one, he went to the vietnam war(alone) and watched his lover die. The second one(whole family), that was before that, he became a hippie in a somewhat polyamorous life. In Hair, the play, Claud(Klaus) was part of a hippie comunity(Claud family) and ended up in vietnam(alone), where he died. Claud(Klaus) had this love triangle with Berger(Ben) and Sheila(Jill). By the end of the play, Claud dies and comes back as a spirit, but no one sees him(Ben/Dave). 

The most famous song of this musical is “The Age of Aquarious”, by the band the 5th dimension. It’s said that the fourth dimention is time, what we were exploring through last three seasons. The fifth dimension would be both a level of conciousness that happens after self realization (Klaus making peace with his trauma) and please remember that when Klaus re-introduces himself to Reginald he says he is the spiritual one; or the fifth dimension would be “ is that it is a dimension unseen by humans where the forces of gravity and electromagnetism unite to create a simple but graceful theory of the fundamental forces“ (definition taken in sciencing.com). Both seem fitting for me. 

The song starts with “When the moon is in the seventh house”. This all could be a coincidence, But I really don’t believe in those. or maybe I do... un coup de des...)

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

[hotxcheeto]

Could you do Vi x reader where the reader used to be a coward and ran away when they were trying to save Vander. Years later the reader sees Vi at the brothel and decides to help her find Jinx, but keeps their identity a secret out of shame and fear. The reader is a completely changed person now, and will not hesitate to sacrifice themselves for Vi, but they’re terrified that she’ll hate them if she finds out who they are. Maybe they get hurt helping Vi and she takes off their mask/hood/whatever they’re using to disguise themselves, and finds out it’s them?

━ 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Vi x G/N!Reader 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Angsty, Fluff at the end, Cursing, Slight fight scene, drunk asshole, mentions of blood, wound on reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - This is... questionable

You smoothed out the sparkly outfit you sported. The matching mask hiding the bottom half of your face. Routine uniform for the place of work you'd decided on. You hated it, but all the workers wore them. Though you were never sure why.

You were collecting empty glasses from a table, setting them on your tray before turning around. Bumping directly into someone.

"Sorry." You quickly, apologized, looking at the floor instead of them. "Yeah, no problem. Hey I'm looking fo-" "C'mon get me another drink!" You turned your head to the man at the table, quickly nodding before walking past the person. Never looking up at them.

"Glenn I need another for table six." "You got it." You set the used glasses into the container of already used dishes. Before setting the tray on the bar top waiting for Glenn. You then looked to your left, to the person who'd tried talking to you.

A familiar pink head of hair made you freeze. Surely it wasn't. This had happened before. You shut your eyes shaking your head. No, no, no, no, no.

No, it wasn't happening.

It wasn't her.

"Next time, try using some manners." You heard that slightly more mature, yet still cocky as ever, voice say. "Mind your own. Last time I checked you're not my mommy." Glenn handed you the drink, watching you quickly set it on the tray and turn around.

"Finally, thank you hotstuff." You cringed setting the cup down on the table before looking at her. The girl who you'd ran from. Her eyes bore into yours before you turned to walk away. Yet she grabbed your arm.

"I'm looking for someone." "I'm sorry, I can't help you." "Please. They're m-" The sudden sound of someone spitting something out made you turn around. "This is the wrong drink." "I'm sorry I-" "Maybe if you weren't talking to this bitch you would've gotten it right. Or maybe you're just stupid."

Vi stepped towards him with a scowl, making you back up. "Fuck off." "Excuse me." You looked back and forth between them before shaking your head. Grabbing Vi's arm. "I'll talk just c'mon." "No, no I think she can stay. Because I need a new drink and this bitch is gonna pay for it." Vi shook her head. "Fuck off." The guy then stood up, nearly the same height as Vi.

"I'd watch your mouth lady." "Or what?" "Sit down Don. I'll get you another." Your voice no longer wavered, instead your eyes were sharp as you stared at the man. "What are you gonna do?" He stepped towards you. Before you could do anything Vi pushed him back, the man hitting the table.

"What the fuck?" He went to go at Vi but you moved, without thinking, stepping in front of him. "Calm the fuck down, or you're out of here Don." You pointed to the door, staring at him in anger, fire in your eyes. "Back off, bitch." "Watch your fucking mouth." Vi stepped forward at the same time Don did.

"Back off. Or you're done." He was close to you, you could smell the liquor on his breath. His eyes moving down to yours. "Leave her alone." "What? What are you gonna do?" He stepped towards you, out of reaction, you moved. Hitting him as hard as possible where the sun didn't shine. And for him, he reacted as well.

Shoving you as hard as possible into another table. Your side catching one of the chairs. A large gash forming on your hip, blood dripping from the wound. Red soaking into your outfit.

You heard more commotion, looking up as Vi hit Don in the face. Sending him to the floor as security, or what everyone named as security, made themselves useful. You looked back down at your wound, hands hovering above it as you hissed.

"Are you okay?" Your mask had fallen from your face, your eyes scanning over the red before you looked up nodding. "Yeah. Fuck." "Y/n?" You stared at her with shame in your eyes before shaking your head. "You need to go, Vi." "You knew who I was." She said both sad stunned.

"Of course I knew who you were." You stood up, not allowing her to help you up, looking at your side. "I can deal with this, but you need to go." "I need to find Powder." She stepped closer to you, watching you flinch before shaking your head. "She's not Powder anymore. You haven't been here long have you?" Vi stared at you confused before shaking her head.

"C'mon." You grabbed her hand and lead her towards the bathrooms. "Last I heard she was with Silco. He took care of her. Sometimes I'd see her, she'd see me. She's changed. Good and bad. Just like everyone else." You lifted the part of your outfit and turned on the sink, sticking your fingers under the cold water.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you?" You froze, staring down at the sink while Vi stared at you in the mirror. "Because... I thought you'd hate me. After what I did... back then. I fucked up bigtime. I didn't think you needed to see me." You splashed water onto the wound, hissing, clenching your teeth together.

"You were scared." "Of everything. I was scared of everything. I was a coward." You laughed, rubbing some of the blood off your skin around the cut. "You can find Powder closer to Silco's main base. It's towards the deeper part of the Undercity. Where me and you used to play that stupid hide and seek game." You shook your head.

"I don't think it was stupid." Finally you dragged your eyes up from the cut, looking at through the mirror. Slight tears had welled up in her eyes as she stared at you. An unreadable expression on her face. The only thing you could make out was sadness.

"Vi..." "I came looking for you." You looked back down and turned the sink off. Putting the clothing back down. "I told you where you can find her. She's not the same anymore, don't treat her like she is." You gave your last words before turning around, moving to walk past her when she grabbed your arm again.

"Don't walk away from me again." You froze up, closing your eyes, swallowing. "Y/n/n, I never fucking blamed you." You opened your eyes, looking at her, holding her tears back. "It doesn't matter. Because I'll always blame myself." She pulled you towards her holding you in a hug you couldn't bring yourself to push away from.

Your arms hung at your sides. And for a moment, her heart felt like it stopped beating. Listening to you begin to quietly sob. And finally, your arms slowly raised to wrap around her waist. Shoving your face into her shirt, holding her tightly.

"I'm sorry." "Don't be. Alright?" She held onto you as if you were going to disappear, but not squeezing you. Not enough to make you back away. "Vi?" "Hm?" "Why'd you come find me first?" She laughed quietly. "Cause..." She turned a slight shade of pink, you moving your head to look at her with teary eyes.

"It's okay. I missed you too." She looked away with a smile. "I needed my partner in crime." "That hides the whole time?" Vi shrugged. "Brains and brawn." You laughed slightly, rubbing your eyes, looking at the tattoos that were slightly visible between the bandages on her arms and her sleeves.

"C'mon. I want you to meet someone." "Okay. But you need to tell me how you're still around. After disappearing." She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pushed the bathroom door open. "Fine. And while I do, I can take care of that." She gestured to your hip. "Okay. What about my job?" "You can get a new one. One that doesn't have a Don around." You giggled.

"You know, I would not have expected you to do that." "Do what?" "Stand up to him like that." You shrugged. "Maybe I'm more than just brains." She smiled looking down at you. "But your just brawn." You added listening to her scoff, a grin making it's way on her face. "I see how it is."

You'd changed. Good and bad.

She was just glad she had you back.

A/n: Half time show was... okay... also y'all see Kanye West rn?

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Twin!AU Part 3:

Hunith and Uther alike have to face the consequences of their actions, Merlin (and everyone, really) decides that family doesn’t end in blood.

Part 1   Part 2

TW: Suicidal ideation (mostly past, but it sort of... flairs up a little here I guess)

Hunith’s face falls and she physically recoils at Merlin’s harsh declaration.

His hard gaze doesn’t leave her, even as she glances at Arthur, a little behind Merlin and to his side. The blonde has his gaze fixed on Hunith, but he looks away the moment they make eye contact, unable to stand the confused pain in her expression:

“Merlin? What happened?”

Lancelot and Percival approach slowly after handing the horses off to a couple of stablehands, and Gwaine puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not that The Warlock notices; he clenches his jaw tightly before speaking, but continues resisting the urge to look away:

“You lied to me. About everything.”

Hunith’s eyes go wide and she gulps, opening her mouth and shutting it again as she struggles to think of a response. It’s then that Merlin finally looks away, gazing over the top of her head at the empty courtyard. Arthur quietly intervenes, his authoritative voice full of warring emotions despite it’s low volume:

“We should take this somewhere more private.”

Merlin doesn’t even nod, just turns around and walks back towards the castle, hands clenched tightly at his side before he pushes the doors open and stalks in without looking back. Gwaine and Arthur share a concerned look before the older knight rushes after him. Arthur gestures for Hunith to go first, but not without stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, and a muttered, almost teary:

“You had no right.”

Her face falls even further, but The Regent steps back and looks away before she can reply, and she timidly hurries through the door after Merlin and Gwaine. Arthur gives Lancelot and Percival a pointed look:

“I imagine we’ll be in my chambers, make sure we are undisturbed. I don’t want anyone interrupting unless the world is about to end. Let Leon and Morgana know that they can take charge of any meetings today.”

They both nod, but Lancelot jogs up the steps to stop Arthur before he can leave:

“I... know what she did was wrong, but don’t let Merlin be too harsh. He’s always been close to his mother, he’ll regret it later if he pushes her away completely.”

Arthur almost snaps out something about how Hunith isn’t Merlin’s mother, but he keeps it to himself, sighing and nodding:

“Yeah, I know, but she... she needs to know what this has done to him, how much he’s suffered needlessly because of this. There isn’t... I know she probably just did what she thought was right but... she needs to know. Merlin deserves an apology, and he certainly deserves the truth.”

Lancelot nods hesitatingly, but doesn’t say anything else, stepping aside to allow The Regent through. He catches up to the others just as Merlin slams the door open to his chambers, continuing to not look back as he heads over to the large dining table, leaning his hand against the back of one of the chairs and staring towards the window.

Gwaine and Arthur approach slowly, standing either side of him but not touching him as they wait in suspense for someone to start the conversation. Hunith already has tears in her eyes as she stands on the other side of the table, trying and failing to get Merlin to look at her. The harsh glare he laid on her before was horrific, but this... him being unable to look at her at all, that is worse:

“Merlin, please, I only did what-”

She’s cut off by Merlin’s harsh instruction:

“Sit.”

She glances to Arthur once more, but he just nods wordlessly at the chair in front of her; the only sounds in the room are the scraping of the chair on the stone floor and Merlin’s laboured breathing. He was evidently trying very hard to hold his anger in, and when he says nothing more once she’s sat down, Gwaine puts his hand back on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, finally turning to face Hunith but remaining unable to look in her eyes:

“Why?”

A tears slips loose from her eye and she sniffles, taking a deep, shaky breath and fiddling with her hands on the table. Arthur absent-mindedly wonders if Merlin would still do that too if he’d been raised with his actual family, if it was natural, or if he’d picked it up from her:

“Please, Merlin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

Merlin takes in a sharp breath, tightening his gip on the chair in a way that looks painful, shaking his head:

“No. No apologies, no excuses. I want to know exactly why you lied to me, why you took this from me.”

His voice is deadly in a quiet kind of way, like he could snap clean in two and set the world alight at any moment. Gwaine looks worriedly between the other two men, clearly thinking on the same lines as Lancelot, but neither of them notice, Merlin’s gaze stuck to the table and Arthur’s stuck on Hunith:

“I would have told you one day, Merlin, you-”

Merlin finally looks up at her, the blazing fury in his eyes contrasting in a rather horrific manner with the steady stream of tears on his cheeks:

“One day when? Arthur’s known about my magic for ages. I’ve been in Camelot for years, you have had every opportunity.”

Hunith lets out a low sob, but doesn’t look away:

“I didn’t think you were ready, Mer-”

Merlin bites his lip and turns away, running his hands through his hair harshly before turning around again, quick as lightening, and pointing an accusing finger at her:

“No, you weren’t ready! You weren’t ready to face the fact that you lied to me about who I am, because you knew you had no right, because you knew I would be angry!”

Hunith stands, but doesn’t make any moves to approach Merlin at Arthur’s harsh glare and Gwaine’s worried gesture. He doesn’t think Merlin or Arthur would hurt her, he’d never even consider the idea, but he knows that his partner needs space to be angry:

“I didn’t want you to be upset,-”

Merlin scoffs and lets out a sob of his own, wiping his face harshly before responding loudly:

“Gods, I wonder why I would be upset! Maybe because you lied to me about everything?!-”

Hunith shakes her head desperately, but Merlin carries on without pause:

“-You had no right to keep this from me! I grew up alone, with no one but you to rely on because you made me think I was some kind of beast! Keeping me from Camelot, I understand, keeping it from me as I child even, I understand. But you’ve had years of opportunity, you are selfish, a hypocrite and a coward.-”

Hunith looks horrified at his admission, mainly the sudden reveal at how her treatment of Merlin had effected him independently of the lie:

“-I hated myself, I was terrified, I didn’t want to exist, because of you! You made me think I was some kind of unnatural monster and then you sent me to Gaius under the guise of teaching me control, so he could carry on the lie for you! He promised me I wasn’t a monster, that I wasn’t born evil, over and over, but he’s lied to me from the moment I met him, how am I supposed to trust anything he says?! How am I supposed to trust anything you say when I was just some unwanted, throwaway thing that you never asked for, and got rid of at the earliest opportunity?!-”

Gwaine and Arthur stare at Merlin with matching heartbreak in their expressions; it seems that Merlin is upset at more than just the base lie. The New Prince doesn’t even try to stop the tears, his breathing quick and ragged, and after a few moments of thick silence, he takes a deep breath and quietly continues:

“-I didn’t have to be so alone, that was all you, and Gaius, and Kilgharrah, and everyone else who lied to me. When I had nothing, I had you, and you lied to me.-”

Merlin’s voice cracks, his breathing shaky and his face pale as his entire world seemingly crumbles down around him:

“-You took my brother from me and you had no right. You’re not my mother, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

With those last words, he storms from the room, Gwaine hot on his heels. Arthur stays however, feeling the need to comfort the crying woman, but also feeling, maybe slightly cruelly, that she deserves this. He sighs, pushing the though from his mind and moving around to put a hand on her shoulder as she buries her face in her hands, sobbing:

“I... you did your best, I think he knows that, but that doesn’t change what you took from him, from both of us. He needs time.”

She just about manages a nod, and Arthur sighs again, standing awkwardly for a few minutes before he realises she isn’t going to stop any time soon. He gently pushes her to sit back in the chair before heading to the door, following Gwaine and Merlin.

They’re not in the corridor when he shuts the door behind him, but he’s not surprised at that. Merlin has always been private about his true emotions, always kept them close to his chest, he wouldn’t want anyone to see him having a breakdown in the middle of the hall. Months ago, Arthur would have thought it was left over fear of his magic being discovered, but now he bitterly thinks that it probably has more to do with the way he was raised.

He runs a hand through his hair, sparing a glance to the—previously unnoticed—worried looking guards. Thankfully, they were two of the men that had been trusted with the truth (Arthur reminds himself to thank Leon later for paying attention to who was stationed where), so Arthur isn’t too worried at the fact that they had likely overheard the one-sided yelling match. He fixes them with a commanding stare and clears his throat:

“Escort the Lady Hunith to the physician’s chambers when she emerges, leave her with Gaius, but don’t rush her.-”

They bow briefly in acknowledgement of his orders, and his question comes out quietly:

“-Do you know where they went?”

They needn’t ask who, and one of the guards answers lowly, matching Arthur’s volume:

“I think they headed to Sir Gwaine’s chambers, Sire.” 

He nods and mutters a quiet thank you, slowly heading in that direction, knowing he had to go see them but also wanting to give them few extra minutes of privacy. They still had a lot to take care of, they’d missed several council meetings over the last few days, and whilst Arthur trusts Leon and Morgana to keep things rolling, he really should be making regular appearances. That, and they still haven’t dealt with Uther; to be perfectly honest, Arthur is surprised that rumours haven’t started spreading about The King’s disappearance and Arthur’s sudden growth of responsibilities, but he’s grateful. Don’t look a gift Griffin in the mouth or... something.

He finally stops outside the knight’s room—nodding at Lance who wordlessly stands guard in the corridor—before flinching at the quiet crying he can hear from inside. He knocks a few times softly before entering, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed. Gwaine sits leant against the headboard, tears in his eyes as he holds a shaking Merlin in his arms. The Warlock lays besides Gwaine, in the middle of the bed, his face buried in the knight’s chest and his hands twisted into the fabric of his tunic.

Arthur lets out a deep, mournful breath at the sight of his brother so distraught, and he moves around to the other side of the bed, raising his eyebrow in question at Gwaine and settling next to Merlin at his singular nod. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice his presence, not until Arthur settles a hand on his back and whispers his name. He instantly calms a little, and Gwaine mentally scolds himself for the slight flair of jealousy; Merlin had discovered he has a brother, that his best friend is his brother, it’s no surprise that he calms easier in his presence, especially considering the reveal unburied so much hidden trauma.

After a few more minutes, Merlin turns to be laying on his back, though he makes sure to stay in Gwaine’s embrace. The knight leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, and though he can’t see it, he can almost feel the slight smile on The Warlock’s face. Arthur moves his hand back to his lap, looking at the two of them out of the corner of his eye; he sees nothing but worry and utter adoration on Gwaine’s face, and he wonders just how he hadn’t approved of their relationship. Gwaine’s whispered words just solidify Arthur’s newfound belief in the man:

“I love you, Merls, no matter what.”

Merlin lets out a quiet, choked laugh, and Gwaine considers that a win, even more so when Merlin responds in kind:

“I love you.”

Despite their relationship not being a particularly new thing, Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d reached that far, that their partnership was that solid; perhaps that had something to do with their general lack of PDA, which he had always wondered how Gwaine had put up with. He grimaces with a quiet realisation, but it catches Merlin’s gaze and he raises a questioning eyebrow, his tears thankfully dried. Arthur glances up at Gwaine, who smirks at him knowingly, before looking back down to his brother:

“Making you Crown Prince is something I’m actually quite looking forward to, but I’m going to have to crown Gwaine as well.”

Gwaine snorts in amusement but Merlin turns pink and coughs slightly:

“Well.. we haven’t really discussed marriage, Arthur.”

Arthur looks to him with an apologetic expression:

“Merlin, royals have different courting rules. Royal partnerships tend to be incredibly short before a marriage has to happen. Back when me and Gwen were courting, we hid not only because Uther wouldn’t have approved, but also because we didn’t want to rush things. I’m especially glad we did now, otherwise we would have had to be married by now. The whole kingdom know that you two have been together for at least a year, the moment you’re crowned...”

His voice trails off as he comes to a second, horrifying realisation. He stands from the bed and stares at Gwaine with wide eyes and a pale face:

“Oh my God. Oh my God. If neither me, you, or Morgana have children... once you two have been married... Gwaine will officially be third in line for the throne. Oh... fuck.”

Merlin and Gwaine freeze for just a moment before they burst into loud laughter, and Arthur shakes his head, pacing slightly and not paying attention to the knocking at the door. Lancelot walks in slowly, an amused smile of his face despite his confusion:

“Do I even want to ask?”

Arthur fixes him with an almost distraught gaze before glaring half-heartedly at Merlin:

“Why? Why couldn’t it have been Leon, or Lancelot?? Elyan or Percival?? Hell, I would have been happier with fucking George.”

Gwaine’s laughter gets even louder but Merlin calmly wipes the tears (of laughter, thankfully) from his face and looks to Lancelot with bitten lips and held in hysterics:

“Arthur just realised that once all the crowning ceremonies happen, Gwaine will be third in line for the throne, if I’m the last one to die and there aren’t any children.”

Lance’s eyes go wide and he clamps a hand over his moth in a poor attempt to hold in his laughter. He fails miserably, bursting just like Gwaine and Merlin had moments earlier. Arthur fixes an annoyed glare on him and waves a desperate hand:

“This is not funny.”

Gwaine just shakes his head as he finally manages to calm himself, wiping his face clean and sitting up straight, one hand still on Merlin’s shoulder:

“It’s hilarious, Princess. God imagine Geoffrey’s face. Imagine the council.”

Arthur just takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling again:

“Fuck. Ok, alright, whatever. That is a problem for another time.-”

He looks back down to Merlin with an apologetic smile, after shooting one last withering glare at a still-smirking Gwaine:

“-You feeling up to council? I’ve missed a fair few, and I think it might be a good idea for you two to start making appearances as well. That and... as much as we’ve told them you have magic, it might be worth showing it off a little.-”

At Merlin’s wide, fearful eyes, Arthur holds his hands out placatingly and hurries to continue:

“-You don’t have to, but they're working on the ban repeal. Obviously not anything huge, but passing jugs or paper or whatever with magic might help desensitise them to the idea. Plus, now that you’re semi-officially royalty, and you have Gwaine or Leon trailing you almost everywhere, no one would dare attack you. And if they do, you have every right to defend yourself in whatever capacity you deem necessary.”

At Merlin’s still nervous face, Lancelot quickly tacks on:

“And they all know that Arthur would go ape-shit if anything were to happen to you.”

Arthur gestures at the knight and nods in agreement, nodding further at Gwaine’s quiet “He’s not the only one.” . Merlin takes a deep breath and shuffles off the bed, standing and straightening his clothes out with unsteady hands:

“Let’s go. You’re right, I’m going to have to get used to stupid council meetings at some point if you’re insisting on crowning me, might as well be now.”

Arthur and Lancelot smile proudly and Gwaine moves to stand at his side, straightening his own clothes before running his hands through Merlin’s hair, flattening and neatening it. Merlin stands still and lets himself be assessed and fixed with a soft smile on his face, and Arthur feels almost as if he were intruding on something personal and domestic, even more so than when they were professing their love for each other; he looks away awkwardly and Lancelot raises an amused eyebrow at him.

The four of them finally exit the room, Arthur and Merlin falling into step besides each other, Gwaine slightly behind them, and Lancelot trailing the three of them with his face pulled into a blank mask and his hand on his sword.

This time, there is no hesitation before they enter the council room, and no raised eyebrows when Merlin takes his rightful place alongside Arthur at the head of the table. Flanked by Morgana, Leon, Lancelot, and Gwaine, Arthur effortlessly takes control of the meeting, hurrying things along with a proud confidence and an easy authority that was slowly but surely being taken on by his brother, at his side.

~

The council session lasts for the remainder of the day, and though at least half of the councilmen yelp, Gaius obviously not included, when Merlin first starts floating things about or magically highlighting words or moving the room’s lighting around with a flick of his wrist, most of them are used to it by the time the sun touches the horizon.

Arthur finally calls an end to the meeting when it gets dark. Though he was in a slightly manic mood and desperate to get as much work done as possible now that he was actually free to attend meetings, he could see that the others, Merlin especially, were flagging. He knew it would happen eventually, he can’t imagine The Warlock has been sleeping much, and he definitely came to some sort of private, horrifying conclusion around half a candle-mark ago. The hitch in Merlin’s breath, the widening of his eyes, and the slight, tiny flair of every candle in the room thankfully went unnoticed by everyone bar Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot.

When the room empties of councilmen, Merlin stands and paces away from the table, hands fiddling roughly with his sleeves. Arthur waves Morgana and Leon away, thanking them briefly before nodding pointedly at the door. Lancelot follows shortly, and Arthur has half a mind to send Gwaine away as well, but he knows that would be somewhat selfish as the other man approaches his partner’s turned back:

“Merlin? Something wrong? I thought that went remarkably well.”

Merlin’s head turns quickly, his furrowed brows confused:

“What? What went well?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, glancing briefly at the neatly stacked paperwork on the table:

“The meeting? About planning your coronation and the legalisation of magic? That we’ve been in all afternoon?”

Merlin untenses slightly, turning around properly and using one hand to rub at his eyes tiredly:

“Oh, yeah right. It did go well. They didn’t freak out too much at my evil sorcery, did they?”

He tries to go for a joking smirk, but it falls flat, and Arthur walks towards him to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin sags even more and Arthur quickly steps forward, gathering the suddenly distraught man in a tight hug. Merlin easily accepts, burying his face in Arthur’s neck and clutching the back of his tunic with shaking hands:

“I compared my mother to Uther. I told her it was her fault that I didn’t want to be alive. She’s never going to forgive me.”

Arthur shuts his eyes, stroking a hand through Merlin’s hair and muttering a quiet:

“Oh, Merlin, she loves you more than anything in this world, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Merlin doesn’t look up, but shakes his head roughly; before he can argue, Gwaine steps around the two of them, pressing a kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck before stepping back and stroking a soft hand over his back:

“What she did was wrong, Merls, you’re allowed to be angry. And now you’re not so angry anymore you can go sit down with her and talk it out, ok? There was no way that first conversation was going to be anything other than difficult and heartbreaking, but you got through it, and now you can sort it out properly.”

Merlin relaxes just a touch, and Arthur gets the disturbing feeling swelling in his gut that Gwaine knew of Merlin’s (hopefully, former) despairs before the whole... twin thing. When The Warlock finally pulls away, he thankfully looks a little more confident, despite the drying tears on his cheeks; Arthur gives him a soft smile and nods towards the door:

“Tonight, or tomorrow?”

Merlin takes a deep, fortifying breath, and walks towards the door purposefully, wiping his face clean before taking Gwaine’s offered hand in his own:

“Tonight, now. I should... I need to talk to Gaius as well. I’ve been unfairly punishing him for long enough, I think.”

Gwaine smiles understandingly, though Arthur, who rushes to catch up and walk on Merlin’s other side, shakes his head with a frown:

“Not unfairly, Merlin. It would be well within your rights to cut them out of your life for the foreseeable future for this. But I also understand wanting to forgive them so you have more... support. They may not be blood, Merlin, but... they are family, and that’s ok.”

Gwaine gives him an annoyed look at his first words, over Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. Merlin stops in the middle of the hallway, suddenly and without warning, and Gwaine grunts slightly when his arm is pulled back. The Warlock spares him an apologetic smile before turning his gaze to Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but Merlin tilts his head and frowns:

“Arthur you do know that... I consider you family above all others, right? you’re right, family doesn’t have to be blood,-”

He squeezes Gwaine’s hand, almost subconsciously, and receives a gentle squeeze back:

“-but after what we’ve found out, after all of this, all that we’re doing to... fix it, to fix what was done to us... you’re everything, you’re my brother. Me forgiving Hu... my mother, and Gaius, doesn’t change that I trust you above them, I consider you before them. They’re family, but you’re family first.”

Arthur’s eyes widen slightly at Merlin’s stern assertion, but he wills the tears in his eyes to disappear as he nods once, his jaw clenched with emotion. Merlin smirks slightly and rolls his eyes, muttering something about an “emotionally repressed idiot” before pulling him into an eagerly returned hug. Gwaine just snorts at both of them, happily leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waits. They pull away fairly quickly, hyper aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the corridor, and whilst basically the whole citadel had picked up on the fact that something had changed, is changing, they didn’t want to let on too much until official public announcements were made.

They hurry in their journey to the Physician’s chambers, it was getting late and they wanted to sort this out as soon as possible; Gods know Merlin isn’t going to sleep a wink until he's spoken to his mother again.

They pause momentarily outside the door, taking deep breaths as they attempt to block out the hushed conversations coming from inside, not wanting to eavesdrop. Merlin turns to Gwaine with a nervous frown:

“Would you mind... waiting out here? Just for a minute?”

Gwaine gives him a soft smile and nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering “Call for me when you want me to come in, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” before giving Arthur an encouraging clap on the shoulder and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.

Arthur sends a grateful smile the knight’s way, receiving a respectful nod in return, before he turns to the door. After a nod from Merlin, he raises a hand that shakes only slightly, and knocks. The murmured conversations stop immediately, and Gaius’ voice calls out:

“Enter.”

With one last look to each other, the brothers open the door and walk in together, shutting it gently behind them and turning to face the shocked pair. Hunith stares at Merlin with tears in her hopeful eyes, but Gaius quickly clears his throat and stands straight:

“How can I help, My Lords?”

Arthur sighs and Merlin shakes his head at the Physician’s formal address of them, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes before taking a small step forward :

“Don’t... I’m not... just Merlin, please.-”

His voice is quiet and tired, and the pleading tone it takes on deepens Arthur’s frown. He lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip before looking up to Hunith and continuing:

“-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. And I didn’t have any right to say those things; you’re... you’re nothing like Uther, and you did your best in a terrifying situation. You didn’t know any better, I shouldn’t blame you for how I turned out.”

Hunith’s tears overflow once again, and she takes in a shuddering breath as she steps hesitatingly towards the Warlock:

“Oh, my boy, you were right. I wasn’t ready to lose you, and I let that fear overcloud my judgement of what I knew to be right. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I should have told you who you were a long time ago, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect Gaius to carry on the lie, especially when you met Arthur, and especially when he found out about your magic.”

With that, Merlin pulls her into a tight hug, height difference be damned as he buries his face in her neck and shakes. Arthur gulps as he looks upon the scene, sharing a small, mournful smile with Gaius, the Physician understanding The Regent’s forgiveness in the small nod of his head. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as Arthur was expecting, though he supposes that forgiveness is more than just saying it aloud, and Merlin still has a great deal of self-worth related issues to get over, thanks to Hunith’s overly cautious raising of the boy. The Warlock clears his throat, his hands still on his mother’s shoulders as he gives her a weak smile:

“Igraine says thank you, by the way, for raising me with so much love.”

Hunith lets out a small chuckle, wiping away Merlin’s tears with soft hands:

“It was my honour,  I’m glad that your... mother, is pleased.”

Merlin’s frown is brief, and he responds quickly:

“You’re my mother.”

Hunith’s smile grows, as does Merlin’s and she nods shakily, almost whispering:

“Ok... I... ok.”

Merlin lets go hesitatingly, but turns to Gaius after a moment or two. The Physician quickly interrupts anything the younger man could have said with a shake of his head and a soft smile, pulling him into a hug as he softly speaks:

“It’s alright, my boy. You were well within your rights to be angry, we had no right to lie to you in such a way.”

With Gaius and Merlin’s soft conversation happening to the side of the room, Hunith turns to Arthur with a hopeful smile on her face. He returns it faintly, and she pulls him into his own hug. He stiffens in her hold, wide eyes darting around the room as he clenches his hands at his side. It only takes her stroking a hand through his knotted hair for him to relax and hug her back:

“I’m honoured to have been able to raise your brother, Arthur, and I am sorry for keeping him from you for so long, it was selfish of me. I didn’t consider what you were losing, in not knowing that you weren’t alone, only what I would lose should I tell the truth.”

Arthur gulps and nods, but tightens his hold on her as the tears come to his eyes:

“It’s... ok. I understand, I think. The danger you put yourself in to raise and protect him was immense, I just wished I’d known sooner, so I could have done all of this sooner.”

They pull back, but Hunith keeps a tight hold on Arthur’s shoulders, an assessing frown on her face as she raises a hand to cup his cheek. Arthur leans into it, blushing slightly under her motherly gaze:

“I know. But you’re doing wonderfully, Arthur. You and Merlin will be the saviours of this Kingdom, I’m sure of it. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

A tear slips loose from Arthur’s eye as he harshly bites his lip. His voice comes out small and unsure, and Hunith has to resist the urge to pull him into another hug:

“You think?”

She just smiles and nods instead:

“I’m sure.”

Merlin and Gaius look upon the scene fondly, and Arthur’s blush deepens when he catches them staring. He steps back from Hunith who smirks at him knowingly as he frowns at Merlin:

“Shut up, Merlin.”

He just laughs and shakes his head:

“I always knew you had a soft spot for my mum.”

The Regent shakes his head and rolls his eyes, ignoring Merlin’s continued laughter:

“Either of you eaten? I’m starved.”

Gaius and Hunith’s smiles come a lot easier at that, and they shake their heads. Arthur leads the way out of the chambers, smiling and nodding at Gwaine’s raised eyebrow. The knight returns the smile, quickly sidling up to Merlin and re-taking his hand as Arthur speaks:

“I’ll let the kitchens know to have five meals sent up to my chambers, I’ll see you there in a moment.”

They part ways in the corridor, all of them with easy smiles and lighter hearts, especially when Gwaine eagerly regales his interpretation of Arthur’s reaction to having to crown him.

~

The next morning was once again tense. Arthur’s assertion late last night that he intended to finally deal with Uther weighs heavy in everyone’s minds.

Hunith and Gaius are once again tucked safely into the Physician’s chambers, and all of the King’s most trusted knights are called to stand guard in the corridor. Merlin and Arthur wear their smart clothes (a suggestion by Morgana that Gwaine thought was funny enough that he begged and begged until Merlin gave in), and they take in with them Leon and Morgana. 

Uther looks manic, his hair unkept, his face unshaven. His clothes are clean at least, but they’re rumpled, likely due to the near constant pacing of the former King. The room is dark, the curtains obviously haven’t been opened in several days, but the dim candles highlight the mess throughout the room. Uther may still be being passed meals by the guards, but out of concern for the staff’s safety, no servants were granted access to tidy or otherwise serve. 

His head whips around when the door opens, his enraged face turning red at the four people stood smartly by his door. He storms towards them, but Morgana, no longer scared of the consequences, holds a hand out and mutters a few golden words, halting him in his tracks. He apparently hasn’t lost his voice though, as he turns to Merlin:

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?! YOU-”

Merlin rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers, his eyes also turning golden as Uther’s mouth shuts with a clack. Leon manages to hold his smirk in, just stands still as the perfect guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Morgana doesn’t even try, smiling openly. Merlin holds Uther’s furious gaze for a few more moments before looking to Arthur at his side, tilting his head in question. The Regent nods at him before stepping forward, his back straight and his face and voice Kingly:

“You will listen, and you will listen well, because I will not repeat myself. You are the only abomination in this room, and you will live with that for the rest of your days. How long that is, is up to you. I am Regent, soon enough I will be King, Myrddin will be Crown Prince, and Morgana will be Princess; when that happens, magic will finally be fully legalised, and the public will be made aware of your crimes. I will not hide things from my people, not like you have. No matter what you deserve, I struggle to bring myself to sentence you to execution, and you’ll be humiliated to learn, I imagine, that Merlin argued in favour of letting you keep your head when I brought it up.-”

Uther glances angrily at Merlin, but looks back to Arthur when he realises that he’s still incapable of speaking:

“-Therefor your options are as follows: You may go to the summer home on the coast, where you will be under constant guard, but will otherwise have a semi-free life. You will stay in Camelot, but live out the remainder of your days in this room only. Or me and Merlin will take a week long trip away to, say, Nemeth, whilst Princess Morgana and Sir Leon announce, organise, and undergo your execution. You have today to decide, we’ll be back this evening.”

Arthur doesn’t bother waiting for a reaction, turning his back on Uther and gesturing the others to lead the way through the door. He pauses momentarily, one hand on the door frame as he turns back, a mournful frown on his face as he quietly speaks:

“If you had just told the truth, if you had just owned up to making a mistake, you, me, Myrddin, Morgana, we... we could have been a family. You’re the one that ruined that, you’re the one that tore us apart, and I swear to you now, that whatever option you pick, I will never forgive you.”

That only seems to enrage Uther more, but Arthur isn’t quite sure why he bothered to hope for another reaction. He shuts the door behind him, waving at Merlin to reset the magical locks as he sighs and rubs tired hands over his face:

“Well at least that’s over and done with.”

Leon pats him on the shoulder consolingly, and Elyan raises an eyebrow, glancing around at the others and sighing when he realises no one else is going to ask:

“He didn’t take it well then, I’m guessing?”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stands straight, shaking his head. Morgana is the one to answer however, and Arthur appreciates the way she makes a genuine attempt to keep the humour out of her voice:

“No, he wasn’t best pleased, but I think he’s accepted that he has well and truly lost this battle. Something he’s not entirely used to, I suppose.”

The knights nod in understanding, and Merlin lets out a deep breath, tilting his head slightly:

“Weird to think that he’s my... dad... ugh.”

They all chuckle at that, even Arthur, though they all stop with concerned frowns when Merlin suddenly straightens up with wide eyes and an open mouth:

“Oh... my God... how did I...- What?!”

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, his frown deepening:

“Merls?”

The Warlock just ignores him, turning to Morgana with still wide eyes:

“You’re my sister! I’ve been focusing so much on how Arthur’s my brother that I didn’t even consider the fact that you’re my sister!”

Morgana takes in a sudden breath, and all bar Leon (who just raises an eyebrow and then rolls his eyes when he realises that he’s the only one unsurprised by this) stare at the two of them in shock. Morgana slowly pulls Merlin into a hug, and the two of them clutch each other tightly as a grin grows on Arthur’s face. Leon gives him another clap on the back, this one more congratulatory (if a little confused. Honestly, how did they miss that?), and the others cheer just as Gwen turns the corner into the corridor. She smiles confusedly at Merlin and Morgana, still hugging, as she sidles up to Leon, whispering:

“What’s the occasion? They find Uther dead?”

Leon laughs but shakes his head, leaning down to mutter his response:

“They only just now figured out that they’re siblings.”

She looks up to him quickly with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrows:

“Wait, just now as in, just now?-”

Leon smirks and nods firmly, and Gwen shakes her head as she laughs:

“-It’s been almost a week.”

Leon laughs as well leaning against the wall as the others chatter excitedly among themselves:

“Yeah, apparently you and I are the only ones who had considered the idea. These are all the smartest people I’ve ever come across...”

He trails off, but Gwen looks up at him with a teasing smirk:

“And yet sometimes...?”

They both laugh quietly, shaking their heads when Percival catches their eyes and tilts his head in question.

The group walks away soon enough, heading to one of the smaller dining rooms for an early lunch and a chance to discuss their intentions for this afternoon’s council meeting. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur walk together, and conversation flows between all bar Gwaine, who stares at the back of his now betrothed’s head with the quiet adoration and lowly simmering excitement of someone that knew the man he loves is finally getting all that he deserves.

~

END of Part 3!!!

Part 4 will be VERY short. Will be just about post coronation and public announcement, will probably contain Merwaine’s wedding, some casual magic, some more family bonding.

I hope y’all enjoyed this!!! I wrote it surprisingly quickly once I set my mind to it

[workofheart]

36+40 with Levi 👁

I love ur writing btw that bodyguard one was WOOOOOOO

this is honestly a fav thank u so much for the request, went kind of ham bc i love this idea. sorry if it hurts ur heart <3

one more | levi + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it” + “if you’re going to act like a brat then i’m going to treat you like a brat”

warnings: angst/implied nsfw, aggressive levi, “hate to love you” kind of fucking, 18+ minors dni

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i have feelings for you. and i think you have them for me, too.”

levi is not a man of many words - that much is obvious. he keeps it short and to the point, not one for meaningless chatter or even thinking out loud, preferring to save his input for when it matters most. 

rare is such a thing due to him being rendered speechless by another person, not able to speak even if he wanted. he’s never been struck so voiceless in his life, dumbfounded and heart sinking at your admission.

his silence is deafening. coming here so late at night, you thought you had all the aces in your palm. you were so sure, but his lack of reciprocation to what you were just so confident tells you all you need to know.

he can’t stand to look you in the eyes, averting them to the papers strewn across his desk. “...it’s not that simple,” is all he can manage.

feeling embarrassed, you swallow thickly. “then what is it?”

“we’re comrades,” he offers, but damage control doesn’t look good on him. you wonder why he’s even trying. “i’d even call you my friend.”

you let out a wounded laugh at that, crossing your arms over your chest.. “come on, levi, are you kidding?”

there you go again, as if you can hear the thoughts racing through his mind before he can think them himself. of course he feels it, probably more than you, if he’s completely honest. but he can’t do it to himself again. he’s not sure if he can love someone like he wants to love you and come out alive on the other end.

“listen-”

“we’re not just friends and you fucking know it” you mutter, turning away from him. you can’t even look him in the eyes, from the humility, from the chance that maybe you’ve been wrong this whole time, from the chance you’re truly just in denial. have you just been misreading it all these years?

patience thinning, he stands from his chair to look at you properly, on your level now. “okay, and so what? you know how things are. you know how this life gets.” his lips are pursed, unwavering, sour.

a bitter expression takes root on your face. he hates it. 

“i’d rather love and lose than be a coward and never love at all.”

levi’s eyes narrow, a harrowing clench to his jaw ensues. it’s a shock to hear it coming from you. in fact, he’s astonished. he’s never seen your seething denunciations first hand, though he’s heard so much in passing, and such abrasiveness from you feels like a brutal strike to the jaw. your acrid words sting his pride, spear through his facade like you knew it would. 

he could tolerate attitude: he couldn’t tolerate being called a coward.

his voice drops. “don’t talk to me like that.”

“someone has to say it. the stoic act isn’t doing anything for you.”

he scoffs, incredulous. “you’re acting like a child.”

“you’re the one denying your feelings because you’re scared of getting hurt,” you argue, volume rising, “that’s childish if i’ve ever seen it.” you voice bounces off the walls of the room, and you can’t even be bothered to care about people hearing you when you’re so beat down.

you don’t even see it coming. with a swift movement, levi is storming toward you, has his hands wrapping around your upper arms, pushing you back against the door you stand in front of. you barely get the chance to look into his eyes before he has his lips on yours, firm and rough and unrelenting and...

and so, so inviting. once the initial shock fades, you can’t help but kiss him back, trying to match his pace, trying to find something to do with your hands when they’re still pinned back. but as soon as he feels you reciprocate, he’s pulling away.

eyes widening, you shake your head at him. “what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, chest heaving as you try to collect your breath. 

“if you’re going to act like a brat, then i’m going to treat you like one.”

his grip on your arms slides down to your wrists and then he’s dragging you across the room, pushing you inside his separate bedroom before you can even process what’s happening.

“you want me to tell you how i feel? fine.” he grumbles, pushing you down onto the bed and shrugging off his suit jacket. “you’re the only person around here who sees through me.”

he clamors out of his shoes and belt, discards his gear straps to the side. you’re frozen to your spot, unsure whether to undress, to walk away, or to wait for levi’s order. it’s almost laughable, how he has you collapsing so easily in a matter of moments.

“you look at me like you know what i’m thinking.”

he’s down to his trousers, shirt tosses carelessly over the footboard, before he’s crawling on top of you, movements calculated and intimidating as he pushes you back further and further like an animal toying with its prey. panting, he hovers over you, drinking up the hazy fear in your eyes.

 “you make me so fucking frustrated.” 

he grips your jaw in his hand, harshly locking his lips with yours, his rugged hold giving you nowhere to go.

levi presses another rough kiss to your mouth, swallowing the lewd sound you can’t hold back and pulls away, huffing as he forces you to look at him. “you make me feel like my life is fucking falling apart. and you’re right, that scares the shit out of me.”

he’s in a pit of turmoil, stuck between his desires and the thought of consequences, but his rash judgment pushes it all out. he’ll worry about regret later. it’s not like doesn’t already have an abundance of that hanging over him at every given moment - what’s one more?

“tell me you want me,” he grunts, stilling his movements. he needs you to say it, needs to hear you so he knows it’s real.

your arms reach up to tangle around his neck. “i want you,” you cry between his lips, hands tugging at his hair with greed, trying to pull him closer. it’s not just confirmation, it’s a plea.

warmth spreads through his body yet he feels himself shiver at the way you cling to him. it doesn’t take long to get you out of your clothes. he wants it off, off, off, and you’re not one to deny him. he bites at your neck, nips at the shell of your ear, whispers cruel teases there right where only you can hear him. each new expanse of skin you uncover for him is a new way to torture you, make you feel how much he wants you now, knowing he won’t let himself have you later in a way more than this.

his eyes are glued to you as he slips inside, staring down at the mess he’s made of you. purple lovebites blossom across your flushed, heaving chest. your cunt is dripping, aching for something only he can give you. you’re hot and needy and lewd, just for him, just how he made you, and you had the nerve to call him a coward. 

your mouth falls open at the feeling of his cock dragging sweet against your walls, squeezing him in the best way possible. it draws a low groan from him; he can’t tear his gaze away from how you tremble, dying for the moment to last, the pure pleasure he’s giving you rewarding him with how absolutely beautiful you look like this.

leaning forward, he drops his forearms to the sheets so he has you caged, chest pressing to yours. by now his skin is glossy, struggling to keep himself together with the moans you let out for him.

reaching down your figure, his calloused fingers find your clit to rub tight, hard circles that have you shaking. he picks his head up just to see your reaction, the way your eyes squeeze together, the way your back arches beneath him, the way you say his name like a prayer when you cum.

levi can bring you to your climax as many times as he wants. he’s more than able, more than willing. your body bends to his commands at a single touch. but the both of you know that’s not really what you’re here for.

he grits his teeth as he chases his own high, savoring the feel of your hands in his hair and how you clutch to his every movement, letting the confession spill off the tip of his tongue.

“fuck, i love you,” he pants into your neck, his heavy breaths puffing against your dampening skin. he feels the start crash over him in more ways than one with tears brimming on his lash line. not letting up, his strokes are smooth and fast and deep, as if he’s trying to make up for lost time, as if he’s trying to coax every filthy sound of reassurance he can out of you in the only way he knows how. “you know i do, shit, and you still make me say it.”

levi is not a man of many words, but god if he won’t give them to you when you ask.

[lovelyrots]

The Beginning of the End

Warnings : first fic I’ve written in a long while, forced infidelity, non/dubcon, Dabi is a sweet boyfriend and Keigo is a scummy bastard, oral (receiving and giving), handjob (receiving and giving), reader is fem, daddy kink, noncon filming, swearing uhhhhh message me if I’m missing anything?

Next

Breathe in. Count to five. Breathe out. It’s showtime! A grin spread across your face as you looked down at the clueless people. Sparkling gems, webs of gold and countless other riches were flaunted in every direction. And it’s all mine for the taking. You thought as you dived through the skylight and used your quirk to shatter the lights as your feet gently touch the floor. “Attention rich snobs and gentlefolk! If you don’t want your life to be over in a few seconds, I recommend you throw all your money and jewels to the floor now!” You command as you strengthen the wind within the closed space. A few people hesitate before you whip them with the air around them and they’re jumping to lighten their pockets. “Thank you all so much for cooperating! Afterall I’m sure you can afford to replace it all!” You coo as the winds pick everything up and take it all up to the roof where you have a pair of duffel bags waiting. You take in the delicious look of fear on the faces of the people, the quiet whimpers from some of the women and the way their cowardly husbands push them in front of themselves. “Now that I have just made some room in your wealthy lives for some new pieces I’ll be taking my leave, oh but don’t even think of calling for heros or the police. A...friend of mine has them tied up right now so just enjoy the rest of your party. Ta ta~!” You exclaim as the wind brings you up to your bags and your exit. Across the city you can see those bright blue flames that have always made your heart beat just a little faster. You sling the straps of the bags over your shoulders and glide on the wind down to the alleyway across from the museum and run towards the safe house. Well my safe house at least. Hopefully Dabi can make it back.

Unknown to you, there was a crimson feather tucked into one of your bags and a pair of amber eyes trailing your figure from above.

Heavy thuds sounded three times on the front door before a fourth and gentler knock had you rushing to the door. “Hey doll, hope ya had fun.” Dabi chuckled as he sauntered in and flopped on your couch. “Well not as much as you. The news kept talking about all the damage you did. I’m surprised you didn’t overexert yourself.” You reply as you pull the bags from the closet you’d hid them in and drop them on the coffee table in front of Dabi. “You know it’ll take more than that little display to wear me out. Or maybe I need to give you a reminder.” He growled out playfully before pulling you on top of him. You lean forward and nuzzle into his neck as his hands start to wander over your body. “Mm you must’ve ran into Birdbrain earlier. You only get this excited after you fight him babe.” You said between kitten licks on his neck. He started grinding up into you and gripping you just a bit tighter. “That coward saw me and took off before I could turn him into some hot wings.” Dabi chuckled as one of his hands made its way into your shorts and smirked. “No undies princess? Atta girl.” His praise had your clit started to throb with want. Knowing how his praise gets you going, he dipped two fingers into your tight entrance and circled your hot button with his thumb. “Dabi!” You shriek as he sets a rough pace, scissoring your walls before adding a third finger. “That’s right, scream my name so everyone knows how good I make you feel.” He whispered into your ear as you began to moan and whine at each stroke of your clit. “You close doll? I can feel your walls clenching. C’mon pretty girl, let me know how good you feel.” While one of his hands was shoved in your shorts, his other was tweaking and pulling on your nipple sending your pleasure-addled brain into overdrive. “So good, you make me feel so good baby! Ahh~! More, please just a bit more!” You moan and beg as you can feel your peak approach. That’s when he starts to slow his ministrations of course. And you make sure to whine and try to grind down on his hand, chasing after the peak before it leaves you. “Aw, you want to cum doll? Ask nicely and I’ll gladly make you cum.” He teased you as he swiped your clit with his thumb twice to see you squirm. “Please Daddy, please! I’m so close, please daddy! Just a little more daddy!” You beg as you try again to grind on his fingers to get some relief. “I guess since you worked so hard tonight you can cum.” He pulled his fingers out of you with a harsh squelch and laid you down on the couch as you started to whine more at the loss of his fingers. “But I want you to cum on my tongue and not my fingers.” He said while pulling your shorts off and digging his head in between your spread thighs. He started licking and stroking your clit before moving down to your slit. He lazily drew circles on your clit as his tongue delved into your sweet slit and began slurping like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. “Ah~! Daddy! You’re making me feel so good daddy! Ahh~!” You writhe below Dabi and grip his hair between your fingers as he delves two fingers in. “Mm~! ‘M close daddy! Please can I cum daddy?” You begged again as you approached your peak again. “C’mon then, cum for daddy.” He growled out as he ate you fervently.

Quickly you crashed into euphoria as his thumb rubbed your clit to help you ride out your high and he slowly withdrew his face from between your legs before looking down at you. “That’s my girl, you want me to carry you to bed?” He asked as he moved towards your face to nip at your lip. “N-no, I think I’ll crash here tonight. Thanks Dabi.” You murmur as you lean up and peck his lips. “Can’t walk yet babe? Haha I’ll just put these up then. I need to check in with Dustface and find a fence for this shit, see ya in the morning babe?” He asked from the hallway as you heard the duffel bags dropping to the floor. “Yeah, 10:30 at Sanji’s? Or should I just head to your hideout?” You offered as you cringed from the cooling puddle beneath you. “I’ll see ya at the diner. If Dustface sees you he might cream his pants and then his nanny will make me mop it up. You sure you don’t want me to carry you to bed? Or even bring you a blanket for right now?” He crouched before you. “Yes I’m sure, I just want to lay here for a couple minutes. Now go before I jump you, loser.” You shove his shoulder with a laugh that warms his core. “Alright brat, take care.” He rolled his turquoise eyes before kissing you and walking off. “Love you too babe!” You shout before you hear the door shut gently and hear the turning of the lock. You stretch out before slowly sitting up and looking down at your now ruined couch. “Damn, I need to start telling him to put me on the floor. I’ll clean it in the morning, I’m too tired for this shit right now.” You say to yourself as you get up and head to your bathroom to clean yourself up and get ready for bed.

[saorikuhara39]

Animedia October 2021 Issue Obey Me translation SHOWING YOU THE HALLOWEEN DREAM

[PLEASE DO NOT SCREENSHOT / REPOST]

(Reblogging / Comments okay)

Animedia October 2021 Issue Obey Me translation feat. Lucifer, Asmodeus

(On Sale Sep 2021)

The Black-Hearted(Bitter) Vampire and the Narcissistic(Sweet) Werewolf: Which treat would you choose?

① What do you think is your 'sweet' point?

② Tell us about your 'treats'!

③ How do you say "Trick or Treat" in your own way?

ASMODEUS

① Of course, it's my existence by itself ❤❤❤

② Yesterday I went to Devil Salon and enjoyed the "Super Beauty Muddy Course"! Of course, it's both for the face and the body! I'm already beautiful, but I look even more luscious and plump now❤. It's quite a treat for you too, don't you think?

③ Trick and treat! Because I want both sweets and pranks from you ♡ Halloween in the human world is the best time to get delicious sweets and cute mischiefs! Of course, if you also say something to me, I'll return the favour with lots of love ♪

LUCIFER

① I think I'm being too easy on my brothers. I don't mean to let them do whatever they want, but they're still family. So in the end I spoiled them. However, some idiot who decorated tapestries of Sucre Frenzy all around the House of Lamentation, claiming to be for advertising purposes, should be given a harsh punishment.

② Luke was very excited to make angel Gugelhupf with all his effort. It's a baked pastry in the shape of an angel's wings, with raspberries from the forest of the Celestial Realm as a topping. Simeon used to make it all the time, so he must have learned the recipe from him. ...That brings back memories. It was very delicious, so I look forward to it.

③ Entertain me. If you can't... you know what's coming, right?

---

Ain't afraid of no spooks and pranks!? FEAR LEVEL ANALYSIS By Lucifer & Asmodeus

LUCIFER: Whether you are scared or not, and whether you show it on the outside or not... Hmm...

ASMODEUS: Mammon is here, right?

LUCIFER: He's been off the chart from the start. Well, I can't argue with that.

ASMODEUS: Mammon's always saying things like, "I ain't afraid of nothin'!" while clinging the human behind their back. By the way, you should be here, right Lucifer?

LUCIFER: Hey. Am I off the chart too?

ASMODEUS: Because you don't get scared and you don't show it.

LUCIFER: You're in here.

ASMODEUS: What? I'm here?

LUCIFER: You're not always feeling as scared as you seem, are you?

ASMODEUS: Well, yeah. Because I'm so cute when I'm scared, aren't I? ♡

LUCIFER: Belphie is around here.

ASMODEUS: Hey! Show a little more reaction! ... I mean, won't Belphie feel a little more scared?

LUCIFER: He told me that he had a scary dream the other day and the human was comforting him.

ASMODEUS: I see. He's always acting like the youngest and getting spoiled.

LUCIFER: Satan is probably around here. Aside from anger, he is good at hiding his emotions.

ASMODEUS: Indeed! So is Beel around here?

LUCIFER: When he saw the empty refrigerator, he had a look of horror on his face, like he'd seen the end of the world.

ASMODEUS: Ahaha! So such a thing happened? I'll just pull him over a little closer here. Levi's a bit of a coward, so maybe this area suits him.

LUCIFER: That guy's too loud. He's even higher.

ASMODEUS: Like this?

LUCIFER: Yeah. We're done here.

---

HALLOWEEN DREAM CROSS TALK LUCIFER x ASMODEUS

Q: Tell us what kind of costumes will fit the other brothers.

ASMODEUS: It's got to be that costume for Levi. That Ruri-chan.

LUCIFER: ............Yeah.

ASMODEUS: Will a detective look fit Satan?

LUCIFER: Don't. He'll want to turn everything into a murder case. If it's Mammon, he might as well become a pirate.

ASMODEUS: You're right! A wild person suits a wild look! Belphie will fit as a witch. Paired with a wide-brimmed pointy hat and a broom! How about Frankenstein's Monster for Beel?

LUCIFER: I do think it looks good on him, but I have a better idea.

ASMODEUS: What~ is it?

LUCIFER: It's a hamburger. He said he wanted to try it the other day.

ASMODEUS: I can't put a finger on how I feel about this...

Q:What is the most unforgettable "prank" you have ever been involved in?

LUCIFER: The worst one is that the package and contents of the cursed records I have in my collection were switched around.

ASMODEUS: The Anti-Lucifer League is on a roll!

LUCIFER: Nothing good happens when Satan and Belphie team up.

ASMODEUS: For me, it was that time I ordered the super-special deluxe pancakes for phototaking and uploading onto Devilgram, but Beel ate them before I could take a picture! I had to place a reservation for it and it was very hard to get one!

LUCIFER: ...Was that supposed to be a prank?

[more-stuff-of-pi]

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s  most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie​, @gigglyparker​ (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)