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jodilin65 · 8 years ago

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WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2016 75 days until I call Stacey. I decided to just see what happens and then make a decision based on how I feel at the time. Just because someone puts out clear and obvious signals doesn’t mean they plan to act on them or become a home-wrecker. Getting together every now and then wouldn’t be “wrecking” anything as long as nothing “serious” happened, though I still think if I see her again it’ll be at her office.

A couple of mornings ago at 8:30, right as I was getting ready to crash, I saw Bob come out with a ladder in front of his place, presumably to trim trees. I was surprised (and a bit worried) since it was only 39° out. He didn’t wake me up, though.

Looking forward to finally receiving my bath bombs tomorrow, which accidentally got sent to the wrong place. These are supposed to be the size of tennis balls instead of golf balls.

Decided I just wasn’t all that into my voice blog so I made it a text blog. I’m not going to post daily entries there, but just use it as another place to store my yearly life updates instead.

I dreamed that Jesse owned a large rooming house in which we were renting a room. Tom was sitting on either a bed or a couch watching TV when I stepped up to the room’s only window and looked down from the upper floor we were on. Jesse lived next door and parked between the buildings.

“Only that black car is down there with its ass sticking up,” I said to Tom, referring to how the back of the car stuck up in the air.

“I want to go visit my old room next door,” I then said, and headed into a small dark room with bunk beds. I sat on the bottom bunk and remembered that the last time we were there, things were rough for us and I was miserably depressed. I remember how I sat on the bed crying for hours at a time.

My bean/veggie diet has totally lost its magic as far as keeping the hunger away. I had half a bag of veggies, 3 slices of cinnamon bread, a cup of rice, a bowl of soup, and a bag of Cheetos, yet I’m STILL hungry! :( If this is PMS can I just get my fucking period now? It’s horrible. I just CANNOT get rid of my hunger no matter how much I eat.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2016 Burke’s lucky he’s a good rat because if he was anything less than that I would have just beaten the shit out of him. I let him out and he was super wound up and playful and he nipped the shit out of my pinky. His teeth sliced the side of it and it took me a few minutes to stop the bleeding. I had to sneak into Tom’s bathroom to get a Band-Aid. Good thing he’s a heavy sleeper. The fucking thing is stinging like hell now.

The kitchen floor tiles arrived today and are absolutely beautiful. You never can really know for sure when you’re looking at a picture of something on a computer. I hope the laundry room tiles will look just as nice when they arrive.

Had some spotting. :-( That explains why I had light cramps earlier. Tom even thinks I look a little watery.

As I learned, if it’s too good to be true, it’s not true. I gained one of the 4 pounds back that I lost, though I figured I would sooner or later, and soon I might have another period. Let me guess… nothing’s going to happen with Stacey either, even if more than a part of me agrees it would be much easier if it didn’t.

The weather’s been horribly cold and it could freeze tonight. The outer corners of the living room get warmer in the summer and colder in the winter. My desk is in one of those corners, and so I pulled out the old portable heater we got up in Oregon to bring extra warmth to that area. We have an even older one that we got in the 90s in Arizona, but that one’s going out with the next bulk trash pickup.

The Twenties’ place looks really nice with all their bright colorful Christmas lights. I still say it’s a little early, though. I mean come on, it’s not even December yet. Even so, I’d like to be out admiring the different lights, yet it’s way too cold to be working out outdoors.

Signed up on Blogger for AdSense, but I don’t think I’ll really make any money with it. Not as many people know about my blog there, and Blogger’s pretty dead, so we’ll see. It’s not fully set up yet.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2016 Damn the person(s) responsible for inventing religion and brainwashing people with the God fantasy. Yeah, another Muslim refugee we so stupidly allowed into this country because it’s “politically correct” and we must, must, must have a bleeding heart for despite their unworthiness it, tried to go on a killing spree at OSU. Well, my damn good cyber friend Christine works there and I can just imagine how terrified she must have been!

As long as this country is going to remain too stupid and too ignorant to the fact that yes, some groups of people truly are more dangerous, delusional and irrational than others just like with some groups of animals, then we’re going to continue to put ourselves in danger by allowing these little fucks to terrorize us.

So obsessed with political correctness are people that they have lost all traces of common sense. Pretty sad if you ask me. What’s next? Lavishing all the love in the world on rapists and child molesters? Will it soon be politically incorrect to point out how dangerous they are as well? Will we be considered “haters” for bashing those perverts?

Man, I’m just so sick of some people’s shit in this world. People who think they were born to kill in the name of an imaginary God that doesn’t even exist. People who feel they need to use their race against others no matter how many lives they ruin in the process. People who enable, allow and encourage these people to wreak the havoc on society that they do.

Just wondering how many more people have to die or come close to it before something is done to keep these savage beasts out of this country. These people are taught to go out and kill as many people as they can that isn’t a carbon copy of themselves as soon as they’re old enough to understand. Is this what we really want to be “politically correct” over and invite into our country?

Let them kill each other instead, and if their cities are no longer habitable after they get done, that should be their problem and not ours. Why should we be responsible for picking up the pieces of death and destruction? It’s like being made to pick up the pieces of a puzzle that some spoiled brat got frustrated with and flung all over the floor. Let those who make their own damn beds lie in them!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2016 Incredibly, I’m still losing weight. I’ve now lost 4.2 pounds since the first. That’s HUGE for an older woman with Hashimoto’s. It’s going very slowly, but what’s the hurry anyway? Losing 1-2 pounds a week is reasonable. I just wish my medication wasn’t dampening some of the excitement, but I intend to discuss it with Dr. A next month.

Tom dyed my hair yesterday and this time we used a much cheaper dye. L’Oreal’s Colorsilk. It’s a little lighter and I don’t expect it to last as long as John Freida’s, but I like it better because it doesn’t stink nearly as bad and my hair doesn’t feel as fried.

So while our robot is the designated vacuum-er, and I’m the designated floor mopper, Tom is the designated carpet cleaner. It took two hours to do our giant living room, but he cleaned until he ran out of cleaning solution. It takes forever but it’s worth it since it’s something he’ll only do every six months or so. The carpet he’s done looks brand new.

All that’s left is the dining room, hallway and bedrooms. The filthiest spots are definitely by the computers, the rats’ cage, the front door, and the section of hallway between the kitchen and laundry room.

It’s been raining all day and night, and I heard one of my older, bigger wind chimes fall down in the carport. I think we got that one after we moved here, but what’s amazing is the medium-sized one in front that sounds the best. I’ve had this one for about a dozen years now and it’s still going strong!!!

Later…

And now I’m down 4.4 pounds! I went from 154.4 to 150.0. Now if only my hip and ear would stop driving me crazy!

We took our cactus plant out of the small pot it was in and replanted it in a large pot that was left here.

The four days he had off were both productive and relaxing.

It was mostly sunny all day but now it’s raining again. I can’t believe all the rain we’ve gotten so far this year. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go out walking. It’s too cold now anyway.

I was bad again, messing with Kim and Aly on NaNoWriMo after Aly changed links there. Sometimes you just gotta have a little fun, I guess. Found her by searching “Nebraska” and “nanny.” Her location and part of her bio. Kind of funny how dumb she is at times, but maybe she wants to be found. I used to notice in the past how she’d made herself rather obvious when changing names to avoid Molly. If not, every genius is entitled to a blond moment here and there. :-)

Pretty funny how Aly is afraid of Kim. When she pisses her off by leaving her hanging, she’s afraid to confront her directly and risk getting her ass dumped and then stalked shitless for years, so she dances around the subject in an indirect tweet about how rude she is.

Sadly, however, I doubt Kim will dump her given how long they’ve been friends now. I also get the feeling that they don’t have anyone else, so being the perfect twisted match that they are, I just can’t see them dumping on each other as much as I wish they would. Seriously… if Aly’s my karma for dumping Andy, then who’s her karma for dumping me? Oh, wait! It’s perfectly okay to dump me or wrong me in any way. I forget at times that people are exempt when it comes to me.

Had some very weird, long, detailed and negative dreams. In one dream I was in some crackhouse for some reason. I was excitedly trying to tell this girl in her 20s (Hispanic?) about how I tried Atkins, Nutrisystem, and other diets just to get nowhere until I went vegan.

The girl, clearly very pregnant, didn’t appear to be paying attention to me as another girl injected her with some drug.

That’s when I told myself not to bother with her. She was too young for a friend, too fucked up, and she was an obvious druggie. Plus I didn’t want to be friends with anyone with babies or toddlers.

I turned to leave, apparently on an upper floor. I walked down a long narrow hallway, heading for the stairs, just as a black cop came up the stairs and passed me.

“There are a lot of druggies in there,” I told him.

He started to enter one of the rooms.

“No, the next room,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, backing out of it as I hurried downstairs and out of the old dilapidated house. I crossed the lawn and hoped that no one would consider me a snitch and want to kill me for it.

In the next dream, I might have been talking to my mother. I entered a restaurant and approached what seemed like an older woman that I’m pretty sure was her, sitting at the counter on the stool. I had been accused of murdering some girl. I don’t know if I was just a suspect in an investigation, or if I was out on bail.

“Don’t ask me any questions,” my mother said sharply as soon as I approached her.

This really pissed me off and I stormed out of the restaurant and off to I’m not sure where. Wherever I went, I threw an ashtray full of cigarette butts on the floor. I then picked up the mess moments later.

Next, I returned to the restaurant where my mother was now sitting at a small table for two. I sat down across from her and insisted that I had nothing to do with killing the girl.

“When I was charged with prank phone calls, I was guilty of that. But I have nothing to do with this case. I don’t know this girl. I’ve never seen her. I’ve never talked to her and I have no idea who killed her.”

I turned away for a second and when I looked back at my mother she had tears in her eyes. “My God,” she said, “you really are innocent.”

Then I asked her if she was surprised about how she ended up back with my father, not that they ever separated in real life, of course.

The dream ended with one of us saying something about playing amateur sleuth and trying to find the real killer.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2016 The weather has turned cold and wintry. The afternoons usually aren’t that bad, but today it was one of those days where it just never warmed up. I’m just so glad it doesn’t snow here, though it wouldn’t be impossible. I’m in my one-piece fleece pajamas. This weather is ideal for sleeping, working out and keeping the motorcycles at bay, but I do miss the warmth.

I probably won’t be running outdoors much for the next few months and will just use the skier inside instead. Plus I still have my hip injury that doesn’t seem to want to heal.

My new gold chain fashion belt arrived and fits well, though it’s surprisingly heavy. I also got my black shirt with the cutout ¾ sleeves and it fits well, too.

Got some things done around the house today. Tom cleaned the carpet around my desk before I got up. The thing works great and it only takes a couple of hours to dry. He said the water was clear when he was doing sections along the wall, but under my chair it was black. I don’t doubt it. I’ve spilled some food and drink over the last 2.5 years.

We asked Alexa what her daily deals were, and Tom was strong enough to say “no” to the white chocolate truffles and the 5-pound Hershey’s candy bar. A 5-pound candy bar… that’s disgusting. Delicious but disgusting. No wonder there’s so much obesity in this country, haha.

I’m still losing weight since going vegan, but very slowly. I’m going to see if I can eventually coax him into the same health kick I’ve been on.

I started dusting cobwebs off the ceilings, which was raining popcorn all over the place. Damn these popcorn ceilings! I miss smoothies.

I did the laundry and switched out the light blanket for the down comforter. Hopefully, it won’t give me the hot flashes from hell, but if it does I’ll just switch back.

I’ve got about 17 more days to my appointment and to hope I don’t get a period. That’ll make 3 months!

I have felt so good physically and emotionally and I absolutely refuse to let the doctor give me any more meds no matter what the numbers end up saying.

The year was off to a shaky start, but I think that 2016 has been one of the best years of our lives.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2016 Another Thanksgiving with nowhere to go. A part of me is sad about that, but it is what it is. I just wonder if Marjorie ever thinks about the son she dumped who was too “needy” and too far away to be worth bothering with. That a mother could cast aside her own son seemingly without a shred of guilt after all he did for her when we lived near her is just abominable. Just totally and utterly appalling. I don’t doubt for a minute that she’s as guiltless as a rock on the beach or else she would have Mary and Dave contact us if she couldn’t do it herself.

Her choice. Her loss.

I had a dream I was at Tammy’s, and Lisa was there. First I hugged Sarah and then I guess I was smoking again because I lit a cigarette. Then someone gave me a letter Lisa had written for me. I suspected she wanted to play kiss and makeup by the way she looked at me from across the room.

I began walking through another room and she was suddenly walking alongside me. I pretended not to notice her because I didn’t want to consider talking to her until I read the letter. I noticed she appeared to be slim.

In reality, I don’t want anything to do with her any more than I want anything to do with aunts, uncles, and cousins I’m not connected to on Facebook. Once you’re out of my life, no matter if I dumped you or you’re the one who dumped me, that’s the way it stays. Period. Almost every time I’ve given people a second chance it’s backfired on me and I only end up kicking myself for it and wishing I never bothered.

I realize I’m pretty normal being as unforgiving as I am. I hear people preach about forgiveness all the time yet I don’t see them putting their actions where their mouths are very often. Well, “normal” or a genuine ice princess, I am the way I am with zero apologies, and I do what works best for me.

Life is still great otherwise. :-) We’re having a nice relaxing day and enjoying a break from our regular responsibilities. It’s nice to be lazy every now and then and just do what we want and nothing that we absolutely have to do.

We tried out the carpet cleaner by doing just a square patch of carpet in front of the rats’ cage and it looks beautiful. I was worried at first that the cleaning solution would smell too chemical-like, but it actually smells good. It’s amazing how much dirt came out of that one section. That’s why the next place is going to have mostly floors in which we’ll just get a robot mop like we have a robot vacuum.

Although I don’t expect to hear any landscaping today, I do expect to hear a lot of car door slamming. You know my neighbors can never go anywhere for the holidays and that everybody has to come to them. I hope I sleep through Christmas!

As expected, the assholes turned our water off for an hour yesterday.

We got a ton of packages yesterday. The strapless bra and the tank tops fit great, but the skirt, as gorgeous as it is, is way too long. I will have to wear it as a tube dress, which it says you can do.

That was a hell of a deal on the tanks. I thought they might be thin flimsy crap for the price, but nope. You can wear them to bed or you could wear them outdoors. I love all the colors, too. A dozen good-quality tank tops for $23 is a sweet deal.

Really loving shopping for groceries online. The Walmart site is slow but simple. It’s very easy to use. I just wish they would add nutrition labels to the products. I love how it keeps track of what we’ve ordered so I can kick things out of the ‘favorites’ that I try and decide I don’t like.

They gave us a goody bag with some nice samples. I didn’t care for the snacks (thank goodness for rats and husbands, LOL), but I like the Crest tooth whitening strips, the L’Oreal hair system samples, and the full-size tube of Vaseline lotion. Figures I just had to go and buy lotion right before I got this, haha, but I can never have too much. It will all eventually get used.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2016 I think I’ll just bullet today’s entry.

I had 1600 cals yesterday so my weight is the same… 150.6.

The LUX light is a complete waste of money.

Two days ago I had a strange stomach flu for 4-5 hours. It started with sharp cramps in my upper stomach. Then I had intermittent nausea.

Slept better last night but that could be because I took a lorazepam for the first time in a while after being up 18 hours.

I don’t remember a single dream.

UPS arrived at 9:30 with our carpet cleaner, goodies for Tom, and a few goodies for me.

Jasmine and her blonde buddy look great in their new pants and tops.

I now have a nice clean glass dish for my wax fragrance warmer. A tiny hole burned through the center of the other one as it got old and yucky, dribbling wax onto the bulb.

My early birthday present from Tom, a glass rainbow wind chime, is gorgeous and I love the sound of it. Now we just need some wind to go with it.

My new dress (black with a jagged chiffon hemline) is more like a tunic and looks great with my blue tights.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2016 Stacey. Losing weight. Possibly being done with periods. Help with my sleep disorder.

Is it just me or do things seem a little too good to be true lately? I’ve now lost 4 pounds, though I’m kind of doubtful about the light therapy.

I slept horribly, constantly waking up, and I’ve decided to take a few days off from the new allergy nasal spray I started to make sure that that’s not affecting my sleep in any way. I doubt it is, though. I seem to be having longer, more detailed dreams, too.

I’m going to give it a little more time, but the light therapy seems like it’s going to be a bust since I got up 1.5 hours later today, which is typical. One of the times I woke up I didn’t think I would be able to fall back asleep, so maybe I would have gotten up sooner had I slept better.

I had a two-part dream that took place at Valleyhead, even though the place looked different. Several students and even that evil Donna were there. At first everybody slept on double beds (two to a bed) in a large dorm.

One of the girls complained to Donna that they were unable to sleep with their assigned bedmates because they kept them up all night.

“You’re going to have to find two people who would be able to sleep with each other and take one of their places,” I said, not caring what Donna thought of my suggestion.

In the next scene, I was going through my clothes and realized that I needed to do laundry because I was running out of underwear. Yet every time I thought I found the opportunity to do it, something would come up, keeping me so busy I barely had time to breathe.

I woke up for a while and then when I fell back asleep I was able to get that laundry done, LOL, that I was scrambling to do in the previous dream. The laundry room was downstairs in the basement. There were three washers on one wall and three dryers on another wall. I had been waiting for a machine to become available before I realized that I was waiting for nothing because it was a dryer when I needed a washer.

Then I went upstairs and I was moving some things out of one room and into another (I guess now we were in rooms instead of dorms). As some girl was leaving the room I was moving things into, I explained to her that I wanted to put the stuff there because I would probably be in that room soon enough.

She smiled and said that was exciting.

Then on another day within the same dream, I fell asleep intending to take a short nap, but ended up sleeping all day and didn’t get up until 3 PM. I realized I would need to go to sleep when “school” started in the morning, and I awoke from the dream as I was trying to decide if I should attend class or just skip it and hope they didn’t notice my absence.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2016 “HA! HA! HA! HA!” said the ducks at the lake when I passed by the adorable Chihuahua in the pink frilly coat.

I was only out for 15 minutes because my hands froze. I don’t know why I didn’t take my gloves. It’s cold and foggy out there. I’ll make up the remaining 15 minutes on the skier.

For a few minutes after returning indoors, my left hand did this strange vibration that wasn’t visible but that I could feel. I can imagine my reaction to that one if I were on a little more levothyroxine and hadn’t been EMDRd.

Unfortunately, the kind of drug I’m on has me as worried about losing weight as I am excited. The difference between being beneficial and helpful versus being tormented both physically and emotionally is just a few micrograms and probably only a 20-pound loss in my case because I’m short. As he assured me, however, they test my levels often enough that I should have plenty of warning if I’m heading to a bad place.

I see Dr. A on the 13th. Hopefully, I will be able to tell her that my last period was right before I last saw her three months ago. Yes, I’m breaking records and I could very well be done with that. It’s still too soon to say for sure whether or not I will once again visit Bleederville, but either way, how many more periods could I possibly have?

Oh, great. Now the scammers know about my Gmail address and are spamming the shit out of that account in addition to my Hotmail and mail.com accounts. Makes me wonder if anyone I know is behind it. Would anyone really take the time to sign someone up for a bunch of shit or give their address to these shitsters?

He doesn’t think anyone I know is behind it. As he said, all it takes is one site being hacked.

The full-spectrum light therapy is off to a good start. Maybe a little too good, although the nightmare I had is why I woke up a little early. It’s way too soon to know for sure. There have been times when I would get up at the same time for three or four days in a row. If I were able to get up at the same time for a whole week, then I would think yeah, maybe we were onto something here. I might not use it for a few days if that’s the case because 4 AM is a little earlier than I would like to be getting up at. 6 AM is more reasonable. I would prefer to sleep 10 PM to 6 AM rather than 8 PM to 4 AM. I just got an early head start because I ran out of patience waiting to try it.

The one and only thing I would hate if I were always on days would be having to listen to landscaping and traffic every single day unless it was raining. The rain doesn’t always save me from that shit either.

I’m also going to hit the Bowflex and clean both bedrooms and bathrooms today. I did the laundry room last night. Tomorrow I’ll do the kitchen, dining and living room.

I got a brush made for ceiling fans when we were at Lowe’s.

We saw some robotic fish while we were at Target and joked about throwing them in the pool. That would really make the old folks wonder just how senile they were getting!

We decided to go ahead and do our huge Amazon order now rather than wait until early next month. This way we avoid the holiday rush.

He got several electronic parts/gadgets, plus I ordered a couple of boxes of the protein cookies I’ve been having on this diet in a couple of flavors I haven’t tried yet… peanut butter and birthday cake.

We got the flooring tiles and the carpet cleaner, plus I ordered a replacement dish for my wax fragrance warmer, and a new hammock/tent for the rats.

For fun things, I have about 10 things on the way, one of which is coming today. That would be my black dress with an asymmetrical hem. I will also be receiving the following list:

A glass rainbow wind chime

A rainbow sweatshirt

A beige strapless bra

A 12-pack of tank tops, each in a different color

A black long-sleeve shirt in which part of the sleeve is cut out

A gold chain belt

A floral skirt with a feather on the end of a ribbon

An assortment of 10 different bath bombs

Two tops and two pairs of pants for my 18” dolls.

In last night’s nightmare, I dreamed I was staying in some cabin in the woods with three or four other people. I guess there was a main cabin that we all met up in, but we would sleep in individual cabins that were nearby. Word was out that a killer was on the loose. On our first night there, one woman who seemed fairly youngish was a little worried about heading to her cabin alone. I told her I would watch her from the door. Her cabin was about 100 feet away, but by the time she got barely 50 feet away, a man jumped out of the shadows and started stabbing her. I opened my mouth to scream for help and for someone to call the cops, but no sound would come out as I awoke.

In another dream, my sister called to tell me she won a karaoke contest. LOL, no chance. She hates to sing. I used to win these things in the early 90s. Too bad I hadn’t yet quit smoking as I probably could have won even more.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2016 Those brown butter rum cookies were so good! Amazingly, I didn’t go up the pound I expected to go up taking a day off from my diet like I did. Instead, I went up just 2/10 of a pound. Been back on track today and didn’t get any treats at the store.

I began light therapy this morning even though I’m still getting up pretty early, and even though I don’t see how a simple light could help much. But I’ve been surprised in the past and so we’ll see if I’m surprised again.

The cheap shiny silver faucet I stupidly picked out for the master bathroom not long after we moved in here sprung a leak yesterday. A part of me is glad because no matter how much I would clean the damn thing, it would always have these white spots on it. So this morning we went to Lowe’s and I picked out a less shiny nickel-finished faucet that’s quite beautiful. It doesn’t have a single lever but it’s very stylish, way better quality, and it goes well in there. This faucet is a little higher and that should make rinsing my mouth when brushing my teeth easier. It cost $100.

Some other time we’ll replace the drain. The drains in both the sinks look kind of old and gross.

Our second stop was at Target to use a coupon for $5 off $25 worth of stuff. However, there was a hidden catch and the stuff we got didn’t qualify. As he said, this is why we don’t get their rewards card; because there are always hidden catches that weren’t advertised. I do like their store, though. They have a good selection, and for once the store was pretty dead, so we got to shop in peace.

I got a couple of necklaces that are unique to anything I’ve ever had before. One is a 3 in 1 where it has 3 gold chains of different lengths, each with a different color gemstone. The smallest one on top is clear. The medium-sized one in the middle is magenta, and then the largest one on the bottom is what I would describe as “cloudy” pink.

The other necklace is a very long strand of blue beads with little tassels on the ends. You can either wear it as a scarf or tie it in a knot in front.

Grabbed a bag of Birthday Cake bath bombs, and the cutest, most comfortable pair of slippers I ever had. Pretty sure they’re girls’ slippers. They’re pink and blue furry slippers with a scattering of shiny firs and they go a few inches above the ankles. I kind of wish I had boots like these. Initially I wanted something convenient that I could quickly step in and out of, but when I saw these I said screw convenience. They were just too adorable to pass up.

They did a good job with the groceries that we ordered online and we’re thinking this is what we’ll probably do for the most part. There was only one thing missing that they substituted for.

I’m going to order some of the protein cookies that I’ve been having online because it’s cheaper that way. Meanwhile… no meat until after the labs at the beginning of next month.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 2016 I’ve been alive for 18,600 days. That’s what Alexa just told me. She also told me that there are 87 days until Valentine’s Day. I can’t wait! thinks of Stacey and smiles

So now the Trumpster is whining about his sidekick getting booed, and demanding an apology. Oh, but he has no apology for the women he sexually abused, right? Seriously if these two can’t handle those who can’t stand them, then why don’t they just resign?

This cold rainy day is passing too slowly. This is the last Saturday in a while that DH should have to work. He should be home around 1:00. We ordered groceries from Walmart for the first time and he will be picking them up on the way home.

I’ve lost 3 pounds since turning 80% of my diet into vegetables. I have pretty much cut out meat completely, but not for forever. Forever is just too long. I’m sure I’ll have both meat and sweets on weekends. It’s just too close to lab time for me to be having any cholesterol right now. I’m not even eating fish, which doesn’t have as much cholesterol as beef does.

My sweet treat this weekend is going to be something new to try that I stumbled upon while shopping… Pepperidge Farm brown butter rum cookies.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2016 Was today another noisy day? Well, of course it was. Landscaping here, landscaping there… landscaping everywhere, every single fucking day.

I kind of wish it was bedtime now because I’m bored. I’m at that point in my day where I’m no longer awake enough to do anything productive, but I’m not tired enough to fall asleep yet either.

Instead, I’m sitting here wondering why my joints are so stiff. This time it’s my other hip and I have a little stiffness in my lower right back.

I’m also sitting here thinking of how it’s almost always been me that initiated friendships and relationships and even just casual conversations be it online or offline, and how that gets to me at times. It just bothers me that not as many people have cared to seek me out as much as I cared to seek them, even if it’s just to say hello.

But then I realized that hey, maybe this is just the one way I was meant to be a leader in life. For some reason, I have been “designated” to be the one to make the first move, even if I don’t always get very far. I’m not sure I like that any more than I like the idea of being a follower. I’ve never had any desire to be a leader in life or a follower, though I’ve been forced to be a follower many times by circumstances beyond my control.

Seriously, I was obviously meant to be a real leader in this way for whatever reason, plus I also realize that not everybody cares enough to remember names like I do, nor do they have the ability to if they did. Furthermore, they probably don’t have nearly 30 year’s worth of journals to refer to for any names they might have forgotten.

Either way, if patterns hold true to themselves then I should never hear from Stacey again unless I contact her. My head says not to bother but my heart is curious. I can’t believe even a friendship would come of it but there’s still a part of me that feels it’s hard to believe it wouldn’t. Not that she would intentionally do any such thing, but I’ve been led on by women before, so this is why I’m hesitant to bother with her. Again, not that it’s her intention to lead me on, but women have gotten my hopes up in ways that men never have, for even just a friendship. Then again, I don’t know if I can fairly make that comparison when I haven’t been interested in very many men in my life.

I just wish I knew what she was open to. Does she have any particular hopes for us? I will admit that a part of me, even if it’s a very small part, has sometimes wished for a woman on the side to spice things up and add variety to my life. It isn’t that my life is bad or that I feel I’m missing anything; but more like me being open to any fun and interesting additions.

But just how open am I really to anything more than friendship? That’s the one thing I’m not sure of, and I guess no one ever is unless they’re actually in that situation and have to make a choice.

I’m guessing that the only thing she would be open to is meeting in her office, and I would certainly be okay with that if I knew for sure that she didn’t have anything else in mind, and I’m still guessing that while she gave me every indication to believe that she’s attracted to me (no, I definitely didn’t imagine that), she would remain professional. If even friendship is forbidden between a counselor and a former patient, I just can’t believe she would risk her license and career even if she may be coming to the end of it, just because someone might have noticed her in a way she probably hasn’t been noticed for years. Would I really be worth it to her?

If only I knew what she wanted because then I would be willing to work with that as long as she didn’t have any ridiculous expectations in mind, and again, I just can’t imagine her of all people wanting more than I could give, let alone wanting what I could give.

Only time will tell for sure as things play themselves out over the upcoming months, years… whatever. For now, I can just guess that if I ever do see her again it will be in her office.

When I call her on Valentine’s Day, because I know she’s not going to call me first, I was thinking I might let her know that I miss her and see if she suggests I come to see her. I thought I would also see if she was open to texting or email.

So yeah, I’ll “lead” the way by calling Stacey and being told that I’m welcome to come and see her, but that text or email is not an option, even though she seemed quite pleased when I gave her my contact info, and even though she was clearly attracted to me.

I suppose I shouldn’t think that negatively. After all, I never would have believed that someone like her would be attracted to me in the first place, yet she is. I just don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing, even though it’s not like I’m going to ball my eyes out if things don’t go my way. I’m not the person I was 15 years ago when Johnson fucked with my head. But why invest the time?

If I see Stacey, great. If not, I will always appreciate the help she gave me and I will always have her memories to cherish.

I think it’s her not going to my blog, and her asking if I would be okay with not meeting a certain woman that’s got me thinking a little negatively.

Foolish or not, though, I am thinking positively more than I’m thinking negatively where she’s concerned because she gave off more positive signs than negative signs.

I just wish I knew if she’s got it in mind to call me after a certain amount of time has gone by, or if she’s hoping that I’m the one to make the first move.

Well… I’m 99.9% sure that I’m going to be making that first move.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2016 I’ve been hearing less and less from Tammy but I understand that she is no doubt excited to catch up on things she hasn’t been able to do now that she’s got more energy since being stented, and is breathing easier since quitting smoking. She does still have fibromyalgia, though, and invited me to a Facebook group she created, even though I’m rarely on Facebook these days, and don’t know how I could possibly contribute other than to send my love and well wishes.

I don’t have chronic pain throughout my body; just in my left hip and my ear that isn’t really my ear, and it’s not quite “chronic.” I do get some days off. I just think it’s rather sad, as I told her, that it took 3 doctors in 12 years to finally be told what it is. It’s jaw joint arthritis, which was probably caused by my ear surgery. I can’t swear that I wouldn’t have it had I not had surgery, but I have a feeling I wouldn’t. The more I looked up the symptoms, the more I think my ENT is right on with the diagnosis she gave me. Funny because the last two EMTs were males. Yet Trump thinks males are smarter? Who the hell does he think he’s kidding? I’ve always known women were the smarter gender. This doesn’t mean there aren’t smart guys out there – my hubby is probably smarter than 98% of the population – and that there aren’t any stupid women in this world, but I think that women are smarter in general. Anyway, it’s called Temporomandibular Joint Disorders (TMJ and TMD).

They say that understanding something helps us to deal with it better, but I’m not sure in this case. I think all it does is settle my curiosity. They can’t fix this any more than they can cure my circadian rhythm disorder, so my knowing and understanding don’t change anything.

I was chatting on Yelp with this poor girl named Kristi in Woodland who was asking me about my old endocrinologist. She’s having the exact same symptoms I am and I assured her that my old endo is definitely the one to go to. Being older she’s had more experience, and she’s very understanding and knowledgeable. She understands that you can’t look at just the numbers and assume that every patient’s ideal numbers are going to be within their standard reference range. She’s super nice, too. A little stern at times, but nice. I told her of the symptoms I had and how frustrating it was with my old team of doctors at the old medical group telling me, “Oh, you’re just anxious,” when I knew it wasn’t normal for me to have my heart feel like it was going to jump out of my chest. So… I feel for her. I really do. I know how horrible and downright scary it can be. Just don’t expect to recover for a few months, I reminded her, since levothyroxine isn’t like aspirin where it leaves the body after a matter of hours.

It’s a very chilly 38° out now and I’m really hoping today is quieter than yesterday. First I had to hear landscaping at the house diagonally from us, then Bob broke out his blower, and then the park came by with their insanely loud blower, and I’m like, “Can we please stop it already?!”

At least it’s too cold for the motorcycles.

I don’t remember much of what happened, and the dreams only seemed to last for a second or two, but Stacey appeared in a record-breaking three or four dreams. I know we’re supposed to dream about things that are on our minds, but I’ve thought of her pretty much every day since last summer, yet this is the first time she showed up in my dreams this much. Although none of the dreams seemed to be negative in any way – if anything one of them might have been rather explicit – I don’t get the feeling that they mean anything. In other words, I don’t think they’re a sign of anything in particular to come.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2016 Although I’m keeping my Facebook account, I’m only checking in for messages once a week because I’m sick and fucking tired of nothing but political rants. No matter what side of the coin you’re on, too much is too much, and I’ve definitely had enough. Every day I tune in to hear about people and subjects that are beyond old and I’m tired of it. But people have a right to post what they want.

Even if people post a good mix of variety on Facebook, I prefer other social sites where I have more control over my privacy and can interact with people privately if I choose to do so. If I don’t want a certain Facebook friend knowing I’ve been there, I can’t comment on another friend’s post without it being waved in front of their faces.

My blog posts will still be shared there, which I don’t have to do from Facebook, and I let Tammy know that she should email me if anything important happens with her or the girls, as when I check in for messages I’m not going to be combing the newsfeed. Politics, religion, racism, Bill G… I’ve had enough.

The park not only had our water off again (I knew it was due to be shut off anytime now) but they also never warned us ahead of time like they did the last few times. I hope the office was bombarded with calls and messages from people complaining! I wonder when people are going to get so fed up that they demand space rent cuts. Over $800 a month for this shit? Come on! Actually, it’s over a grand when you add in trash pickup and shit like that.

I slept through the water shutoff, but I knew the water had been off when I got up and used the toilet cuz it “farted.” Poor Tom, though. It was off when he got home at 5:30 and it was still off when he went to bed at 7:45.

I’m now 8 hours away from trying the circadian light.

We’ve changed our mind as far as going with solid white in the kitchen. It would just look too stark in comparison with the maple cabinets. More than likely it will be flower power all the way with each section having a neutral color with some kind of flower design on it.

I was going to throw in some watercolor paints and a watercolor pad in the next Amazon order we’re planning, but then said, nah. I’m just not into being artistic in that kind of way anymore.

Last night I dreamed there was either a warrant out for my arrest or I was going to be charged with something (I don’t know what) and my brother was alive and either working for the police department or someone connected to it. I was talking to him on the phone and he was somehow going to take care of things for me by having someone pick me up that he knew.

I waited in this strange house with a cluttered living room and old dingy-looking kitchen, but whoever was supposed to pick me up never arrived. I called and told Tom I was tired of waiting and that I didn’t give a shit if there was a warrant out for my arrest or not at that point.

I then stepped out the back door of the house which was off the kitchen and began what I knew would be a long walk to some office.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2016 I laughed when Tom told me he thought we should get roller skates to use around the park until the thought of using them on this hilly terrain changed his mind. He couldn’t even walk in the snow and ice in Oregon without falling on his ass, so how does he expect to be able to roller-skate? He’s right, though. This terrain is too hilly even for those of us who can actually skate.

We went out walking late last night. I didn’t think the moon looked that much bigger than usual, but it was definitely bright. Of all the places I’ve lived, the moon looked the biggest in the desert.

The yellow African daisies just outside the front door are blooming nicely now. strange time of year for them to come to life, but I guess they thrive in the cooler temperatures.

It was pretty cold on our walk last night, down in the 40s. I had my hoodie on as well as a scarf and knit gloves. It’s supposed to rain today and then by Friday night get down into the 30s. Ugh.

We’ve now got a pretty good idea of what tile designs we’re getting. Tom said he would go with white in the kitchen and at first I thought white would look too sterile, almost like in a hospital. But compared to my surprisingly few other choices, I think white would be our best bet for that room.

I’ve chosen beige tiles with small pink flowers and their centers for the laundry/bath areas. Really wish we could see what they’d look like in the rooms, but even if I printed pictures out, the colors we see online aren’t always true.

One of the things they voted on in California was to stop using thin plastic grocery bags. They’ve gone to thicker plastic bags that are reusable and that cost a dime each if you decide to keep getting new ones. I figured that we might as well make it more fun and colorful, and so I picked out a 9-piece set of grocery totes on Amazon, each one being a different color.

Not that I’m complaining, but where are all the motorcycles? Even before it cooled down I noticed that I haven’t been hearing any.

Here’s something that’s probably meaningless but a little strange just the same. About a week or two ago, I heard this strange creaking sound late at night. At first I thought it was Tom’s chair, which creaks when he moves. But he was asleep and this particular creaking sound was consistent in volume, pitch and length of time.

Then one day I was standing in the kitchen waiting for my coffee to finish brewing. As I slowly shifted my weight back and forth I noticed the exact same sound. It was then that I remembered Andy, who insisted he was just as psychic with ghosts as I am at times with dream premonitions, told me that the spirit of the guy who used to live here was present.

Hmm… interesting. Still not sure I believe in ghosts, especially since I’ve never actually seen one, despite some signs suggesting that our land in Arizona was haunted. I’ve never had the feeling that this place is haunted, but it was a weird coincidence. If Andy was right, what does the guy do… walk around the kitchen late at night on occasion?

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2016 I just searched different combinations of keywords and actually got about half a dozen psychologists in the state with the first name of Stacey. That could be cut in half based on area, and yes, there is another one in Sacramento. But even so, anyone could call them all. Giving her real first name hasn’t caused any harm yet, but if God forbid some psycho troll latched onto me and called all the Stacey psychologists in my area, I would be so pissed. Stacey wouldn’t give out any information of course, but it’s one thing for trolls to come at me, and another when they go after people I know.

At this point I don’t know what gets to me more… Trump winning or the fact that people have become so obsessed with him that he’s all I hear about no matter where I go. Then again, Trump didn’t “win.” Hate won.

Really wish people would find a – shall we say – healthier obsession. Dwelling on shit that can’t be changed, unless someone can find a way to assassinate both him and Pence.

Lenore peeked in on me after the election but hasn’t been back since. I’m guessing she was curious about my reaction to who was elected.

The more I think about it the more I’m sure that whenever I start a low-calorie diet, the few pounds I always lose isn’t weight but water instead. If the diets were really causing weight loss I would ultimately lose more than just a few pounds, wouldn’t I? I think that for some reason it just triggers water loss.

My Aurora Borealis sweatshirt arrived and fits great. Any smaller and it would be too tight. The material is thicker and of better quality than I thought it would be for the price. The only thing is that the design appears to be a bit darker than it does online.

We went to Walgreens earlier where we both got some junk food. He got chips and cakes and I got a candy bar and Tic Tacs. Other than Tic Tacs, I’m determined to cut out the junk starting tomorrow. It really isn’t good for me. It’s what Tom mostly eats, however, which is unfortunate.

I also got a large rose-gold barrette, which is hard to find. So whenever I spot barrettes this large I grab them.

I also got a pair of blue leggings with faint white streaks. They’re slightly tight but wearable. Now I have leggings in four different colors.

For $10 I got six Hawaiian Lei bath bombs that I’ll be looking forward to trying tomorrow.

The Supermoon is huge and bright, so we’re going out walking just after 3 AM after he’s had a chance to wake up. He still likes to get up a few hours before work so he doesn’t feel rushed and he has a chance to do things that he likes to do.

I let the rats out earlier. Burke always wants to come out, but Dumbo sometimes does, and Simon almost never does. Rats eventually find their way back home when you leave their cage door open. Once Burke was home I shut the door thinking everybody was home. Burke and Dumbo are both dark brown, and an hour or two later I see a dark brown rat climbing up the door. I immediately thought it was Burkey boy and wondered how the hell he got out, but when I picked him up I noticed right away that the fir was coarse and wooly and not smooth and silky like Burke’s. Plus, there were the “down” ears instead of the top ears, and so I knew it was Dumbo. He’d obviously been out the whole time and probably fell asleep behind my desk.

Later…

This bath bomb wasn’t quite as good as the big bomb I got at BB&B, but it was better than the set of small bombs. Still had to lotion up my driest spots… legs/forearms. Didn’t mess up the tub, though, so that’s good. Will probably get more from Walgreens eventually. As for the online variety pack… don’t know. Will leave it in ’save for later’ for now.

I’m excited about the huge Amazon order we’ll be doing next month. Each year we do a huge order and take the year to pay it off. This isn’t just about getting fun stuff, but things we need, as well.

It’s been 2.5 years since we had the carpet installed and it definitely needs to be cleaned. Because I went with a lighter color, dirt tracked in from outdoors is more evident. For about the same price as a rental, you can buy a decent carpet cleaner. That way we can do it at our own convenience anytime we want.

We’re also going to get the floor tiles and FINALLY redo these hideous floors.

Got up just after 7pm, which means I’m now 11 hours from trying the circadian light. I’m going to try to hold my schedule so that I’m sleeping between 10pm - 6am. I still seriously doubt it will help long-term. I know it’s helped some people, but as recent studies have shown, sleep schedules aren’t all about light like they originally thought it was or else they wouldn’t have discovered this particular disorder in some blind people as they have.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2016 Read that in 1995 the Code of Ethics had a 2-year ban on sexual relationships between counselors and clients. Then it was raised to 5 years after termination of therapy in 2005.

But what about just a friendship with a former counselor???

I’ve asked myself over and over again… despite the mutual attraction and fondness that any idiot would’ve picked up on, would I actually want anything more than just a friendship if the choice were mine?

Definitely not. I just don’t feel the need for a side dish nor would I have the confidence for that even if I did, thanks to being fat and older. I could see kissing, hugging, snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie, but definitely not spreading my legs.

The experts insist that even long after termination of therapy, and even if the client is open to sex, it is harmful to the client. I can totally see this being the case if the client goes to a therapist because they were raped, and that therapist takes advantage of their vulnerability and fragile state of mind.

But what about a nonsexual relationship involving a client who went to a therapist on account of a scary reaction to a medication? Rape is a long way away from a drug that can scare the shit out of you in the wrong doses. I just don’t know if we can really lump every single client into one big group like that. Then again I’ve never had any kind of relationship with a former counselor, and I don’t expect to despite the “signs,” so I can’t say for sure how I might end up feeling. My guess is that I wouldn’t feel any different than had I been sitting across from someone on a bus when I happened to be anxious and was given tips on how to handle it, as opposed to sitting across from someone in a room who gave me the same tips.

I know I said this with Johnson, but it’s a little hard to believe that something won’t eventually happen, even though there were a few signs saying it wouldn’t. Not checking out my blog was the biggest sign saying she might actually have zero hopes/plans to meet later on down the road, and personally, it’s really very hard to picture Stacey of all people doing anything unethical. If she has any future hopes or plans for us, then I certainly couldn’t be the first one she’s had them with. So then how would she be getting away with this for 27 years even if it only happened a few times? Would she have waited or something? I suppose if she waited or no one said anything, then she wouldn’t be at risk of losing her license. Again, very hard to picture her ending up friends or fuck buddies with any old clients, but I never would’ve guessed in a million years that I’d catch the eye of a therapist either. Cassandra, which I saw back east in 1991 might have been attracted to me, but this is totally different. Totally.

The not knowing what’s going to happen is slightly frustrating but it’s mostly fun because it keeps things interesting and gives me something to look forward to. The only difference is that if it comes down to me realizing we’re never going to see each other outside the office, I’m not going to be devastated over it for four months like I was when I realized I’d never hear from Johnson again because I’m older and smarter than that now. Then again I don’t know if smarter is a good choice of words, but maybe I’m just better, not as needy, and used to things turning out a certain way.

I keep almost nothing from Tom but I have chosen not to let him in on Stacey’s attraction for me for now so that he doesn’t go getting his paranoid pants on, even if I’m smart enough to know that he knows me better and we’ve been “just friends” for ages now. Attraction or not, we’re not going to get it on like we’re in our 20s, and I’m not going to run off with her into the sunset either. He will know someday. Just not right now unless he’s reading my journals. Otherwise, the only ones who know at the moment are Tammy and some PBers.

I don’t expect to see her ever again, but I’m definitely open to a friendship, and I still plan to call on or around Valentine’s Day, depending on my schedule at the time.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2016 I love to think. I mean really sit and think. It’s good for the brain. It allows you to imagine real possibilities as well as to indulge in fun fantasies. The brain can be one giant workshop or can be one giant playground. It’s an outlet for creativity as well as a means of cultivating understanding and knowledge.

So I sit here tonight and I wonder… how have we become more tolerant yet still so intolerant? We’re more tolerant in that we’ll give blacks extra rights/protection and we’ll allow gays to marry, yet overall we can’t tolerate shit. Or better yet we won’t.

And what is it with the stupidity? Sorry folks, I don’t mean to sound like a know-it-all as I’m the last one who has all the answers, but shouldn’t some things be rather obvious and a simple matter of common sense?

Are there really still people out there who still believe that there’s no such thing as global warming?

Or medical conditions that really can make you depressed or anxious?

That gay/bi people choose to be gay/bi due to rape or incest and that it’s all about body parts only and not the gender as a whole? Yes, we can choose, alright. We can choose not to be who we are. But wouldn’t that be like eating nothing but foods you don’t like for the rest of your life? I wouldn’t change who and what I am because I don’t give a shit about what others think of me. I’m much too selfish to care. But I have a feeling that if we had more control over certain things, we would see a radical change pretty fast.

Later…

I’m normally one who believes in resolving issues without violence, yet I have never in my life wished for a president to be assassinated as I do now. Seriously, he needs to go. We can’t afford to have people like him in this world, especially as a leader. He’s just too fucked up and too dangerous. So please, please… Someone out there… Do the right thing. I don’t care if it’s slow and torturous or short and sweet. Just someone… Get rid of him!

Sure enough, people have begun rioting as I figured they would. While white people have been involved in the riots, I’m not at all surprised that a high school black girl beat the crap out of a white schoolmate for supporting Trump. Gee, blacks, that’s really going to make us like you.

It’s sickening how many bystanders just sat and did absolutely nothing until one girl finally helped. And why do Facebook and Twitter post this shit?

Later…

I couldn’t wait for the election to be over because I was so sick and tired of hearing about the candidates and political shit as a whole, yet everywhere I go online people are STILL going on and on about it. It really is getting old and I wonder when people will move on.

I can’t stand Trump either and I would love to see him and Pence assassinated, but it’s not going to happen, so we might as well just get on with our lives and remember that they’re not as powerful as some may think. There are 2 of them and there are about 300 million of us. I say they’re pretty outnumbered no matter who/what they are. :-) But yeah, even though I’ve always believed in resolving issues without violence, this is the first pair in which I wouldn’t lose a single tear if they got taken out of the picture. The only problem is that it’s become virtually impossible to do since the Reagan attempt.

While we are on the damn subject… I read an interesting journal entry of someone’s that spoke of people’s twisted views/laws no matter what side of the coin they’re on. They pointed out some of the following issues, although maybe not in so many words.

If you wouldn’t vote for Obama because he’s black, you’re racist. If you voted for him because he’s black, you’re not racist.

If you don’t want a shitload of Muslims coming over here that have no regard for American law, believe that gays should be pushed off of buildings and that no woman should be allowed to leave home without a male relative, you’re once again racist.

But then if you support Muslims coming over here that refuse to abide by our law and that want to kill damn near everybody they disagree with, you’re just a sweetheart.

If you voted for Trump, you’re sexist, and if you voted for Hillary, you’re still sexist.

If you’re in favor of birth control, you’re a real ass for believing that women should have total rights to their lives and bodies.

If you’re against birth control, then you’re saving “lives.” You know, those lives that aren’t really lives but actually just a cluster of cells with zero sense of awareness?

If a black person beats the shit out of a white person, it will probably be labeled simple assault and they might get just a few months in jail.

If a white person beats the shit out of a black person, it will probably be labeled a hate crime and that person may very well go to prison for life.

In non-political news, I had palpitations twice when out walking. Really hope it does this during my stress test, but it probably won’t. It doesn’t do it every time I work out. It fluttered a few times as I was climbing the “rollercoaster,” then once as I was coming uphill from the lake. But like a car quits making those funny noises when brought to the mechanic, my heart probably won’t flutter during the test.

Even though it’s way too early being that it’s not even mid-November yet, someone’s got a bunch of Christmas lights running alongside the lake and it looks really cool the way it reflects off the water. I wish I had my camera.

The muscle injury in my lower left gut has healed, but the pain in my lower side is back. Tough shit. I have to work out. Not working out will raise both my weight and my cholesterol.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2016 Walmart is now offering this service where you can order your groceries online, they pick them out for you, and then you pick them up. This is awesome and it would save him a lot of time. The one thing I miss from our old place (besides the seclusion) was when we used to use Raley’s for this service which, strangely enough, isn’t available outside of the rural areas.

It’s nice to know that Sheriff Joe Arpaio will not be reelected. He’s a genuine piece of shit and I honestly don’t know why he’s still alive. He’s pissed off so many people and made so many enemies. I understand his frustration with illegals, but to make inmates live in tents like they’re fucking dogs in doghouses in the brutal heat of the desert is totally inhumane. I can see this with a rapist perhaps, but with women who are prostitutes or druggies? Do they really deserve and need to be treated like animals?

I haven’t had any heartburn in a while now. It definitely had to do with that deep-dish pizza I was getting. It was just way too greasy. I have felt a lot better since I changed my diet and started eating less. Yes, I’m hungry at times but I would honestly prefer that to feeling full and bloated. I eat six times a day, every few hours, and I virtually cut out all cholesterol. I mostly have veggies. I split a giant protein cookie that is loaded with vitamins and nutrients but still tastes good in half for the first two times I eat since it’s two servings. The next two times I eat I split one of those Birds Eye protein mix bags. I really like the Tuscan and the Italian-style mixes. The California and Hawaiian styles are so-so. I won’t dare try the Southwestern or the Thai styles because I don’t like spicy foods. Curry sauce, chili, hot peppers, jalapeños… no way.

I also have a small kiddy yogurt and a fruit cup in between.

As usual, my weight began to reset itself as soon as I hit 151.8, and I don’t doubt that I’ll be back to the 154.4 that I started at, even if I keep dieting. This is where my body feels comfortable and that’s OKAY. I still feel better this way, it keeps me regular, it’s healthy, it’s low cholesterol, and it’s cheaper than TV dinners.

There really are benefits to keeping the extra weight as well as losing it. I would be healthier, more flexible, and better looking if I lost weight. But this way the clothes I got will still fit, my wedding band will still fit, and I don’t have to worry about my meds backfiring on me.

For once I slept okay and didn’t wake up too hot.

I don’t know which rat it was or if it was just some fictitious rat, but last night I dreamed that we were staying somewhere for a while and the rat we had at the time loved it there so much that we decided to leave it behind when we left. No way we would ever do anything like that, of course. Rats can be happy anywhere as long as they have food, love and attention.

Then I was in some store and I just had to have this purple and black dress that was part of some Halloween costume. I was also looking through some strange journal as well.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2016 I still can’t believe Trump won. Everything was pointing to Hillary winning, and she did win the popular votes. No offense to female Trump voters since it was your right to do so, but I have to wonder what kind of self-respect a woman could possibly have for herself if she chooses someone who hates her for the body parts she was born with. Because she thinks he’s going to stop illegal immigration? Well, think again because he just doesn’t have the kind of power a lot of people like to think he has. The vast majority of his power is over the military. I don’t know that I buy his claims of being so anti-immigration anyway because his wife started off as an illegal and he has illegals working for him. I think politicians simply say whatever they think is going to make them the most money whether it’s what people want to hear or not. Yes, I wanted Hillary, but she’s a self-serving, greedy liar too. They all have their good and bad, but I do think this team definitely has more bad than good.

Personally, I wish people would stop coming over here even the legal way because we have enough people here already hogging our precious resources. I highly doubt my husband would have spent 2.5 years on unemployment during the recession if outsiders weren’t coming over by the thousands to take what’s ours.

I know that we’re all entitled to our beliefs and that a simple belief is harmless, but Pence’s belief that gays can be cured through conversion therapy is utterly ridiculous. No one gets to choose their sexual orientation whether they’re gay, straight or bi like me. If one could be converted to being attracted to the opposite sex, then one could be converted to being attracted to the same sex. This isn’t possible, and even if it was… why??? Why should one be forced to change their sexual preference so long as they’re consenting adults?

As I said, he only has so much power, so at least we can take solace in knowing that he can’t strip women of their rights and salaries, he can’t dissolve gay marriages, and he can’t paint black people white either, as I was telling someone else. Tom doesn’t think he’ll ignite World War III, even though that’s what some people fear. We do believe Middle Eastern Muslims will attack more Europeans, however, because Europeans are the closest people they can take their frustrations out on. These are people who believe violence is the answer to everything and will use the slightest excuse to act on that belief.

I know some people are worried that this is sending the wrong message to society saying that it’s okay to hate, and that it’s going to fuel more hatred, but I don’t think it will. There were haters long before Trump hit the scene. I think people become haters because they either choose to do so or they had a horrible personal experience that made them hate.

Even so, and even though I’m a person who does not condone violence whatsoever, I wouldn’t lose any tears if Trump were ever assassinated. I doubt very much it’ll happen, but then again I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be elected either.

Later…

I had a dream that Aly tweeted to me. Good luck with that Hündin, since you don’t know of my Twitter account. She RTd a tweet saying that it’s easier to forgive an enemy than a friend. I’m sure that was aimed at me, too. Still can’t believe she feels she can’t “forgive” someone who was just being honest with her, but as we all know, the world is full of idiocy and senselessness. So yeah, if you tell a friend that she’s getting to be a little too demanding and clingy, and you warn her about phony crazies trying to burn her, you just might find your ass being dumped like yesterday’s trash. Great world we live in, ay?

Lenore is back, too.

Speaking of violence and the way kids act so animalistic these days, Tom was pointing out how my parents probably thought they were helping me by putting me through ear surgery because even though I was a bully, especially in elementary school, kids were much crueler and violence was much higher in the 60s and 70s despite there being fewer people. When our parents were kids, and even when he was a kid, it was socially acceptable for big kids to pick on little kids, just like child abuse was practically legal. If my siblings and I were born in the 90s and later instead of the 50s and 60s, our parents would have been arrested for many of the things they did if they parented in a similar fashion. Child Protective Services would have at least been called to investigate, that’s for sure.

It’s because parents are less violent as a whole that today’s children are out of control. He totally has a point when he said that you either beat them into submission and controlled them with intimidation, threats and violence, or you just let them be, and there isn’t much else in between. I’m sure there are some people who can breed and raise good kids without the violence – he came out just fine without the physical force – but he still does have a point. It’s much quicker and easier to control a person with violence than through words. Either that or money or maybe blackmail. But blackmail comes under the category of intimidation.

This is a tough one for me because while we don’t support child abuse of any kind, I sure miss the days when we could go to stores and restaurants and not be bombarded with screaming, spoiled brats running all over the place. I spent my first 26 years in the East and I don’t remember screaming kids in any restaurants or stores I ever went to. Ever. Things changed around the time I moved to Arizona in the 90s.

So do we bring back and make the unacceptable acceptable once again? I say definitely not. But there doesn’t seem to be much of a happy medium or any other way around the issue. My mother would have kicked my ass if I carried on like today’s kids back when I was a kid. But if she had been like most modern parents, I would’ve been a totally different kid and probably a different adult as well.

Another thing that pisses me off is the dual standards, and this has nothing to do with who the president is. If I beat the shit out of another white person I would be put in prison for years, but if they were black, it would automatically be labeled a hate crime even if that wasn’t the issue at all, and I would be sent to prison for life because they are a “protected class” right along with cops in most state and government officials. I’m sorry, but I still don’t see how blacks are supposed to be discriminated against on the large scale some claim they are. I can see the gays still being shit on by the masses, but with all the special laws and privileges that blacks have that whites don’t, where’s the so-called discrimination that’s supposed to be running rampant?

Later…

I hope Michelle Obama decides to run for prez in 2020. I really do. Tom and I both agree she stands a chance of winning. I think that because she’s black she has a good chance right there despite being a woman. You know me, I still say racism is exaggerated while gay-bashing is played down.

We both agree that she stands a chance because she gives better speeches and she comes off as nicer and friendlier than Hillary. Hillary is just as smart but she does come off as rather stern and businesslike in comparison. So while I may not care for blacks as a whole, Michelle is one of those exceptions and I wouldn’t mind her for president at all.

It really pisses me off that they legalized marijuana in California. Not because I care what others choose to do to their own bodies. Oh no, if you want to kill your brain cells and make yourself a fuckedtarded zombie, go ahead. The problem I have with it is that now I’ll have to gag on secondhand pot smoke when I’m out in public just like I do with cigarette smoke. I’m sure they’ll keep it out of restaurants as with cigarettes, but no one’s going to give a shit if I would prefer to breathe in clean air rather than the joint you’re smoking by the door to the Walmart I’m about to enter or exit.

Tom, however, thinks it will be treated like alcohol, which means you can’t do it in public unless it’s in a place specifically designated for that. Let’s just say this is another reason for me never to want to return to a casino.

So yeah, make yourself forgetful, make yourself stupid, give yourself lung cancer, shorten your lifespan, waste a shitload of money. Just don’t do it at my expense, ok?

Later…

Before meeting Tom, and with very few exceptions, I did a great job of attracting mostly losers. Jobless, carless, stupid, immature people that bordered on crazy. I realize that a lot of us older folks look back on our youth able to say the same thing. Youth often attracts the wrong types no matter how with it we may be.

Yet even before I started turning the heads of the computer wizards, the cops, the lawyers, the nurses and the psychologists, there has always been another pattern present in both my younger and older lives. I seem to mostly – not always but mostly - attract the shy, quiet types. Okay, so Stacey isn’t exactly shy. Quiet, but not shy. Tom is more on the shy side just as Brenda was.

The only problem with shy people is that they tend to be the ones who aren’t very exciting in bed. Then again, Brenda wasn’t that bad and she sure had a major appetite.

As sweet and as likable as Stacey is (I honestly can’t imagine anyone in the world not liking her), I can’t imagine her being very romantic even though she’s not what I would consider shy. You can’t be shy and sit and counsel people all day. She is on the quiet side, but definitely not shy.

For one who’s always had the habit of trying to imagine what people might be like in ways I’ll probably never know firsthand, I just think she would be a major bore in bed with probably not much of an appetite. She is older, though, and you don’t usually have much of an appetite as an older woman anyway. I know the one I started to “vibe” back crapped out pretty quickly.

I still wonder the same things I’ve been wondering about her. Does she think of me as often as I think of her? Does she have any specific hopes for the future? Although I can’t imagine even being just her friend, it’s also hard to imagine her never wanting to see me in some way shape or form because how many other me’s could there possibly be out there? Sweetheart or not, great body or not, she’s not what most people would consider attractive, plus she’s older. Can that many people, like me, stop and say to themselves, you know, there’s just something about Stacey? If she’s in a marriage she’s bored with, or at least that’s sexless no matter how much she may love the guy, and if she likes me and knows I like her, plus knows that I might be her last chance for any kind of “romantic” friendship, would she really pass that up?

Well, Stacey, I’m still going to be your Valentine’s Day phone call in a little over three months from now.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2016 I don’t get it. Everybody complains that Trump hates women, hates gays, hates blacks, hates Hispanics and hates Muslims. Yet they go and vote for him??? WTF? By 6:30 PM PT, it was obvious Trump would win.

I’m both surprised and not surprised. I’m surprised because I thought we were more politically correct than sexist. But then I’m not surprised because I never thought I would see a woman president in my lifetime. Poor Hillary, though. It’s got to be a bit embarrassing to know that your whorebag husband could win but you couldn’t.

Even though all politicians are pretty much the same and they all have their good and bad points, I am disappointed. On the bright side, the president doesn’t have as much power as many people believe they do. Even I know this and I know very little about politics because it simply never interested me. The only real control he has is over the military. In a sense, his presidency will affect those in other countries more than it will affect us. This can be a good thing when it comes to Muslims. That’s the one thing I agree with him on, and I don’t care who the hell I piss off in saying so. I have just as much right to my beliefs and opinions as you do, and I promised myself years ago I wouldn’t choke back in the name of political correctness, not that we’re very politically correct tonight.

Either way, we definitely have to toughen up on not only letting foreigners in general come and go and hog up our resources by taking what’s ours, but especially with potentially dangerous groups of people. Sorry, but it isn’t a small percentage of Muslims that are running around with machetes ready to kill the first person who isn’t a carbon copy of themselves, and this isn’t a belief, but a fact. It’s not just a few hundred either. It’s not even a few thousand. We’re talking millions. That’s just the way their culture is… you treat women and children like shit and you slaughter those that are different. It’s a socially accepted norm within their everyday way of living. Well, I don’t want that shit brought over here. You want to cut your neighbor’s head off for being Christian, do it on your own damn turf.

I can’t even go more than a few days without seeing some headline about some Muslim somewhere being caught with explosives, or bombing this place or bombing that place. How many more innocent people need to die before someone does something to at least cut down the number of senseless murders?

Still, I really had hoped that Hillary would win, and a big part of me actually thought she would despite sensing that I would never see a woman president in my lifetime, because for every one complaint I would hear about her, I would hear dozens about Trump. But we do live in a country where women love men and men just adore each other as well. The best we can hope for is an assassination, but would Pence really be any better? Honestly, I never could get people like these guys. If they hate women that much then why aren’t they with men?

Had to laugh when Tom said Hillary would win Florida. I knew Trump would win because of the older population there, and they tend to favor him more than the younger people.

“It depends on how the Puerto Ricans vote,” he said, “and Trump says they’re all bad.”

Yeah, and I say Puerto Ricans are dumb. They would vote for someone that hates them.

I’m back to not sleeping well and therefore I’m a little tired when I’m awake, but since I received my circadian light today, maybe it will help. I have my doubts, but then I never would have thought that Stacy’s emotional tapping or EMDR would help as much as it has either. Even if it helps for just a week or two at a time, that will make getting to appointments, going on vacation, and things like that a lot easier to deal with.

My Childhood:

Born and raised in Massachusetts in a bedroom town that wasn’t rich but was very comfortable. My parents had me when they were 32 and 33 years old, which was considered a bit old to be having kids back in 1965. My sister Tammy was 8 years older and my brother Larry was 12 years older.

The house we lived in when I was born was next to my maternal grandparents. We spent our summers in a small cottage at a Connecticut beach and moved to the older section of town when I was around 12.

My health issues consisted mainly of asthma, allergies, and a deformed ear in which my ear canal was also fused shut. Had surgery in Boston to build an outer ear through plastic surgery, but ended up with something that looked worse than what I started with.

My Teens:

Having an abusive mother with an enabling father who chose to look the other way, I developed emotional issues that left me insecure and eventually to attempt suicide.

As a child with ADHD, I didn’t always do well in school or get along well with others. I ended up in an adolescent psychiatric hospital in Vermont for 5 months which my mother promised me I would come out of as a “whole new person,” and then I attended an alternative school in the city.

In April of 1982, my parents gave me up to the state. I went through a couple of foster homes, one with a loving Italian couple and another with a neglectful black woman, before a quick trip to the state funny farm and then a private girls’ school for two years, which I hated. I did, however, become close with a few students and staffers which I’m in touch with today on Facebook.

My 20s:

Got my first apartment in the city the day before I turned 20 in 1985. At the time I was working as a housekeeper at a hotel just below the state line. I soon lost my job and went on disability.

I became a very liberal person who had both boyfriends and girlfriends. Nothing was a “sin” to me so long as the people were of age and consenting.

I had two apartments in Springfield, MA, one in South Deerfield, MA, and then I spent four months and the projects in Norwich, CT.

Had a nervous breakdown mostly due to the noise that put stress on me and prevented me from sleeping, then I finally gave up on the East altogether. I moved to Phoenix Arizona in 1992 where a longtime friend and gay guy lived that I’m no longer friends with.

For a while, I was an exotic dancer, and my husband Tom was my neighbor in one of the four apartments I would have in Phoenix before I moved into his house with him. We married in 1994. We lived in Phoenix from 1993-1999. We went through four different neighbors next door while we were there, each one progressively worse.

My 30s

In 1996 I had surgery to remove what was left of my outer left ear and to create an ear canal. I’ve had intermittent earaches because of it for the last 12 years, but surgery was necessary to rule out a tumor once I began to experience sensitivity within the ear.

In 1997 I quit smoking and in 1999 we bought a 10-acre ranch in rural Maricopa and lived there for five years.

We traded in Arizona for Oregon in 2004 after purchasing a 2.5-acre parcel of land. Our plans to build a dome house quickly fell through due to the expenses which added up fast, prompting us to rent first a duplex and then a small, old rundown house in the town of Klamath Falls.

I hated the cold and the snow, but my husband eventually got a good-paying job and we had a lot of fun shopping and winning things. I would enter tons of sweeps and contests and would win something every few days back then, from little prizes to big prizes, before the competition grew fierce with the onslaught of social media.

My 40s

We moved to NorCal in 2007. The recession damn near killed us. We spent the first eight months in motels, then rented a dumpy old trailer out in the country for five years. My husband was on unemployment for 2.5 years, and I’m not able to work mostly due to circadian rhythm disorder.

In the fall of 2011, he was finally given a good-paying job and it was all uphill from there. In the summer of 2013, we bought a two-bedroom house in a gated adult community. It’s a little noisier than I’d like, but we love having something that’s not so old and all the extra space.

In January 2014 we took a wonderful trip to Maui with travel credit I won right after I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s disease and told I had high cholesterol.

July 9th of that year and one day shy of our 1-year anniversary in this house, I called the paramedics in a panic because I thought I was having a heart attack and suspected my thyroid medication was connected to it somehow. It was absolutely terrifying and I believed I would die that day. It wasn’t a heart attack, however, just extreme anxiety unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

My 50s

The incident with my thyroid medication traumatized me so deeply that I was compelled to switch medical groups (though we also switched for other reasons) and I began to see a therapist. I suffered on and off for a year and a half. Tachycardia, along with perimenopause, was a factor in what happened. They all fueled each other in a bad way.

In late January we flew from California to Fort Lauderdale, Florida and then went on a cruise to Cozumel, Mexico. The cruise ended up being a nightmare, but reuniting with the sister I hadn’t seen in 25 years back in Florida, along with seeing two of my nieces since they were babies, was a wonderful experience.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2016 It’s been almost a year without Andy in my life and I can’t say I miss him. This doesn’t mean I hate him or wish bad things upon him or that I think he’s a bad person. We definitely had our share of fun, funny and interesting moments. I’ll always giggle when certain things come to mind, and if he suddenly showed up homeless on my doorstep, of course I wouldn’t have the heart to turn him away.

We just simply grew to be way too different over the years. His ignorance, arrogance and stupidity really got to me. Normally I don’t give a shit who might have these little false truths in mind that they believed about me, as there is a difference between a belief in fact, but aren’t our friends supposed to be able to take us for face value?

Did he know me better than most people? Absolutely. But sometimes we’re wrong about the people we know well, and we don’t know every single thing there is to know about them. People change and you can’t always assume they’re going to handle something a certain way based on their past actions. I mean, when he was a kid in school he ignored bullies. Today he’d fight back. Now if something like watching TV got in the way of my writing then I might very well reconsider watching TV.

I just got so tired of being judged and compared to others as well as himself constantly. If I disagreed with him it was because I was “being just like my mother,” rather than an individual who simply happened not to agree with him.

If he was jealous of someone who was young and skinny, then it was automatically assumed that I was too, and that there was no way anybody else was going to be comfortable with who/what they were, even if they knew they weren’t perfect, as long as he wasn’t comfortable with his own self. Everybody was expected to have the same insecurities he had. That’s just the way he was. He didn’t seem to care if others could relate to his positive traits and experiences, but any negative ones were automatically assumed to be mutual. Like he got off on the idea of others being miserable right along with him, not that he was always miserable. But he seemed to be down in some way a lot of the time.

I also didn’t care for his two-wrongs-make-a-right attitude. “It’s about time whites got to feel how blacks once felt,” he once said.

I remember shaking my head sadly, embarrassed for him, the day he said this. Did he ever listen to himself? Did he ever hear the stupidity and senselessness in many of his words? You might as well tell every woman who hasn’t been raped that it’s about time she finds out what those who have been raped feel like, right?

It was weird, though, because he could be as compassionate as he was lacking in empathy. He bought coats for the homeless, and he sent me cheesecake when I was going through the side effects in conjunction with the perimenopause… but Robin Williams threw it all away just for shits and giggles?

Now let’s talk about the selfishness – yes he did apologize for not even making it out of the parking lot of the train station when we picked him up yet already he’d mentioned God, and yes he did apologize for being stingy with the gum after we spent enough money on him – but why was it that I was always quick to ask him how his doctors appointments when more often than not he wouldn’t ask me shit? He would eventually read about it in my journals, but was that really the same thing? Especially if you’re going to read about an appointment 6 months after the fact?

The hypocrisy was like OMG at times. How can you pat yourself on the back for being what you believe is unique, but then you seem to want to go out of your way to fit into the so-called norms? In one breath he would bash those that bash blacks and gays, but then he would turn around and judge my husband who never did a damn thing to him in his life. He would judge his lifestyle and preferred way of living, despite the fact that it works just fine for him and he’s happy. AND Andy’s the same loner he is. The only difference is that with Tom it’s by choice. With Andy, it’s because he can’t make friends or keep them for very long when he does.

He once said that when we were younger, other gays didn’t like us. In hindsight, I can see that that’s only half true. I can’t speak for him, but for me, the issue was more that back then I was just so damn picky than that there was nobody that wanted me. These days, however, I’m not solely attracted to ultra-feminine women. I’ve actually come to like them in the middle and I’ve actually preferred that since around the new millennium. I realize that a lot of women that were interested in me back in the pre-Tom days that I wasn’t attracted to; I would now probably consider them attractive or at least acceptable. Honestly, I doubt I would be attracted to Stacey 20 years ago. These days she’s totally my type. The only thing she doesn’t have that I normally go for is height. She’s a brilliant psychologist with a brilliant and compassionate mind. She has a great body, warm brown eyes and a sexy smile, though I can see where most people may consider her face rather average-looking. And her shoulder-length brown hair.

I appreciate that he apologized for some of the judgmental, cruel and false things he said about both myself and my husband. But no matter how sincerely we may apologize that doesn’t take back, erase or undo what was said and the hurt that was caused by those words. People may forgive but they don’t forget. Not until selective amnesia is a real possibility.

As for his constant forgetfulness and being slow to grasp some things, I think that was for a variety of reasons. I understand that the pot damaged brain cells along the way. I get that. And he may not be the brightest person on earth naturally, but he wasn’t the dumbest either and I think that he would sometimes play dumb/slow just to mess with and frustrate people. Again, I know we can’t always judge people in the present by how they were in the past, but as even he admitted, he sometimes liked to annoy and mindfuck people. The more I would let him know that his constant obsession/chatter with celebrities and food, for example, was annoying, the more he would “happen” to mention these topics. The more I would dislike a particular picture, the more I would see it on his old Ask wall before that site went to hell. The more I would have preferred not to hear about God, the more I would.

I would never want anyone to try to change or control me, but when someone I supposedly care about lets me know something I’m overdoing something and being annoying, I do try to curb it within reason. I get, however, that if you literally are obsessed/addicted to something it’s not easy to choke it back any more than it’s easy to quit smoking. Food, celebrities and young men were what made his world go around, you could say. LOL

Another thing I don’t miss is the blatant lack of sensitivity. His insisting Robin Williams “threw it all away” is not only a sheer display of utter ignorance but also an ultimate display of stupidity. Any idiot with half a brain would have common sense enough to know that no one’s so damn happy that they up and decide to say WTF one day and throw it all away. It’s a mental illness! Various medical conditions, illnesses, injuries and medications can affect anyone emotionally at any time, and if you think you’re invisible and that it’s all a matter of choice, you’re a real fucktard IMO. Seriously, I hope the guy didn’t take the cooking class he once said he considered. That’d not only feed his obsession with food (pardon the pun), but I think a psychology class would be more beneficial to him. In the end, it’s his life and his decision. I’m just sure that most experts would agree that not all suicidal people can be saved just like not all cancer patients can be saved.

As they say, you can’t change people and make them who/what you want them to be, and I wouldn’t want to any more than I would want someone doing that to me. Therefore I am glad I can just avoid these types of idiots instead. We were just too damn different in the end as I said. He’s sure there’s a God and that things happen for a reason and are destined to play out the way they do. I believe there probably isn’t a God and things are just random. There’s just too much diversity in people’s lives. If there were a sense of order and sameness for all of us, then it would seem planned and designed to be that way. But sometimes the innocent baby dies of cancer while the murderer wins the lottery. My sister’s a die-hard fan/believer of God yet she had a heart attack and a million other health issues this year. I’m agnostic and 95% of 2016 has been great. Sorry, but I don’t see the “grand plan” in that. But you know what? It’s ok to disagree. It’s when we go into judgmental, critical, control-freak mode that I have a problem with. Sometimes you’re wrong and sometimes I’m wrong, too. Nobody knows it all.

He once said he prayed for Comcast to be late with a repair job so he’d get something like $20, and they were late and he did get the money. Well, guess what? They were late with us too, we didn’t pray, yet we still got the money, too. Go figure. I still say it comes down to fate and not what we pray for. If prayer actually worked, we could ask for anything we wanted. I just don’t know if there’s something up there deciding on what we get/don’t get, or if it’s happenstance, but I’m leaning with chance based on the random diversity I pointed out in which no obvious pattern is present. So… Life is going to play itself out whether I prefer it to play out a certain way or not. That’s just been my own personal experience and observation.

What it came down to with Andy was not only the things I just mentioned but his negativity as well. I realized that in his mind he was just being honest, and it isn’t that I don’t appreciate the truth, but there’s a time to be honest and there’s a time to just accept and be happy for people. When you focus on nothing but the negative possibilities and aspects of things, people find you both annoying and depressing, almost as if you don’t want them to be happy.

Lastly, the immaturity got frustrating. We’re all young at heart in various ways. I mean look at me with my rainbow teddy bear. But again, too much is too much IMO, and oftentimes I felt like I was talking to a teenager.

So do I want to resume our friendship now that a year has passed? No, I don’t, and I don’t think he does either. I hope not for his sake. But I do wish him the very best.

Later…

Waved hello to Geri as I was out front watering the cactus that we plan to move into a bigger pot. It’s a large clay pot that was left here by the last owners.

We’re planning to finally do the floors next month. I’ve got a design in mind for the kitchen and one in mind for the laundry/bathroom area. Andy was the smarter one when it came to that. Yes, that’s the one thing he definitely got right that we didn’t… leaving only the bedrooms carpeted. Well, I’ll consider this the practice house. The next house will only have carpet in the bedrooms, all the walls will be white so no wall hangings clash with the colored walls, the place will be less busy so it’s less circus-like, and wooden blinds will be in the windows instead of these traditional blinds. Wooden blinds have a stick where you can open and close them in a split-second. With regular blinds, you have to keep winding and winding the stupid wand. Wooden blinds will also be sturdier whereas these are flimsy.

I was so glad to learn that they canceled Oktoberfest on Sunday, which the rain had prevented last month! I’m just amazed because I don’t usually get that lucky. One less thing to have to deal with.

It’s also been surprisingly quiet these last couple of days as far as motorcycles go. Didn’t hear the really loud car stereo tonight, but it might have blasted around when I was under the headphones.

I can’t believe how lucky we got with the new neighbors and how quiet next door has been for over a year now. This is a totally well-deserved compensation for the years we had to put up with one bad neighbor after another who just couldn’t shut up. To this day I have to ask myself… how did I not end up snapping and totally losing it on one of them? Everybody has their breaking point and we can only be pushed so far for so long. I’m just glad we escaped it before I could finally snap, storm over to them in the heat of the moment, and do who knows what.

The people next to the “Twenties” have red and green projection Christmas lights dancing across the front of their place and it looks really cool. Still think it’s way too early for that kind of thing, but that’s just how this country is… instead of waiting till it’s a few weeks away from an event, they start celebrating a few months in advance. It’s silly and annoying but I guess it’s harmless.

I was laughing at a couple of things I read. One said that you’re partly bigoted if you even so much as notice that somebody you may pass in the store or something like that is black. Oh, come on. How can you not notice any more than you can not notice if they’re white? Take Alyssa, for example, who just married black guy. Does anyone who knows her really think she’s unaware of the fact that Donte is black and consider her part racist? So… sorry but I gotta disagree with this one.

Then there’s the issue of what’s judgmental and what’s not. It’s human nature to form opinions on various things the instant we hear and see things throughout life. We do it subconsciously without even realizing it. It’s like that saying… opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got them. So I don’t think it makes us judgmental in a bad way because we may mentally decide that the woman at the bank wore a very pretty shirt while the guy down the street painted his house an ugly color. I think we only become judgmental in a bad way when we criticize others for being who/what they are and trying to force them to conform to what we think is right.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2016 Last night’s plans of enjoying the night away and into the wee hours of the morning turned into a long, luxurious sleep. It felt so good, too. Not sure why I tired down so early, but I must’ve slept longer than I have in ages. Like 10-11 hours. Didn’t sleep with my Fitbit on, so I don’t know the exact time.

Sarah’s health took a turn for the better and she’s now home. Good for her!

I was very active yesterday and this caused the muscle injury I’ve had for a few weeks now to flare back up. The one in my very lower left gut where the stomach meets the pubes. So I’ll limit what types of exercises I do for the next week to hopefully finally get rid of it for good. I’m like, come on, heal already!

After we returned from walking and running my heart fluttered more than usual. Like maybe a dozen palpitations instead of just a few. It was a little unnerving and might’ve been scary had I been alone. Hope it does this during my stress test next month so they can tell me if it’s harmless or not, though I think it’s pretty safe to say it’s probably harmless. I’m alive, aren’t I? Still, it was weird and I wonder if it should’ve done that or not.

My eyes have been itchy the last few days and the allergy eye drops I usually use for that didn’t help, so I used Tom’s artificial teardrops and that helped a lot.

Has Stacey literally dried up my tears by EMDRing me? LOL, I haven’t shed a tear since, though most of the tears I have shed over the last couple of years have been medically/hormonally induced. I think the last time I cried genuine tears of sadness was when my rat Sugar died. There were also tears of joy when I reunited with my family at the beginning of the year.

My light gray sweatshirt with the cat face arrived yet I was totally swimming in it so I gave it to Tom. It looks good on him.

Last night I dreamed I was walking down a long hallway and I glanced into a small room with an open door. The back wall of the room had a window in which I could see my dad sitting just outside of it on a chaise lounge on an enclosed porch patio of some kind.

I walked into the room to say hello. He was munching on some chips and talking on the phone with Mom. He handed the phone to me and my mother began talking but I don’t remember what she said.

Later…

And the loud car stereo has hit the scene. How can people still be “ok” with these things??? This is like the 6th night in a row this thing has been at it. They stop the music and start it and back and forth. You can tell they’re doing it just to piss people off.

Stepped outside to try to see where it was coming from, and it was right over the wall somewhere. Even a couple of other people came out to try to see what the fuck was up. I could hear the hot water tank door vibrating it was so fucking loud.

Someone’s finally GOT to do something about this shit, but when??? How many more decades is it going to take??? Do we have to wait till they’re loud enough to literally destroy windows and homes before action is finally taken?

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2016 Signing it at a sunny 65° after waking up just in time to hear the first motorcycle of the day tearing around the corner.

I’m worried about Sarah who has been hospitalized. At first I thought it was just a shoulder injury that they mentioned before and that they were just being their usual dramatic selves. But she actually has a bowel infection and the bowel is twisted. It’s fixable, which is nice to know, but it may require surgery to do it. Let’s hope not!

Tammy called and filled me in on what’s going on with everybody. That poor sister of mine is so overwhelmed now with all that’s going on. Wish she’d get the break she deserves! And Sarah, too. I hate to say it, but I’m so glad we never had kids. That’d just be one more (or more than one more) person to have to worry about.

Anyway, they thought she had a stomach bug at first, only she was in pain and not having the runs or any bowel movements at all. So Becky called the ambulance and Tammy shot on over. She was able to beat the ambulance since they were just a few minutes away. They had her on liquids at first, then let her order regular food to see if that would get things going. It didn’t. So they’re not sure what they’re going to do next, but Tammy said she’d keep me posted.

I learned something new about myself while chatting with Tammy. I knew she was 8 and Larry was 12 when they moved from Springfield to Longmeadow, but I thought I wasn’t born until after they moved to Longmeadow. She said nope, I was born when they were still on Willowbrook and how I was in her room, she had to put up with my shit, and she wanted to open the window and toss me out, hahaha.

Also, they found traces of asbestos in one of her lungs, which she suspects could be from the Willowbrook house and maybe the older Longmeadow house. Well, if she’s got traces, I might, too.

So I worry for them and I also worry about my numbers when I hit the labs next month. My TSH would have to float up to around 16 before I could tolerate 88mcgs without the killer anxiety. I hope it stays where it has been, though. It’s usually around 10.

As for my cholesterol… I know it’s going to be high. It’s just a matter of how high.

Said hello to Bob and Virginia yesterday when I saw them sitting outside the front of their place on the way to pick up the mail. She said she liked my purple pants and purple shoes. Damn, that woman has bionic eyes for an oldie to be able to tell my shoe color from where she sat on her patio. I never left the street as we spoke.

The only thing that shoots down the doctor’s jaw joint arthritis theory is that it not only seems worse when I lay on it but like the pain is more toward the surface. It almost feels like it’s in the area where what’s left of the upper part of the ear meets my head. But with the jaw being so close it could be deceptive as far as exact location, and we do lay on our jaw/teeth to a degree. People have had what they thought were earaches that were really toothaches, so who knows for sure?

Couldn’t take the dizziness yesterday when trying to fast so I had one of those nutritional cookies that still taste good but that’s loaded with protein, vitamins and minerals, and I felt MUCH better. By the end of the day, I’d consumed about 1200 calories and was down another half a pound when I got up. So even though I can’t go longer than 3-4 hours without getting dizzy, I still ate less.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2016 Lenore is still checking my blog as religiously as she is.

My new zebra pattern stockings fit well, but the skirt is too tight. It’s too bad too, because the skirt is surprisingly good quality for the price.

My sizzling pink sweatshirt fits perfectly and is also of good quality.

Peyton’s Rainbow dress looks great. Better than the dull outfit she came in.

The Neroli chamomile shower bombs I got smell wonderful, but they don’t last long. You’re supposed to put them in a spot that gets wet but that isn’t in the shower stream. Yet this isn’t very easy to do in the master bathroom’s tiny little phone booth shower stall. Just the water bouncing off of me pretty much hits every spot. That’s the thing I hate most about this house that I otherwise love. You have this 10 x 8 bathroom with this little teeny shower in it.

I slept kind of shitty the last two nights so I’m lightheaded again and may not get much done today other than the laundry. Part of that may be my fault. I got the bright idea to try to fast for the day. If you fast for just a single day here and there it’s supposed to be very beneficial. It boosts the immune system, detoxes the body, and boosts the metabolism. Long-term fasting has negative effects on the other hand.

Hunger pangs are one thing, but head rushes are another. I got up at 8:30 and at 11:15 my head was swimming, so I slammed on a yogurt. I take multivitamins every day which need to be taken with food, but that also has to wait 4 hours after taking my thyroid meds, so at around 1:00, I may have a little something. I just can’t do what I was able to do 30 years ago. Grrr.

Had a dream that Stacey surprised me with two or three letters, but I don’t know if the “letters” were postal letters or emails.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2016 Seriously? Now we’re up to THREE motorcycles on this circle alone where OLD people live?!

And damn the Twenties and their service vehicles and visitors! Argh! I won’t even get into the landscaping, planes and car stereos I heard yesterday as well, though the stereos aren’t in the park.

Anyway, I went to my ENT and was seen in the exam room by a new male nurse. He was very friendly and was also nice enough to use an old-fashioned blood pressure cuff on me. I hate the electronic ones. Ridiculous fear or not, I always worry they’re going to lose their minds and squish me to death. I’d rather rely on a human being than a machine for something like this. So I’m almost normal at 130/80. HR was 97, not surprisingly. Weight = fatty but I have a new plan of attack in mind for that.

The doctor recently married and her name has changed. The instant she stepped into the room and I looked at her face I thought, wow, she’s gained weight. Then my eyes moved downward. She’s pregnant, so that explains it, LOL.

So I told her my ear’s been really achy and I’ve had to oil it every day instead of a few times a week, yet when she looked inside everything looked fine. It didn’t even need to be cleaned of dead skin or anything.

She said the drainage I sometimes feel is probably allergies, and that I should return to my nasal spray. I stopped using it only because it’s not prime allergy time, but then why wait for the sneezing fits to strike, right?

She said she could refer me to other specialists if I’d like but that there was nothing that could be done about the achiness, which she said could be arthritis in my jaw. Hmm… she has a point there. I never thought of that, but it’s true that when it aches it is in the jaw joint area. She also recommended getting a mouth guard from my dentist in case grinding my teeth in my sleep, which I think I might do, is a factor. I don’t see my dentist till March, but I’ll definitely mention it to her. For now, I’ll keep up the daily oiling cuz it has helped as opposed to every few days.

Will return to my ENT in May. She still wants to keep up on it every 6 months, which makes me feel better as well.

Now I have to decide whether or not to carry on with NaNoWriMo, and maybe I’ll do some highlights on some old stuff, too. It just may be a few days before it’s posted.

Last night I had dreams about being stuck in Oregon with no way to contact Tom to tell him where I was and have him come and get me.

Then I had a ridiculously silly dream where next door’s house was even closer than it really is, and instead of their garage window facing our bedroom windows, there was a bathroom window instead. Tom was going to do something to their window late at night to keep their light from shining into our bedroom. Only problem was that there was a thorny rosebush he would have to work around in the dream. In reality, we have blackout shades/curtains. Works great. :)

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2016 Had a nice half-hour walk in the fog this morning. Yesterday I met with Dr. S for the second and probably the last time. This is because, as I expected, there’s no cure for my type of circadian rhythm disorder and there really isn’t much more he can do for me other than recommend melatonin supplements and a LUX lightbox. Melatonin is only so helpful for so long, so I’m going to try the 10,000 LUX light he recommended I use for the first half-hour of my day to help set my body’s rhythm. I don’t think it’s going to get me on a schedule, but it may help, and since it’s not a medication or anything going into my body, why not? It’s safe. :-) It’s similar to a SAD lamp that people use to fight seasonal depression. I could have used one of those up in Oregon not that I was “depressed.” I was just rather blah, though, and didn’t have much energy.

Come to think of it, though, when we were in the RV on Bly Mountain on the 2.5-acre parcel of land we so briefly owned up in Oregon, I slept alongside a huge window. I would awaken with the sunlight that would stream into it as soon as it rose above the evergreens and junipers. So I wonder… if I lived outdoors as if it were primitive times, would I be on a schedule? Maybe not, since this disorder was discovered in blind people, after all.

I learned from him that there are different types of circadian rhythm disorders. One of them is a delayed circadian rhythm disorder where people can’t help but fall asleep and get up earlier than they like, like 6 PM to 3 AM, for example. There’s a late one too, where people go to bed and get up later than they’d like. Those won’t prevent you from working outside of the house like my kind does.

I told him that I would sometimes use Benadryl to help me sleep, but never cared for how groggy it could make me the next day and how long it would make me sleep. Even though I may wake up at times, I still average eight hours of sleep, so that much is good. He said Benadryl is best to avoid because it can affect cognitive memory. Back when I used to use it more often I had memory issues, but untreated hypothyroidism can cause that as well. My memory has improved tremendously with thyroid treatment.

I’m not even using lorazepam anymore. In fact, I’m almost certainly going to cancel my December appointment with the new shrink. I haven’t had anxiety for the better part of a year now that my medication has been regulated, so there’s no point in seeing him.

The sleep doc said that those who end up with Hashimoto’s usually start off with hyperthyroidism, and even though they never tested me for some reason back then, both Tom and I would be willing to bet that I did indeed have hyperthyroidism 20 years ago. I’ve always been a rather animated person, but I was WAY more hyper than I was now and my heart raced more often back then, too. It will get racy if I stop my meds, though, because as O pointed out, your heart can race if you have too little or too much thyroid hormone in you.

I have had palpitations here and there where the heart flutters noticeably hard for about three or four beats. Sometimes it seems to skip a beat or double up on beats, but I can’t say for sure that it is. That’s why I’m having a stress test in December. He said that some palpitations are harmless while others could put you at risk for stroke or heart attack. When we first moved to Cali I had them all the time, but when I checked online I found that more often than not, they’re harmless. Family history says I could have problems later in life, but right now I would be willing to bet that my heart is still just fine. I’m still relatively young, I’m active, I’m not obese, and I eat right most days.

So we have the LUX light, a new hand vacuum, new batteries for the scale, a new felt cube for the rats to nest in, and rat bedding on the way from Amazon since we’ll need it before the next bedding subscription arrives.

He also got some electronic-related stuff and I got some clothes. A black skirt, black zebra patterned pantyhose, a pink sweatshirt, a sweatshirt with the aurora borealis printed on it, and an ash-gray sweatshirt with a cat face.

I also got a rainbow dress for one of my 18-inch dolls and shower bombs. I guess you place the bomb on the shower floor away from the spray and it’s supposed to make your shower smell really good. I got the neroli and chamomile-scented ones.

Yesterday’s traffic and landscaping were totally obnoxious, especially the landscaping. I didn’t hear any motorcycles yesterday, but I have today. Figured I would, too.

Not sure I want to continue on with NaNoWriMo as I just don’t have any exciting ideas. That’s something I can’t really force. I either have a great idea to expand on or I don’t. More than likely I will just edit my last book.

I’m also not sure if I want to continue with my monthly bio project because it is just so much work to go through so many years of journals, pulling out the main highlights, etc. I’ll leave what I have posted so far which is up to mid-1993. I can always decide later on to continue with that if I want to, but if I do, it’s a project that could easily take a year or two.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2016 NaNoWriMo has begun but I haven’t. Yesterday I totally took a day off from life. I wasn’t fatigued; I just didn’t feel like doing much of anything. We all have those days every now and then. I did go out for a walk and I did do some things I usually do, but for the most part, I just sat around, goofed off, and was annoyed with the tech issues going on at Prosebox.

Change always equals tech issues. I understand that people want to keep perfecting and making things better, but sometimes things already are better and they should be left alone. There’s so much change online that it drives me batty at times. Amazon’s changed so much that I can’t even find where I stored my doc files. That’s okay, though, as I can always back things up on other sites. I just wish people would leave a good thing alone and remember that they wouldn’t have gotten users in the first place if they didn’t like the sites just the way they were.

The only popular site that I rarely use is Facebook. Never had an Instagram account either. I can’t do anything on Facebook without it being thrown in my friends’ feeds, and I still say it’s none of their business, as much as I love them unless I want to make it their business. So I rarely “react” or comment on things. Even if I could control who sees my activity as easily as I can control what I see of their activity, there’s nothing for me to really do there. I always hated their games.

Gotta see my sleep specialist today. Even though I’ve only seen him once, I still don’t see how he can help me. There simply is no cure for circadian rhythm disorder. If there is, it’s news to me. I guess I can update whatever he says later on or tomorrow. I mean I probably shouldn’t share anything health-related in public, but it really is no big deal. Oh, it’s a big deal if you’re cursed with having to live with it, but I know how so many people are… if they don’t get it, then it can’t possibly exist or it must be some grand lie/excuse. Well, it’s not my job to educate life’s little ignorants. :-) It’s just my job to live my life the best I can in a way that suits me best.

Didn’t hear any motorcycles yesterday, but as expected, the end of the rain brought out the blowers and somebody’s hammer, along with the usual spattering of car door slamming. So, little distractions but nothing maddening. It was raining in the wee hours of the night, but there’s only a 25% chance of rain during the day today.

I just asked Alexa what the temperature is in Springfield and it’s 26°! ROTFL!!! It’s colder there right now than in Klamath Falls. It’s 55° here right now. Still, I envy those in Florida and Maui right now.

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empathic-seer · 3 years ago

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Sheridan felt a rush of anxiety as Neku stared at her, cheeks quickly darkening as her eyes swiftly flickered away in shyness. Most thought she was outgoing and an extrovert, but really it was just her constantly acting like she wasn't scared when socially interacting with others. It was easy when people talked about themselves, they often took the chance to vent and all she had to do was listen and empathize but being on equal ground with another person before she could redirect to him made her feel vulnerable.

Her eyes rushed back to his as she fought the urge to bite her nails, grip on her other arm tightening behind her back as she hummed in question. The apprehension filling her from him made her swallow. Her face seemed to freeze as she forgot to breathe a moment at the question. She looked around, already trembling a little in fear and dread. She'd hidden it so well for so long. No-one to her knowledge knew that she could see the UG in the RG. It was her turn to stare, it seemed. Would it hurt him to know? To have it brought up again? Was it safe to say it aloud? She never had before.

Her eyes moved to WildKat in longing. She'd never missed the protection the cafe offered more than now. She abruptly realized her eyes were burning and coughed as she tried to get ahold of herself.

"I-I-aha. I d-don't know if I'm allowed to say but- let's move over here. Away from people."

She walked a few steps to lean against WildKat, perhaps in some vague hope the building itself was blessed, but no such luck. She felt nothing but Neku's suspicion and her own dread and fear. She reluctantly looked at him and tried desperately to keep her anxiety in check. She took a deep breath and smiled weakly, voice quiet but audible.

"I've never told anyone before but...I can see the UG. Ever since I was born. Been helping out Players in whatever little ways I can for years, occasionally talking to support Reapers."

It was…surreal to hear the words. She met his eyes briefly to show she was truthful and examined his expression before looking to the floor again.

"I saw you. Saw how you fought for our home and how you changed." Her smile grew bemused for a moment. "...I can also feel others emotions as my own. So I was kinda scared to approach you at first and I couldn't find any Partners given how quickly the Noise had attacked. Luckily your first partner stepped in. I thought you were back safe in the RG with the others after the Long Game so when I suddenly saw you and Beat with Rindo and the others… it scared and reassured me all at once. When the Game changed it didn't matter how much I tried to help. Everyone was eventually erased and helping one team over another meant I was helping another be erased…it was awful. To say the least."

She shook off her darker thoughts, grounding herself through focusing more on Neku's emotions and clutching her necklace as she met his eyes.

"But that's why I kind of freaked out when I saw you. Things have still felt off for me. The UG isn't active and it's got me on edge things will be...bad, again. The first way the Game was run was flawed but at least I understood it. Entry Fees to raise stakes and facilitate change. Partnerships to help show we need relationships. The Erasure was the one thing I hated and still don't understand but at least every Player had a fighting chance. When it changed? There was no fairness in it. I thought there was at first but quickly learned after a few Games there were no other teams winning. I… hope this is enough to make you understand. I didn't eavesdrop if I could help it and I certainly didn't follow you or the others or anything like that, but given I live here it was natural I'd run into you guys. When I saw Beat join again was when I started to pay more attention, since something was obviously up, even more than I realized. I'm always drawn to those involved in the Game subconsciously. Players, and Reapers are always quieter and more peaceful emotion wise compared to the loudness of Shibuya. I...know this is likely a lot to take in. Please, forgive my rambling. I've never told anyone before like I said so this is…it's kind of a lot."

She caught her breath and looked away in shyness, praying she'd done the right thing by being honest and finally confiding in someone about her sight and empathy. Despite never talking with him before, she had to admit she wanted to trust him. She could only hope he felt the same.

He ought to stop coming back here. He knew he wasn’t coming back. Hell, it seemed like most of Shibuya had forgotten about him entirely. He’d learned to like the changes in the city, but this was just too much. It was already hard enough catching up with all that he’d missed these past few years, but with Hanekoma being gone, too, Shibuya felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to feel wrong- not anymore! He’d gone through all of that, fought to save the city all over again, and it still didn’t feel right.

Neku didn’t register the other person in front of him until they made physical contact, blinking in confusion as if he were surprised they didn’t simply phase right through him. Right. He was alive again. He had to start being a little more mindful of his own surroundings.

He opened his mouth to mutter a quick apology as he grabbed his phone from his pocket, but was immediately cut off by an onslaught of words, all too fast for him to process let alone respond to. Something about her dad and Final Fantasy?... Oh. Probably because of his text tone.

“Uh-” Before he could get a full word out she was speaking again, introducing herself in a way that felt... off. It was as if she already knew who he was, despite Neku being sure he’d never seen her before. But she had clearly seen him. Why else would it be a pleasure to meet him? She knew about him.

He frowned to himself, brows furrowing in a confused frustration as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, unchecked. Whoever it was, they could wait a few minutes as he figured this out. Who was this girl? Well, he supposed he knew that much. She’d just introduced herself, after all. Maybe a better question was what was she? She wasn’t a Reaper. She was in the RG, which meant she wasn’t a Player, nor did her vibe feel like that of an ex-Player’s.

Shit, okay, he was just staring at her at this point. Say something, Sakuraba.

“Sorry, hold on- back up a second.” He was just gonna ask. “Do you know me?” She seemed nice enough, but he really didn’t like when people knew him. He especially didn’t like it when people knew him for his exploits in the UG, and call it a hunch, but he had a feeling that that’s exactly what this was about.

#ic; i have a role to play #shibuyacrossed #threads; callbacks #v; post neo #neku; soothing savior #I am SO sorry this took so long oh my gosh #on the bright side i have finally figured out how to trim posts!#so i hope this is good and that you're taking care <3 #just lemme know if anything is off!

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hrina · 4 years ago

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Be Sweet, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M (minors dni!) WORD COUNT: 6k

hey everyone! here's part one of my new enemies-to-lovers series :) this fic will be five parts in total, but i'm only posting the first part on tumblr. you'll be able to read the rest of it on patreon if you wanna sign up!

as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts! enjoy.

~*~

August 27th, 2021

“Who’s opening tomorrow?”

Ella scrubs a wet rag across the table closest to the door. You cast a furtive glance up at her, flipping absentmindedly through the jumble of papers on the counter in front of you. Nick’s messy scrawl catches your eye, and you pause, reading the haphazard comment written at the bottom of the page.

Customer requested a very specific shade of pink trim. See back for details.

You flip the order, scoffing at the Pantone strip taped to the other side. The square labelled Quartz Pink has been singled out, encircled in bright red. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alice and Olly, I think,” you say, shoving the form to the bottom of the pile.

“That’s good,” Ella grunts, returning the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser back to their spots on the table. “And you’ll swing by sometime during the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you say, drumming your fingers over the papers. “I’m gonna help Olly in the back. You know how much he hates dealing with fondant.”

“How could I forget?” Ella rolls her eyes, smiling to herself. You grimace when she tosses the damp cloth in your direction. It lands on the counter with a loud splat! You nudge it away with your elbow, shaking your head.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Ella says.

“I’m lovely,” you reply. She grins.

“Where’s Alex taking you tonight?” you ask, changing the subject. Her eyes light up instantly, and she clasps her hands together against her chest.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, giggling girlishly.

You groan. “I hate surprises.”

“It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend, then, isn’t it?” she retorts. You snicker, and she continues: “He told me we should stop off at home to change, though, so I’m guessing that wherever it is, there’s a dress code.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” She twists her wrist, peeking at her watch. “He should have been here by now. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

“The hospital is just down the street,” you remind her, organising the mountain of orders into a neat stack. “Give him another five minutes.”

She nods. You spin on your heel and push through the door leading to the backroom of the bakery. The large space is split into two sections: on your right, there’s a wall of ovens, and a cluster of metal racks filled with pale, unprocessed dough. On your left, tables and counters lined with all sorts of decorating necessities—piping bags, spatulas, scrapers, turntables. You make your way toward the small cabinet perched against the nearest wall and pull out the top drawer, sliding the orders inside. Olly should have no trouble locating them tomorrow morning.

When you return to the front of the shop, Ella is locked in a passionate embrace with a gangly, dark-haired man. You recognise him immediately.

“Doctor Dao,” you call out, resting your elbows on the counter. “Did you at least wash your hands before putting them all over my best friend?”

Alex and Ella break apart swiftly, but he keeps one arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey, cookie,” he says, flashing you an apologetic grin. “Didn’t see you there.”

You arch one brow, lips curling into an amused smirk. “I’ll say.”

Only then do you catch sight of the other man lingering by the door, and your smile quickly morphs into an irritated frown. Harry is watching you with twinkling eyes, like he knows the effect his presence has on you. How could he not? You don’t try to hide your disdain, especially when it comes to him.

“Harry,” you say curtly, lifting your chin in stubborn acknowledgement.

He brings two fingers to his temple—a mock-salute. “Sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw. God, he makes your blood boil. Rather than responding, you turn back to Alex, who is now smoothing his palms over Ella’s silky brown hair. “You’re late,” you tell him. “You were supposed to be here when we closed.”

“Sorry, cookie,” Alex says, and he sounds like he means it. “My last surgery of the day had a few…complications.”

You purse your lips as the annoyance melts away. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blowing out a heavy breath. He looks tired. “We figured it out.”

“That’s good.”

Alex directs his attention back to Ella, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Cool,” he says. “You don’t mind if we drop Harry off at his place, right? His car is fucked, apparently.”

Ella’s grey eyes widen. She peers over her boyfriend’s shoulder at Harry. “What happened?”

Harry waves away her concerns, chuckling quietly. He tugs on the collar of his blue scrubs, and you can’t stop your gaze from trailing across the plethora of tattoos inked into his arm. Your nose wrinkles at the sight. He looks ridiculous. What kind of doctor would agree to don such outrageous body art?

“He’s being dramatic,” Harry says, shooting Alex a pointed glare. “My car’s at the shop right now, but I’ll have it back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Oh.” Ella relaxes. “Okay, that’s great. Babe—” She turns to Alex. “—when are our reservations?”

“Eight-thirty,” Alex says. “Plenty of time.”

“Awesome,” she chirps. She scurries around the counter and playfully bumps her hip against yours. “My purse is in the back. Give me one second.”

And then she’s gone.

You stare at Alex, fighting a clever smile. “Tonight’s the night, huh?” you murmur, quiet enough so that there’s no chance of Ella overhearing.

He beams, shouldering his knapsack and dragging his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. His scrubs are a light purple, you note. The shade compliments his dark skin.

“Yeah,” he replies, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip. “She’ll say yes, right?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Of course she will.”

Just then, Ella bursts through the door, her leather purse swinging wildly against her waist. “Alright!” She claps once, striding over to you and planting a wet, sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I’m off.”

“Bye,” you say, wiping her saliva from your face with the back of your hand. “Have fun.”

Alex waves at you as she tugs him out of the bakery. “See you later, cookie.”

You wink. “See you.”

Harry is the last one to leave. He glances at you momentarily, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smug smile. The look makes you bristle. He’s absolutely infuriating.

“Got any leftover almond croissants?” he asks. Silent laughter taints every word.

You point to the exit. “Get out.”

He bows his chin in farewell, approaching the door. “Sweetheart.”

“Asshole,” you reply flatly. Now that your friends are out of earshot, you’re under no obligation to tolerate him. Sometimes, you find yourself actually craving his company, just so you can drop the pretence and really give him a piece of your mind. You’re a mature adult, and you won’t ruin a social gathering because of one presumptuous dickhead, but everyone has their limits. You don’t owe him shit.

Harry chuckles to himself, and you clench your fists at your sides. He shoots you one last maddening smirk before disappearing out the door. You rush forward, latching it swiftly and ensuring that the sign against the glass reads ‘CLOSED’. Once you’ve successfully locked up, you march into the back of the shop, plucking your own purse off one of the metal counters and tugging it over your shoulder. You shut the light and return to the front, scanning the clean tables, the empty display cases, the shades drawn over the windows. Shards of the sunset stream through the cracks in the blinds, casting orange stripes along the floor.

All clear, a voice in your head whispers, and you sigh.

Finally—you can go home.

August 28th, 2021

Quick, frantic knocking rouses you from your sleep. Blearily, you sit up on the mattress, knuckling at your puffy eyes. The hardwood floor is cold against the soles of your feet when you climb out of bed. You shiver.

The insistent clamour continues as you pad down the hallway. You tug at the hem of your worn, baggy t-shirt, concealing your midriff. Ella wastes no time after you open the front door, surging past the threshold and vaulting herself into your arms.

“He proposed!” she squeals as the two of you stagger backward. You freeze, remembering Alex’s plans from the day before. His apprehension, too—the way he wiped his clammy palms against his scrubs and anxiously dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Shock ebbs and flows through your veins for a fraction of a second, but then you’re sweeping Ella into a tight hug, rocking your bodies from side to side.

“Oh my God,” you say. Excitement festers beneath the murky exhaustion clouding your mind. “He did it.”

Ella steps back, brows knitting together in bewilderment. “You knew?” When you nod, she scoffs, aiming a half-hearted swat at your bicep. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” you retort, rolling your eyes at the demand. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

A bright grin stretches across her lips, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers keenly. You spy the ring resting on the fourth digit: a simple platinum band topped with a large, clear diamond. Grey morning light bounces off the gemstone, and it winks at you as if it knows something that you don’t.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, gripping Ella’s wrist to bring her hand closer. You scrutinize the ring carefully, smiling to yourself. “He’s got good taste.”

“Doesn’t he?” she gushes, beaming like an idiot. You beckon her into the kitchen, and she collapses onto one of the tall stools positioned in front of the marble island. A quick glance at the digital clock on the stove reveals that it’s only eight in the morning. You groan, rubbing gentle circles against your temples.

“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in today,” you say, lips curling into a wry smirk.

Ella shoots you a sheepish, apologetic smile, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. “I’m sorry, cookie. I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m just kidding,” you tell her, floating around the room to prepare a pot of coffee. “So…how did he do it?”

She launches into a frenzied retelling of the night before. Alex brought her to the same restaurant they’d visited four years ago on their first date. They ordered their food and made conversation. Things proceeded as usual until the end of the meal, at which point Alex set his napkin down on the table and excused himself to the restroom. Two minutes later, the waiter arrived with the bill. Ella accepted it graciously, scanning the thin paper and pausing at the question scrawled at the very bottom of the slip. When she snapped her head up, searching for her boyfriend in the crowded dining area, she found him kneeling a few feet away from her chair, a small velvet box nestled securely in his steady hands.

“I started crying immediately,” she tells you, groaning at the memory. “I couldn’t keep it together. It was so embarrassing.”

You toss your head back and laugh. Despite the crimson blush staining her cheeks, she joins in. The coffeemaker beeps, signalling that the pot is ready. You fetch two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with dark liquid. Ella accepts her drink eagerly, blowing cool air across its surface. You grimace as she takes a tentative sip—you’ve never understood her penchant for unsweetened black coffee. Sugar and cream are a must.

“I’m so happy for you, El,” you tell her, stirring a small spoon around your mug. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Her eyes grow damp. You snicker quietly, reaching across the island and swiping your thumb beneath her bottom lashes. She catches your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, clearing her throat.

“Will you—?” She releases a shuddering breath. “Will you be my maid of honour?”

You stiffen at her request. Her gaze rakes over your face, like she’s searching for any clue as to how you might respond. At last, your shoulders sag in relief, and an ecstatic smile splits across your cheeks.

“Of course,” you say, voice thick. Tears gather in your own eyes, but you blink them back furiously. “I would love nothing more.”

She sets her coffee down and skirts around the counter, yanking you into another bone-crushing hug. You grin as she presses a handful of sloppy kisses to the side of your head. Her elbow knocks against your abandoned mug, and a few drops of coffee spill down the side of the cup. You laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling back and sweeping your hands over her silky hair.

“It’s probably way too soon, but have you guys started discussing anything?” you ask, arching one eyebrow.

Ella flushes pink, averting her gaze. “Um…when we got home, there wasn’t really much of a discussion going on.”

You cackle, poking at her ribs. “Oh, he gave it to you good, didn’t he? It’s a miracle that you’re not limping right now.”

“Be quiet,” she yelps, stamping her eyes shut.

You lift your hands and shoot her a teasing smirk. “I’m not judging, okay? If anything, I’m living vicariously through your various sexual conquests. It’s been months since I last got any action.”

“Maybe that should change,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest. “You and Harry could probably fuck out your frustrations. His dick is huge, apparently.”

You balk. “Ella!”

She shrugs, grey eyes widening comically. “What? Alex told me!”

You snort, but say nothing. She watches you cautiously, examining your features for any signs of acquiescence. Any indication that you might actually be considering her lewd suggestion. You almost gag.

“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” Ella asks, flicking an invisible speck of lint off her shoulder. “You’re not still hung up on that fiasco with the almond croissant, are you?”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you say, and she sighs.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But can you at least try to be civil while we plan the wedding? For my sake.”

After mulling over her words, you slouch in defeat. “Fine. But only for you,” you say, throwing a stern finger in her face.

She beams. “Thank you.” Something dirty flashes behind her pale eyes. “And if you do end up sleeping with him, I want all the details.”

You shove her gently and scoff. She laughs.

“Honestly,” you start, shaking your head, “it doesn’t matter how huge his dick is. I’d rather walk across hot coals than let somebody like him climb into my bed.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?” Ella snickers. You glare at her, but she just steps back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m expecting you to find someone in time for the big day. Don’t let your plus-one go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. “Noted.”

September 2nd, 2021

“Olly!” you call, sticking your head into the backroom. “Ella and I are going on our lunch break, but Leyla will be here in, like, twenty minutes. You going to be okay by yourself until then?”

Olly doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder, too busy piping little flowers along the sides of the rectangular cake laid out in front of him. He lifts one hand, waving away your concerns before running his palm over his short blue hair. He buzzed and dyed it just last week after claiming that he couldn’t stand how the long brown curls stuck to the nape of his neck. It took a few days to get used to the change, but now that the initial shock has faded, you have to admit that he looks great.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Olly says, putting the finishing touches on the cake. He sets his piping bag down and turns toward you, wiping his palms against his red apron. His left ear bears a swirl of shiny silver piercings. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Thanks,” you say, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and then you’re spinning on your heel and letting the door swing shut behind you.

You find Ella waiting outside the bakery. She urges you along, and you squawk at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” you ask, falling into step with her as you both amble down the sidewalk. “We have forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t want Alex’s sandwich to get cold,” she explains, holding up the small paper bag clutched in her right hand. You snort.

The two of you make it to Ridgefield Hospital in record time, mostly because Ella grips your arm and gives it a forceful tug whenever you start lagging behind. You walk through the automatic doors, ignoring the row of ambulances parked outside. The secretaries sitting at the front desk shoot you a few distracted smiles—they’ve all grown accustomed to your frequent visits by now.

Ella babbles endlessly as you enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor and waiting as the metal doors slide shut.

“I want to ask Alice and Leyla to be part of the bridal party, but I’m scared the guys will feel bad if Alex doesn’t choose them as his groomsmen. Like, I think they’d understand, considering I work with the girls and we’re all pretty close, but I don’t know.” She nudges you with her elbow. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever the fuck you want,” you tell her, shrugging. “It’s your wedding. And I don’t think Olly, Marcus, or Nick will mind if they’re not part of the bridal party. Olly doesn’t care about that stuff, and Marcus and Nick already have their hands full with their jobs at the bakery. Plus, they know Alex has his own friends—not just the ones he’s met through you.”

Ella nibbles on her bottom lip, her head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lay a placid hand on her shoulder. “You’re already overthinking this. You’ve only been engaged for a week. Enjoy it.”

She shoots you a grateful smile just as the elevator dings and the doors glide open, and the two of you step out onto the hospital’s paediatric floor. It’s a stark contrast to the other sections of the building. Instead of barren white walls, these ones are painted with all sorts of pretty, colourful decorations—flowers, rainbows, sunsets, animals. A massive sign in front of you denotes the different divisions on the floor and where to find them: the ICU, the operating rooms, the palliative unit, the psychiatry wing, and the oncology department. You and Ella turn right, making the familiar trek to Alex’s office.

“He should be on his lunch break, too,” she says. “Unless they paged him for another emergency surgery.”

You hum in response.

Sure enough, you find Alex at his desk, twirling a blue pen between his fingers as he pores over the stack of papers in front of him. Ella knocks gently against the open door, and his face lights up when he spies her standing in the threshold. He moves quickly, crossing the room in five long strides, and plants a searing kiss onto her lips. You look away, rocking awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs after he and Ella break apart. That’s when he notices you behind her. “Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” you reply. You toss your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to—you know, the usual.”

He nods.

The last thing you see before you turn around is Ella holding up the brown paper bag, and Alex’s face splitting into a bright, easy smile.

You meander through the halls, trailing your fingers over the rich artwork covering the walls. The end of the corridor cleaves in two; you turn left and enter a large atrium. The ceiling is high and peppered with skylights. A small cafeteria sits off to the side, clusters of families chatting and laughing together as they eat. Children sprint around the space, their arms outstretched. Some of them are dressed in normal clothes—others don pale hospital gowns, their skinny legs bared for all to see. You wrench your attention away from them, fixing it instead on the far wall.

Slowly, you cross the room, surveying the vibrant handprints stamped against the plaster. There has to be hundreds of them, you think. They vary in size—some are so tiny you could cry. Colour becomes scarcer the higher you go—the youngest children are too short to reach those levels, obviously—but still. The sight takes your breath away. You visit this mural every time you find yourself at the hospital, and every time, you unearth a new detail that you hadn’t noticed before.

You walk along the length of the wall, dragging your fingertips across the dry, smooth paint. Purples and pinks and oranges and blues. Reds, greens, yellows, browns. Each handprint is a person—a pair of little feet that scuffled over this very floor, a blank story that had yet to unfold. Briefly, you wonder how many survived whatever illnesses plagued them, and how many succumbed to their conditions. The thought makes your throat grow tight with emotion, so you quickly shove it aside.

Ten minutes pass before you’re leaving the mural behind and heading back the way you came. You’ve just rounded the corner when a strong, solid body barrels into you. You grunt at the impact, smacking one palm against the wall to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, lifting your head to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I wasn’t paying—oh.”

Harry smirks, his green eyes glittering with mirth once he recognises you. You purse your lips, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Harry,” you say, nodding stiffly.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart.”

His brown hair is tousled, and his biceps strain against the white button-up adorning his torso. Black slacks cover his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of pristine leather shoes, ones that look like they might’ve cost a month’s worth of rent. Your teeth grate together noisily. The sound echoes in your ears.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, as though the two of you are old friends. You want to scoff—you’d rather stick your hand in an oven than make idle conversation with him.

“Visiting Alex,” you say tightly, stepping back. “Ella brought him lunch.”

At that, Harry straightens. “Ella’s here?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I’d run into her,” he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You throw him a scowl. “Asshole.”

Harry cocks one eyebrow, tilting his chin haughtily. “Forgive me if I prefer her company to yours. At least she doesn’t treat me like I’m some insufferable bastard.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable bastard, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” you shoot back, planting your hands on your hips. You tense as Harry’s gaze rakes down your body—head to toe, like he’s sizing up an opponent. His nose wrinkles in disdain, and you fight the urge to deliver a sharp, backhanded slap across that pretty, perfect face.

Harry opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for whatever retort he has prepared. What comes out is nothing overtly nasty, but it is enough to make you want to shrink away and curl into yourself until you wink out of existence.

“You smell like yeast,” he says, and tosses in a derisive sniff just for the added effect.

You recoil as the words slam into you, blinking in shock.

Asshole. Rude, arrogant, condescending asshole.

“I own a bakery,” you grit out. Harry shrugs, but says nothing else. Your lips flap wordlessly as he pushes past you, his shoulder bumping against yours. You watch him go, massaging the tender spot on your arm with shaky fingers. Your eyes fall to his ass for only a moment before skittering away, and a hollow laugh catches in your throat.

What a fucking prick.

September 17th, 2021

“Attention, everyone!” Ella stands at the head of the table, clinking her fork delicately against her glass. “I wanted to make a little toast.”

The conversation around you tapers off into silence. You sit back in your chair, focussing on your best friend. She looks splendid in her pretty blue dress, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She peers around the room, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. When her gaze locks with yours, you grant her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She beams, her next words imbued with renewed enthusiasm. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement with us.” She holds out her hand, and Alex presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We’re so grateful to be sharing this milestone with such a wonderful group of people.”

You inspect the other guests gathered around the table. To your right sit Alice and Leyla, the first employees you hired when you were trying to get your business up off the ground. It’s odd seeing them like this—poised and elegant, looking nothing at all like they do during the long, arduous shifts at the bakery. Alice’s blond hair has been fashioned into an intricate braid, and Leyla’s brown eyes are lined with dark kohl and smoky eyeshadow. They clean up nice, you must admit.

Next to Leyla: Ella’s older sister, Hillary. They have the same piercing grey eyes, though Hillary’s hair is a shade lighter. You didn’t miss the sour expression that trundled across her face when you waltzed into Alex and Ella’s condo. She’s jealous, you think. Jealous that Ella chose you as her maid of honour instead of her. You’ve been ignoring her resentful glares for the better half of the night, letting her bitterness pass over you like a cloud. Whatever her problem is, it’s clear that the issue lies between her and her sister. You’re not getting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t help that she’s been fawning over Harry all evening. Upon witnessing her coquettish behaviour, you glanced at Ella, brows raised, but your best friend just rolled her eyes and yielded a helpless shrug of her shoulders. At least the attraction didn’t appear to be one-sided—that would have been humiliating, you think—because Harry gave as good as he got, chuckling sincerely and flirting right back. You had to suppress the urge to retch, and sent out a quiet prayer of gratitude when Ella and Alex sat them as far away from each other as possible at the beginning of the meal.

On the opposite side of the table: Alex’s groomsmen—Milo, Sasha, and Connor. You’ve been in their company a few times, mainly on birthdays and other special occasions. According to Alex, they all met when Milo accidentally vomited during their very first anatomy lesson at medical school. Milo insists that the putrid smell of the cadavers was simply too awful to bear, but everyone else claims that he just couldn’t stand the idea of being so close to a dead body. No matter the truth, the story always makes you giggle. The four of them have been good friends ever since.

The five of them, you remind yourself as your gaze settles on Harry, who is lounging in the chair directly across from you.

Harry—Alex’s best friend. Harry—Alex’s best man.

You wanted to rip your hair from your scalp when Ella broke the news. Several images flashed through your head all at once. You and Harry inching rigidly down the aisle, arms linked. You and Harry donning the same colours, your gown complimenting the spry flower pinned to the lapel of his suit. You and Harry flanking Ella and Alex while they recite their vows, glaring daggers at each other behind your friends’ backs. Even now, the mere thought of it has you biting down on an exasperated groan.

You don’t realise that you’ve zoned out until the faint quirk of Harry’s mouth catches your eye. You blink once to yank yourself from your daze, and clench your jaw when you find him staring at you with an amused look on his face. He places his elbows against the arms of the chair and clasps his hands together. Unmistakable smugness emanates from him, as if he somehow managed to crawl inside your mind and saw exactly what you were envisioning. Your nostrils flare, and you fix your attention back on Ella, who has reached the end of her speech.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass. The champagne inside sloshes and fizzles temptingly. Would she allow you to chug the entire bottle, if you asked?

Everyone around the table mirrors her movements, raising their own drinks and touching them together lightly. Quiet, delicate clanking fills the room, and the friendly chatter resumes. You nudge Ella with your elbow, shooting her a proud smile. “That was great, El.”

She beams. “Thanks, cookie.” She then picks up her fork and motions to the plate in front of her, piled high with seasoned chicken and steaming, roasted vegetables. “Let’s eat.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alex asks Sasha, gesturing to the very inebriated Connor wobbling at his side.

Sasha wraps one arm around their friend, letting Connor rest his full weight against him. He bares two rows of perfect ivory teeth, flashing a wicked grin. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to pay him back for the shit he pulled at the barbecue last month. There’s a Sharpie in my car.”

“You’re going to draw a dick on his face, aren’t you?” Alex muses.

“Obviously.”

With that, Alex bids them both farewell, shutting the door and heaving a dramatic sigh. Ella approaches him after a moment, hooking her chin over his shoulder and murmuring something indiscernible into his ear. He chuckles softly.

“Didn’t peg you as the voyeur type, sweetheart,” a low voice says from behind you.

You jump, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Harry. He’s got a green washcloth slung over his left shoulder—the shade brings out his eyes, a traitorous voice in your head whispers—and his arms are folded neatly across his chest. Your gaze falls to the collar of his black button-up, where he’s undone the first two discs, leaving his sternum exposed. Tendrils of ink peek out from beneath the dark material.

You frown and take a step back, putting distance between your bodies. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” His lips twitch, and he rolls up his sleeves. “Now, if you’re done ogling them like a lovestruck puppy, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

You grit your teeth, but follow him into the other room. Harry grabs the rag hanging over his shoulder and holds it out for you. You snatch it from his fingers without a word, and the two of you take up residence in front of the sink. Harry plunges his hands into the soapy water, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before passing them to you. You stand as far away from him as possible while you dry each plate, your movements stiff and choppy. This is not how you wanted to finish off the night, but Alex and Ella spent the entire day preparing the food, and it was delicious. The least you can do is spare them the hassle of tidying up.

The tense silence eats at you, until you feel like you might explode. Unable to bear it any longer, you hastily blurt, “Saw you getting pretty cozy with Hillary before dinner.”

Immediately, you want to kick yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Harry snorts, shrugging coolly. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but it’s nothing serious.” He shoots you a mischievous grin. “You jealous?”

“Of Hillary?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Please. The woman’s standards are practically underground. Why else would she be interested in someone like you?”

Harry scowls, and hot satisfaction surges through your veins. Yes, the taunt was mean, but no, you don’t care. “You’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” he says.

You flash him a petty, insincere smile. “Only to you.”

He squeezes the yellow sponge nestled in his right hand, scrubbing it forcefully across a dirty plate. “Maybe you should find someone to hook up with. It might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“I have better things to do,” you sneer, narrowing your eyes.

“Better than sex?” He chokes on a derisive laugh.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like…things!” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists. “I run my own business, for God’s sake. And I’m going to make Ella’s wedding cake.” You announce the last part proudly, hauling your chin into the air.

Harry, however, looks unimpressed. He shakes his head, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Uh-oh.”

You pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again, but you detect a hint of malice behind the action. “It’s just…I’ve seen the way you decorate cakes. Ella might be better off going elsewhere—you know, to an actual professional.”

Son of a—

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you say, motioning to the mismatched tattoos littered across his arm. “What would you know about professionalism? It looks like you let a preschooler doodle all over you.”

Harry bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Deflection. I’m not surprised.”

You bristle at his words. “Asshole.”

“You’ll need to get a bit more creative with the insults, sweetheart. I’m growing bored.”

“Is that so?” you say. “I think ‘asshole’ suits you just fine. Maybe you should have become a proctologist instead of a paediatrician.”

“At least I pursued something I was good at. I’m not sure if you can say the same.”

“You fucking—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ella asks, floating into the kitchen. You spin around to conceal your anger, placing your hands against the counter and inhaling deeply. You roll your shoulders back and slap an artificial smile onto your face before turning once more.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, and fake a yawn, covering your mouth with your palm. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

Ella’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. Her red lipstick has faded, leaving only a stain of scarlet in its wake. On cue, Alex walks into the kitchen behind her, setting a steady hand on her hip and cocking his head to the side. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

You nearly snort. Fucking soulmates.

“All good,” you tell him, nodding brusquely. “I’m just going to finish up with the dishes and head home.”

“Okay.” Alex presses a soft kiss to Ella’s temple, murmuring something about needing to get out of his stuffy clothes. You whirl, drying the last of the plates with frantic, shaky fingers. In your peripheral vision, you spy Harry watching you, but the stupid bastard must possess some scrap of self-preservation, because he keeps his mouth shut. You say nothing else as you whack the rag down onto the counter and stride out of the room.

You don’t miss Alex and Ella’s hushed whispers at the other end of the hall, but a little voice in your head tells you not to interrupt them. You halt at the front door, snatching your purse off one of the metal hooks mounted on the wall. You’re in the middle of putting on your shoes when you hear it:

“I was hoping we could arrange a truce, you know.”

You twist around, palm flying to your chest. Harry is standing a few feet away, his hands still wet with the water from the sink. He clasps them together and ducks his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was ashamed.

Something vile bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You gnaw on the flesh of your cheek, trying to reel your emotions back in. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another outburst.

“Keep your fucking truce,” you spit, and wrench open the door. You shoot him one last withering look before stepping out of the condo and slamming it shut.

#be sweet #harry writing #lmao you can tell i've given up on posting my writing on tumblr cus i don't even tag it with the typical fic tags anymore 😭

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are weird: Assassins

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

The soft light of the morning dawn slowly filtered into the room through cracks between the lavish curtains. Streaks of light bounded off the polished gold detailing of the rooms furniture and made the room appear as if the very stars themselves had come to adorn themselves upon the walls. So bright were the reflections that it managed to find their way underneath several layers of bed sheets and directly into the face of ambassador Glifin.

Roused from his seemingly peaceful sleep Glifin slowly pushed off the sheets one by one and rolled to his feet. The loud thuds of his hooves touching the floor sent a shudder through the room as he stood and stretched out, his general grogginess slowly shaking off. With a loud yawn finally leaving his throat he rose and shambled over to his desk to begin his day’s work.

Tonight he was hosting a party honoring visiting royalty from his home world on Argon. The prince had decided he wanted to visit this miserable planet he had been stationed on, though why anyone would want to visit this world was beyond him.

Glifin’s posting on the human homeworld had been sold to him as a great honor but in reality it had been a means to keep him from continuing his political rise. On Argon he had been a senator whose mere whisper was enough to make generals and minor nobles quiver in fear. His star struck ascension didn’t go unnoticed however and just before he was to be elected into the office of Artock Supreme and reside over the entire senate the royal family had stepped in and given him the position of ambassador to humanity.

Within the spam of a solar month he was shipped off the throne world and sent to this backwater dump of a world; were he had to smile and feign sincerity to these miserable sacks of flesh all the while his political powerbase slowly began to crumble in the senate.

Now fully consumed by feelings of dread over his situation Glifin did not hear the sudden knock at the door. Only after several more knocks did Glifin look up from his paper work.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened and Glifin’s aide Jafal walked in and bowed.

“My apologies for disturbing you at this early hour, but Mr. Robinson has arrived with your evening wear for tonight’s event.”

Glifin nodded and shuffled his papers back into his desk and locked it just as a new figure entered the room.

“Say what you want about Argonian fashion, but they do have such a wonderful sense of aesthetics when it comes to room decoration.”

A slim human emerged from the doorway pushing a small cart with a metal rod built in holding up two clothing bags.

“You have a problem with Argonian styles?” Glifin said as he rose to his feet and walked over to Robinson as he pulled out a tiny box device and casually threw it down on the floor. The moment of contact it sprung open and in an instance a large set of mirrors emerged from it giving an impressive view from all sides.

“Oh far be it for me to question ones culture, “ Robinson continued as he opened the first bag and stepped aside for Glifin to see the contents, “but some would consider the amount of dead mammals your people adorn on themselves to be a tad morbid.”

From the corner of his eye Glifin saw Jafal’s face redden from anger but with a motion from his ambassador kept his tongue still.

“I would find it surprising for a human to find anything morbid with the amount of toxins you willingly consume.”

Robinson flashed a brief smile and shrugged. “You do have me there; personally caffeine will most likely be the end of me one day, but we’re not here to talk about my eventual demise.”

“An end that will come much sooner if you continue to waste my time with idle chatter.”

Humanities incessant need for small talk and idle conversation was something Glifin had never come to terms with; and this human fashion designer was by far the worst example he had ever put up with. Part of him viewed it as a challenge to see how long he could endure before snapping the tiny man’s neck, and though such a moment would no doubt bring him great pleasure the other part of him realized that Robinsons work was well regarded among prominent members of society. Not just with other humans, but with other alien dignitaries who had embassies on the human homeworld. It had been surprisingly an ambassador from the Hive that had recommended the human’s services when it was suggested that Glifin update his style to match his new role.

Walking up to the first black bag that Robinson had opened Glifin inspected the wardrobe.

Inside was a finely trimmed suit of Rygonian Leaper fur of a dark blue with a sash of Haponi tongue and a dashing pair of pants metal grey Roller Worm hide.

It was custom in Argonian culture to wear the skin of that which you have killed, thus the outfit before him was a prime example Glifin’s traditions.

“A fine work indeed,” Glifin said as he ran his fingers across the material, feeling the roughness against his skin. “For a human” he finished as he turned and smirked at Robinson.

“With the effort it took to obtain the materials you requested I would say it is nothing less than an example a miracle performed before your very eyes.”

Glifin stopped his examination of the attire and looked at the human. “For a miracle you sound so…displeased with your work.”

Robinson crossed his arms for a moment and pouted as if considering his next words.

“My work is perfection, I can assure you, but a man in my trade is not just meant to listen to the specifications of their client but their intention as well.”

“And your point?” Glifin queried.

After a moment he outstretched his hand and casually gestured to the Argonian clothing. “Is this really the message you want to be sending?”

Glifin looked at the suit again then back at Robinson. “I don’t understand.”

“If you go to the event dressed like this it will send the message that you still value your traditions, but I worry that it shows a disconnect with your current situation; almost as if you are attempting to relive the past.”

“You would appear as an old war hero trapped in past glories that the other guests would acknowledge, but not make to engage in conversation.”

Glifin opened to rebuke the human but stopped himself as he pondered the man’s words. Robinson stepped forward to the other black case. “Now this,” Robinson said as he slowly pulled down the zipper revealing the contents, “this would make you not only the talk of the party, but would make you the talk of the after party all the way back to your homeworld were many people would no doubt be very much interested in your on goings.”

“Each piece has been designed by some of the most dangerous animals on this planet, and in some cases far more ravenous then anything back on your respectable homeworld.”

Robinson went about and pointed out the specific materials used one by one.

“The body is made from a powerful species that inhabits the various swamps and wetlands around the globe with jaws so powerful they could cut you in two with a single bite.”

“Each of the buttons along the coat are the fangs of the most poisonous reptilian creatures on the planet; each one capable of killing a human let alone an Argonia ten times over with a single drop of their venom.”

“Now the pants I am particularly proud of as they are the skin of the deadliest hunter of all the planets seas. They can smell fresh blood from miles away and commonly take on prey twice their size.”

Gliffin heard Robinson go through the list of creatures but his expression remained emotionless.

“Why would these creatures be any more interesting than my own worlds?”

Robinson smiled. “Because everyone from your world already knows about them and have hunted the same creatures for generations. Yet I would be so bold as to wager my humble shop that none of them have ever faced down the black eyed stare of a great white shark, nor wrestled the deadly crocodile demons of the swamps, and most certainly have been quick enough to pluck out the teeth of rattle snakes just as they lunge to strike.”

“Neither have I,” Gliffin said with a hint of disgust in his tone, “and you would make a liar out of me for saying so.”

“My dear ambassador, who but you could say what you do or don’t in your free time?”

Robinson leaned forward and whispered into Gliffin’s ear “I am no doubt sure many of your females would find the idea of a striking Argonian such as yourself sneaking off to go hunting the unknown for sport a rather attractive quality.”

Glifin looked at the new set of clothing and then back at the original set of traditional clothes. He went back and forth for several moments before finally settling his gaze on the traditional garments.

“Take these away.”

_______________________________________

The lights outside Robinson’s humble shop slowly went off one by one as he walked between the displays straightening out garments and folding tossed aside pieces customers had casually put aside when the door rang.

“I’m sorry but we are closed for the night.” Robinson said as he returned behind the counter with a stack of clothes.

The figure slowly approached the counter and took off their hat. Robinson looked up from the register to see the figure was a Rohanan; a species known for its gel like appearance yet could collect random bits and bobs to create a sudo skeleton and present themselves as humanoid.

“That’s alright,” the Rohanan said, “I am here to pay for a set I ordered for a….friend.”

“Then they are most fortunate to have a friend such as you then.”

Robinson’s smiling nature unnerved the Rohanan but nonetheless they placed a small envelope on the table and slid it across. Robinson placed a hand on it and tapped his fingers several times against the contents inside before opening it and spilling the credit chips on to the table.

“Is it satisfactory?” the Rohanan said, their nervousness building as the human finished counting the chips.

“Oh yes indeed; I believe you have paid in full for your order.” With a swipe of his hand the human pushed the chips back into the envelope and sealed it. “Always a pleasure to deal with such an honest and upstanding man such as yourself during such troubling times.”

Robinson leaned in towards the Rohanan, his expression shifting from smiling to one of mild concern. “I heard there was a most unfortunate incident up at the Argonian embassy several nights ago.”

“Several guests including the visiting prince and ambassador himself all died from poisoning.” The Rohanan confirmed.

“How gruesome!” Robinson said as he recoiled in shock and finished putting away the remaining clothes while he talked over his shoulder.

The Rohanan regarded the human for a moment before continuing. “The strangest thing was that the poison was not native to this world, but is most common in the Hagar system under Dovorian rule.”

“A most embarrassing situation I am sure considering the Dovorian and Argonian people despise each other.”

“Indeed; one might wonder how such a toxin came into contact with them.”

Robinson shrugged and turned as he finished placing the final shirt back into the display. “With all of those fangs, bones, and animal skins I would not be surprised if someone grabbed a tooth or two that hadn’t been fully drained of its contents.”

The Rohanan laughed and placed their hat back on their head just as they stopped at the door.

“You were worth every penny, assassin.”

“An assassin you say?” Robinson’s smile returned and he casually waved to the departing customer “You must have me mistaken for someone else, as I am but a simple tailor.”

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #story #scifi #assassin

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paisley-print · 3 years ago

Text

10:00pm / Happy Birthday

About: It’s Jack’s Birthday and you planned something special.

Warnings: Marriage problems, infidelity, alcohol.

Rating: 18+

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Note: You wanna see some real speed boy? (Months of not posting and two chapters in less then 24 hours. Whack.)

Series Master List

@scorpionerd @just-here-for-the-moment@sherala007 @jediknight122 @pintsizemama @kenbechillin @elegantduckturtle @hearttbreak @tintinn16 @showbuckysomelove @somenerdyuser @kesskirata @ohyeasam @athalien @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @sheresh0y @voteforpedro09 @greeneyedblondie44 @feel-it-on-the-way-home13

“Hi Jack, it’s....” you glance over at the clock on the stove, checking the time. “It’s ten. I’m calling to see when you’ll be home. Okay, love you, bye.” You played the message back, cringing a little at the way your words slurred together, but sent it, anyway.

You reached over to pour yourself another glass of wine. It was your third one, but you were already feeling the effects. He said he would be home at seven. If you knew he was going to work overtime tonight, you wouldn’t have spent all day rushing around.

Your stomach hurt just thinking about the tray of lasagna and birthday cake you spent hours working on. Still though, you wanted to wait to eat until he got home.

This year had to be better than the last. You doubted whether you could make it through another twelve months of silence. Plus, with the whole Ezra thing, you needed a grand gesture to show that you were willing to work on this. He cared for you; he had said it. He loved you. He would always love you, and although he looked through you as if peering at a specter, you believed him. You hadn’t been the best wife these last few months, so you felt as though you owed him this.

Tonight was just for him, and everything had been prepared perfectly. His favorite movie on the TV, beers in the fridge, birthday gift all wrapped on the nightstand upstairs. Months ago, he mentioned a pair of cuff links his father used to wear while the two of you were combing through old photo albums you had found in the attic. They were square, with yellow gold trim and two crossed six-shooter pistols set into a background of black onyx.

Jack’s father left when Jack was nine, and one of the few happy memories he had was the day his father brought home his first suit for Sunday mass. His father taught him how to make sure his shirt wasn’t creased, how to wear a necktie, comb his hair back with gel, and finally the importance of cuff links.

While looking over the photograph, Jack had mentioned liking the style of the cuff links in passing, but you could see they held quite a bit of emotional value. After that, you had spent weeks tracking down the exact set. With the help of a Reddit board, a few antique shop owners and one generous seller on Etsy, you secured a pair identical to those in the photograph.

Keeping the secret had been tough. You almost let it slip a few times, but you will yourself to go on a little longer. The surprise would be that much more meaningful if you gave it to him on his birthday…. if he ever planned to show up, that is.

As you finished another glass, you stood from the table and walked into the guest bathroom to reapply your lipstick. A few hours ago, your makeup was perfect, but it was now looking smudged. You tried to fix it as best you could while the room around you spun.

You had one of his dress shirts, with thigh-high stockings and a new lilac set of lingerie you bought specifically for this occasion, and heels you took off about three hours ago. You felt so incredibly ugly looking at your reflection, and you weren’t sure why. A few hours ago you were on top of the world, now you were willing yourself not to cry.

Once you were done touching up your lipstick, you grabbed another glass of wine and took a seat on the couch. It was then your phone buzzed, and a number you recognized popped up on the screen.

You picked it up, becoming aware of how fast your heart was beating in your chest. “Hello?”

“Little bird?” Ezra’s voice came floating over the receiver. “Forgive me for calling at this hour, but I was becoming worried about your lack of response to my messages. Noticed your car in town today on my way to work and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You felt guilt grip tightly at your chest. He had sent you a few texts since the night of the shooting. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. This man was bad for you. It didn’t matter how much you liked him; you were a married woman trying to work on your relationship. Ezra knew that, he should respect you and understand why you weren’t jumping to text him back.

“I’m fine” your aid.

He paused, hearing the way you were slurring your words. “Little bird-”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” you snapped, anger rising out of you from nowhere. “I’m not your little bird, okay? I have a fucking name.”

Ezra seemed incredibly taken off guard “my apologies-”

“And I need you to stop texting me and calling me. Whatever the fuck you think we had, we didn’t. You were convenient, that’s all. I think it’s seriously creepy how you keep trying to hit on me when you know I’m married. Seriously, go find yourself a real fucking girlfriend and stop trying to ruin my marriage.”

The silence that followed was deafening, so you continued, “okay? Please get out of my life.”

“Understood,” he said simply. “Have a nice night.”

You hung up the phone and threw it onto the other side of the couch.

It was nearly 5:00am when Jack finally came through the door. The first thing he noticed was the half empty bottle of wine left open on the table, then you, asleep on the couch. He set down his satchel and locked the door behind him. Then he went around, shutting out the lights, then the tv. Once he was done, he sat next to you and rubbed your arm to wake you up.

His patience was running thin. He had wished you up in bed by the time he got home, asleep, so he didn’t have to deal with any of this. “‘Y/n’ come on. Time to go to bed.”

You drew in a slow breath and blinked at him as you woke. You could still feel the effects of the alcohol burning bright. “What time is it?” you mumbled, sitting up.

“Come on, I’m gonna pick you up. Ready?”

You nodded and allowed him to stand you up and put you over his shoulder. You noticed how his shirt was untucked in the back.

Once in the bedroom, he laid you down on the bed. He moved towards the closet but took his hand and stood. He sighed in annoyance and moved his face away as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Happy birthday,” you smiled, the heat from the alcohol making your face feel warm.

“Not my birthday anymore,” he said, trying to gently pull away from you.

Some part of you knew you were making a fool out of yourself. “I got a gift for you-”

He shook his head. “You’re disgusting.”

The words stung. You let go, your eyes widening, like you were about to cry. Then you realized what he thought you meant by gift. He knew you were too drunk to sleep with, so implying that he would have offended him.

You laughed, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “No, not like that. I’m sorry about - I. I drank when I was cooking because I thought you would be home earlier.” You noticed a smudge of pink on the inside of his collar. Then you noticed he wasn’t wearing a tie either. You lifted your hand, intending to touch it “What’s-”

He jerked back, then turned, going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him. You jumped at the sound and the way it made the photos hung on the wall rattle. You weren’t exactly sure what you did or saw to deserve a response like that.

When you heard the shower turn on, you figured you would get ready for bed yourself, but before you did, you withdrew the gift from the nightstand and placed it on his side of the bed. After that, you made your way to the guest bathroom to take off your makeup, then back downstairs to heat up some food. Nausea was already beginning to set in. You needed something in your stomach. While you were down there, you made a point to pack some leftovers in Tupperware containers that he could grab on his way out the door in the morning.

You slept in the guest room that night, figuring it was best to allow him space. He left before you woke, but you could have sworn you felt the mattress dip sometime in the morning and a soft touch come up to smooth down your hair. It could have very well been a dream though. The hangover was a bad one, and it was times like this you realize your age was catching up with you more quickly then you would like to acknowledge. Your plan for the rest of the day was to clean, mostly because you didn’t know what else to do and if you sat mulling over the events of last night it would just make you sad.

#Jack Daniels x you #Whiskey x you #Agent whiskey x Reader #Agent whiskey x you #Agent whiskey fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfiction #Kingsmen Fanfic #Pedro fanfic #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction

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reggiejworkshop · 3 years ago

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"A Chat With Company"

The following passage is a slightly abridged excerpt from a one shot I just posted on AO3 and Fanfiction.net. March 2019 Thaddeus Plotz trudged his tiny feet along the dirt path before he reached his destination. At the edge of the local park was a small bench that overlooked a large pond. It was always his preferred place to sit whenever he came here. The view was nice, the shade provided by the trees nearby was adequate, but what he really liked was that many of the locals didn't come out this far edge of the park. So he'd be able to sit in solitude. His content smile soured when he noticed the bench that was normally vacant was occupied for once.

"Outta the way, you bird brained flappers!" Slappy Squirrel yelled. The old gray squirrel swung her cane at a few geese that flapped in her direction. One of them tried to peck at her green hat before getting pelted by her purse. She then turned around to face him. "Well look who it is, Rip Van Winkle! What's with you?"

Plotz knew the nickname she uttered was no doubt directed towards his appearance as of lately. The white hair he usually kept trimmed that had now grown out on his sides. A tiny white stubble had formed under his chin. And the sharp custom fit blue suit he always wore, was traded out with normal casual clothes and a sun hat.

"I thought I'd be sitting alone today, looks like that's not happening" the old man grumbled.

Slappy rested her arms against the bench. "You know, this is a public park, in case you haven't noticed"

"What are you doing here?"

"Relaxing? Its what old folks do. So, your gonna sit?"

Despite his better judgement, he sat down next her. They looked out on at the pond for several minutes, watching the lily pads glide across the water with the cool breeze. This spot always seemed to look a little different each time he came. The rose bushes he looked forward to see bloom had been replaced with some new bushes of orange poppies. A couple of birds flew by and they fed them seeds. Even two of the Goodfeathers, Bobby and Squit, came by for a brief moment before they flew off.

"You know, since you're not a CEO. You're not an easy target for the Warners anymore."

Plotz didn't make eye contact as he tossed a few seeds to a sparrow, "That's correct"

"So, do you miss them?

He looked at her if that were a stupid question. "Of course I don't miss them! In order for that to happen they would have to go away!"

Her smile didn't change. "Yeah, sure"

"Those three were a serious liability to me! Now that they're not, they can do whatever they want at the studio, and I won't have to clean up the mess for once!"

Slappy rolled her eyes. "Sure you didn't miss them. That's exactly why you invited them to your retirement gathering."

Plotz's eyes widened. He was not expecting her to bring that up. "T-That was just to be courteous!"

She laughed. "That party was a hoot. You took that custard pie to the face like a champ!"

Plotz cheeks flushed bright red. "Thanks, for reminding me about that."

"Admit, you've grown to like those three. I can see it in your eyes!

"I haven't!" Plotz said with clenched his teeth, hating the fact that he knew Slappy was right.

So what if he was a tiny bit fond of them? Its not like they saw him as a dad or anything like that, that duty belonged to Dr. Scatchensniff. Plotz did still get the occasional email from the trio, no doubt littered ramblings and jokes. They never called often. He made sure of that when he finally learned caller I.D. Even then, he didn't really talk to anyone outside of work. And from what he heard, the trio often made jokes at his expense at the various conventions they have attended. He figured they didn't miss him that much either. Still he continued to protest.

"Besides, I'm getting a private beach house to stay far away from here! They'll never guess where it is. Not them, or even you!"

"Let me guess, Nassau?"

"Dooh! What the-?! How did you-?!" Plotz stammered to figure out what to say to her accurate predication. He couldn't never be as quick witted as her, and she knew it.

She gave a smug smile. "Relax Plotz, I'm just having some fun..." If you'd like to read the full story, the AO3 link to it is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35009218 Fanfiction link is also here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13986509/1/A-Chat-With-Company?__cf_chl_jschl_tk__=NgEs4LLVyH0xdlqBSWrk7eXVgoPJIQOzx7QjaG4dJHk-1636523055-0-gaNycGzNCRE This is the first time in a while I've done a companion picture to something I wrote. I am pretty satisfied with the picture itself, even though the sky is a little pale.. Completely forgot light blue doesn't show up well in a scan. I was really more concerned with the story and making sure both Slappy and Plotz were in character. It's been a while since I've written a full story and I wanted to try doing another fanfic using characters that aren't used as often.

#animaniacs #animaniacs reboot #90s cartoons #mr plotz #slappy squirrel #mixed media #colored pencil #markers #fanfic fanart #devianart #goodfeathers

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callmecallmecrazy · 4 years ago

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Preppy 1

*****

Warning! This is not my usual fare. Back in college I got very into preppy clothing and wrote a few short stories that I never shared anywhere. Figure I might as well post them for posterity. Enjoy this 2007/8 flashback!

*****

Two athletic men hauled Shawn into a dark room with a gurney table, and strapped his arms and legs down.

"What the fuck?" Shawn shouted, his shaggy hair covering his eyes. His muscular body struggled uselessly against the leather restraints holding down his body. "Who the hell are you fuckers?"

This caused the two men to stop suddenly.

"My goodness, how rude of me," one spoke. He was a tall man. He was wearing Sahara Sperry topsiders, pleated khakis, and a hunter green sweater. Peaking out from under the sweater was a blue and yellow striped oxford shirt. The collar was buttoned tightly around his neck, which was adorned with a simple yellow tie. His hair was cut in a short buzzcut.

He offered his hand out in the gesture of greeting and smiled at the man he had strapped down. "My name is Cody Bellford, please call me Skip. And this," he said as he pulled the other man towards him in a sort of man hug, "is Ace." The shorter man smiled. He too was dressed in pleated khakis, but was wearing a light blue polo with a popped collar. His hair was longer than Skip's, cut into a crisp flattop. Both men had athletic, strong bodies that were highlighted by their attire, but still looking very dressy.

"What the hell is going on?" Shawn screamed.

"Ugh, so barbaric," Ace sighed.

"Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?" Shawn asked.

"Yes," Skip began to explain. "Cleaned up. Groomed. Presentable. Your appearance and mouth reflect poorly on yourself and the school. Wouldn't you be happier if you were groomed and proper?"

"Fuck you!" Shawn retorted. The two preppy men just smiled to each other and began their work.

Ace walked up to Shawn's chest and proceeded to rip the oversized t-shirt off his chest, exposing Shawn's voluptuous pecs covered in fur. At the same time, Skip had proceeded to cut the sweat pants off of Shawn's legs. In few more simple motions, Shawn was lying nearly naked on the table, only his privates covered by a pair of striped boxers. His strong legs were lurching against the confines of the straps, and the veins in his arms and neck were bulging from his constant resistance. Shawn finally glanced upwards to realize that a full size mirror hung over him.

"You have a good physique, Shawn. You should take better care of yourself," Skip said.

"What?"

"This hair is disgusting. You would look so much better if you were more streamlined."

"Shit, shaving body hair is for fags!" Shawn was still struggling against the restraints but it was useless. He was exhausted, and the reflections of the two groomed, calm men standing over him confused him. Here he was, stressing and fighting, and they were calm and collected. In charge.

"Lots of men shave their body hair," Ace explained. "It works for some, but you would look better trimmed." Skip handed Ace an electric trimmer, which he turned on and waved delicately in front of Shawn's face. Shawn looked in terror as Ace took the blade over his chest and began to strike down the forest of hair growing across. He could only look forward and watch as his reflection was slowly denuded across the chest and abs. Skip made eye contact in the mirror and smiled brightly at the terrified man.

Next, Ace continued his swarthy path on the legs, reducing the long hairs to fine fibers, highlighting the deep cuts along his quads and calves. Beyond his range of vision, Skip had been stirring a pot of hot wax, and now sat down next to Shawn. He took one of Shawn's hands and applied the wax on the hair covering his fingers. With a quick rip, and a tired yelp from Shawn, one finger was clean of unsightly hair. Skip continued the process across all five digits and the back of the hand, then proceeded to do the other hand. Ace had moved on to the arm that Skip had finished and removed all the hair from Shawn's wrist to his shoulder. Skip went down to Shawn's feet and quickly ripped the hair off of his feet and toes.

"Goodness, Shawn," Ace smiled at Shawn in the mirror. "You look so much better now."

"Yes, I think so too. You should keep this look." Shawn stared at the two smiling men in the mirror, finding himself drawn into their bright smiles and amber eyes. He wanted to look away, but his face was held in place. He tried to close his eyes, but he was constantly drawn back into the soothing haze of their white teeth and tan skin. His skin did look good. His skin had a natural tan and without the hair it seemed that his muscles were bigger, more cut, more defined. Maybe it wasn't, no, he hated it. Shaving body hair was stupid. But kind of sexy...

"Now, about these," Skip said as he cut the boxer shorts from Shawn's body. Shawn was shocked into silence as Ace roughly gripped his package.

"Don't worry," Ace said, again smiling. "I'm not a pervert. I just want you to be the best you can be." And with those words, he once again turned on the electric trimmer and carefully reduced his pubic hair to a short stubble. A few more quick strokes near the inner thigh, and both preppy boys stepped back and addressed Shawn in the mirror.

"You look swell, Shawn," Ace said. "This clean look really suits you."

"Yes, I agree," Skip said. "I think everything we're doing you should maintain. Weekly should be enough for you to look presentable everywhere. It's important to be groomed and presentable at all times. You don't want to meet the wrong person looking poorly."

"Wrong... person?" Shawn stammered, he was nearly overwhelmed by the whole situation and found himself increasingly groggy and incoherent.

"Yes, there are the right people and the wrong people," Ace explained. "If you meet a bank president, you don't want to look like a grunge band member. You want to look like you know a Brooks Brothers inside and out. That's how you get ahead."

"Oh, but... I ... umm.... shit," Shawn said, exerting a tiny bit of resistance in an attempt to move his head to the side.

"And don't swear, Shawn," Skip said. "You sound unprofessional and uneducated. Looking your best means acting your best."

"Umm, okay."

"Don't stutter or stammer. Speak clearly and decisively. A man."

"Okay." Ace and Skip smiled to each other, and for just a single moment, Shawn smiled himself.

"You are coming along very well, Shawn. Just a tad more and I think you'll be a new man."

"Yes, I agree. Shawn just needs a few touch-ups and he will be an ideal gentleman." Skip stepped out of view for just a second and then reappeared. Into the mirror, he held up a pair of classic y-front briefs. He pulled on them slightly to emphasize the item.

"These, are the ideal underwear for a conservative, preppy man. That's what we want you to become. That's what you want to be Shawn. All of this is just so you can be a gentleman." Shawn's eyes bulged as he saw the old-fashioned underwear. Ace undid the straps on his legs, but Shawn found himself too exhausted to move. The boys gently lifted up his legs and slip down the tight, white briefs. They traced up his thighs and gently began to engulf his crotch and butt. With a sharp elastic snap, he felt the band settle against his waist. He had resisted looking, but curiously he peered at his image. He looked amazing. The briefs looked so presentable and manly. He felt powerful and in control. Once again, Shawn found himself smiling pleasantly.

"Feeling a tad preppy?" Ace teased. "Don't worry, only one thing left."

"Your hair," Skip said. "It's so rough and wild. Not the image one wants to send." Shawn had nothing left inside himself to resist. He merely nodded as well as the straps would let him. The table holding up his head receded, and Shawn saw Ace holding his neck up while Skip brought over a pair of clippers. They sprang to life with a low growl. Skip wasted no time in reducing the sides of his head to nothing. The shaggy haircut was being quickly reduced. He ran the clippers over the sides of his head, leaving a white wall of flesh behind in its wake. That finished, he proceeded to comb the hair back and began hacking it off. Large chunks of brown hair fell to the floor as Shawn was shorn. Finally, with about an inch left, Skip wet the hair and brushed it all up. Using a small trimmer, he proceeded to flatten out his hair, until the top was a level plain identical to Ace's square hair.

"You need something drastically different," Ace explained. "Such a dramatic change proves how intent you are on improving yourself." Skip just nodded as he continued to even out the top of the hair. Shawn was nearing his breaking point, as he watched his long, mangled hair replaced with a corporate hairstyle of precision and execution. Skip applied some strange wax to the hair forcing it to stand up straight.

"After some practice," Skip began, "your hair will hold itself up. But the wax is still good measure." Shawn found himself nodding as the knowledge of how to maintain his new hairstyle sunk into his freshly exposed head. Skip pulled the head piece out from the table, and Ace let Shawn's head rest on the table. The two prepsters stood back and admired their work.

"You look like a decent guy now. No more grunge or nasty college boy."

"No, you look like the prefect preppy."

"You are going places. Meeting the right people."

"I'm sure you'll get a great job and make lots of money."

"You've already met us. And there is a bunch of men back at the house excited to meet you."

"Of course, you should join the fraternity. Men like us need to stick together."

"Don't you like this Shawn. Being preppy. You look so much better."

"You're a born-again preppy. We prefer you like this. And all the brothers want you like this. You want to be like this, don't you?"

Staring at himself in the overhead mirror, Shawn was shocked at how much he liked his reflection. Formerly shaggy hair now stood straight up over his head, looking stiff as a board. Whitewalls on the sides, his ears seemed to stick out a little - something else he found surprisingly appealing. His tan, muscular body was shown to all its glory, his former resistance giving his body a sheen from sweat and muscle tension. Without his body hair, he looked bigger, stronger, and cleaner. He had always thought that shaving body hair was nelly and silly, but he looked much better now. And then the briefs. Tight, white briefs with a full cut covered his nether regions. He had always worn boxers. But there was something alluring about the underwear, with its clean-cut lines. Almost unconsciously, Shawn found his face slowly being filled with a charming, pleasant smile. His dazzling white teeth began to cover more of his face as the empty grin consumed him. Brown eyes lit up with a sort of cordial ambiance.

He liked it. He really did. Shawn was suddenly overwhelmed with a dire urgency. Something he had never felt before welling up inside of him. He wanted to be like the preppy boys. To be like this. Attractive and fit and well liked and happy. To be successful and entitled and self-assured. And surrounded by men his equal. Men as fit and clean and productive. To be engulfed in their manly etiquette and mannerisms. Better yet, be a part of group of such men. To be part of a fraternity.

All at once, Shawn's sudden pleasant nature began to override the rest of his personality. So what if he wanted to dress, act, be one of the preppy boys? If anything, being a preppy boy would be good for him. He would get in with the right people, wear the right clothes, be the right kind of man. The kind of man Shawn would never have been on his own. And he'd be happy. It sounded pretty great to Shawn, who continued to sink into a cheerful bliss.

At this point, Skip and Ace proceeded to undo the straps holding Shawn down. He allowed the two well-dressed boys to help him off the table and he thanked them politely. Manners were always important after all, but too much thanks sounded sarcastic or desperate - neither of which were admirable qualities in a man. Ace gave Shawn a gentle pat on the back and a bright smile.

"Feeling better?"

"Yessir, thank you both very much," Shawn replied.

"Of course," Skip replied eloquently. "Here, you might want to get dressed."

The boys handed Shawn a pair of khaki Dockers’. He slipped the pants up his muscular legs and pulled them high over his briefs. The khakis sat a little higher than his normal baggy pants had, and Shawn liked it. It was a much classier fit. As he zipped up the fly and buttoned the top, he noticed the pants were pleated. Actually, it was a double pleat, he was pleased to note. For some reason, he had always hated pleated pants. He didn't know why. Clearly, they were a much smarter look on a man. More formal. Next, the two fraternity boys gave Shawn a light blue oxford shirt, complete with a little polo player on the left breast. They helped him tuck the shirt gently into his pants as he began to button the shirt up. He stopped before the very top, but Ace flipped up Shawn's collar and proceeded to button it to the very top. His neck was a little too thick for the buttoned collar, but he realized it would force him to carry his chin high, with pride and confidence. Yes, a high collar was definitely better for his posture.

"A proper man doesn't wear a button-down shirt without a tie of some sort," Skip said coyly as he approached Shawn, a line of fabric resting in his hands. Shawn couldn't see what was happening as Skip proceeded to tie a tie on his neck. At the same time, he felt Ace fumbling with the cuffs of his shirt.

Skip stepped back and admired his handiwork and once again presented that gorgeous white smile to Shawn, who was pleased to return the cordial charm of the other man. Ace was working away at his hips, looping a brown leather belt through the hoops of his Dockers. Skip held up a pair of blue dress socks with a purple and yellow argyle pattern on them. Shawn smiled and lifted up one leg, and then the other, feeling the stretch of the fabric engulf his feet. When he set each foot down, a pair of penny loafers had been set in the way, forcing his foot to slide elegantly into the leather classics.

"Just a tad preppier," Ace said as he pulled up the final item. A sweater vest, with a black, grey, and white argyle pattern on it. Shawn could see thin yellow and blue lines running between the diamonds. He lost his vision as the sweater was pulled over his hair and rested on his broad shoulders. Rough hands began adjusting the sweater across his body. It was a bit of tight fit given the size of his pecs and shoulders. The belt was adjusted, the tie straighten, the hair fluffed. Meanwhile, Skip had pulled over a full-size mirror. When Ace stepped away from Shawn, taking his place next to Skip, Shawn could finally see his new visage.

He was a preppy boy. Pleated khakis over an oxford shirt and sweater vest. It hadn't been a traditional tie that was put around his neck, but rather a purple and yellow bowtie. Classic cufflinks had been used on the cuffs of his shirt. Combined with the brown loafers and belt, he was the spitting image of a preppy boy.

Spitting image? Shawn thought to himself. How inappropriate. More like the classic construct of a prepster.

"I think Tad is preppy now," Ace said as he looked over the new prep's outfit.

"Think you are a Tad now?" Skip said as he slipped his hand on the recently madeover man's shoulder.

"Skip, Ace, thank you both very much. I would be pleased if you called me Tad. Shawn is so uncouth."

"We understand, Tad," Ace said. "Neither of our names befit our preppiness. Hence, we have preppy nicknames."

"Well, Tad, I think that it's time you went upstairs and met the rest of the men. You are in the fraternity now, correct?"

"I would be honored to be a brother. Rush begins today?"

"Oh, you're not going to need to rush. In fact, we would like you to greet the rushees."

"Absolutely!" Tad exclaimed. "I am honored to represent our brothers and our fraternity."

"Great, let's get you settled in." The three brothers walk upstairs into the house, to introduce Tad to his new life.

Later that day, as the rushees came into the house, the brother meeted and greeted all the potential men. Among them, was a preppy man with a flattop and a purple and yellow bowtie. He was wearing pleated khakis and a sweater vest. And his nametag had 'TAD' written in bold letters. It crossed his chest in the same place the little polo player did. Aside from the nametag, he was nearly indistinguishable form the other brothers. And in the next week, a few more good men would find themselves proud brothers of the fraternity and brothers in preppiness.

#preppification #callmecrazy #clothing #nosex #mental change

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

GLOW (one-shot)

Part of the Stray Wolves Series

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: language, smut, some dirty talk, mentions of knotting, and there’s fluff at the end because I can’t help myself

Genre: Werewolf AU; Marriage AU; Sequel

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Changbin was rather overprotective of their unborn pups, but Y/N knew that he was just doing his best for his future family. However, she still has those days where she misses their nights of intimacy, and Y/N might have a few tricks up her sleeve when it comes to seducing her hesitant mate.

It was too early in the morning to deal with the dawning sunlight penetrating the floral curtains in my bedroom. I was certain that the outside world had decided to disturb the lingering effects of slumber that refused to let me open my eyes. I tried to ignore the natural alarm clock, burying myself closer against my mate as he slept next to me. For whatever reason, Changbin had figured out a way to block out the effects of the morning sun, even as the angle drew waves of light across the room.

There was only so much that my sensitive eyesight could take before I was forced to abandon the prospect of more sleep. And I thought that it was unfair that Changbin should continue to sleep peacefully while I suffered alone. “Binnie,” I whispered, clinging almost desperately to Changbin’s outstretched limbs. I mostly blamed the pregnancy hormones because every active instinct was begging me for Changbin’s attention.

“Y/N?” Changbin answered groggily, voice thick with sleep as he squinted his eyes to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, letting him know that it wasn’t a big deal. “Hormones.”

“Yeah?” Changbin replied with a chuckle, using one strong arm to drag me even closer.

I allowed him the close contact, enjoying the calming warmth emanating from his bare chest. It might’ve been a simple solution to my morning light predicament, especially when Changbin started to brush his fingers through my hair in a gentle rhythm. My eyelids fluttered in delight, hands finding purchase against his smooth skin. But when Changbin started to move himself into an upright position, I immediately released a pathetic whine, clawing at him to return next to my side. “What are you doing?”

“I’m scheduled for a hunting patrol,” Changbin replied, and he easily unwound my arms from around his trim waistline. And I gave up on any attempts that could’ve convinced him to return to our shared bed, finding a comfortable position on my back as I clung to the remnants of sleep. However, when I approached the precipice of unconsciousness once again, something cold and wet touched my arm, and I groaned in complaint when I realized that it was Changbin’s nose. I studied him from my vulnerable state as my mate somehow managed to crawl over top of me.

“Changbin,” I whined, feeling pressured from the overbearing warmth of his upper body as he sniffed across my stomach. “You’re gonna get them all riled up!”

“How are they?” he asked, with just a faint hint of a soothing purr at the back of his throat. The question itself was in reference to our unborn pups, growing each day as we progressed closer to my due date.

They must’ve been able to detect the presence of their father, moving uncomfortably inside as I squirmed around on the bed. “The pups are fine,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully when Changbin pressed a hand to the swell of my stomach.

His smile was contagious, eyes bright with pride as he felt the evidence of the little pups. “What about you?” Changbin asked, looking up at me with the dark eyes that I adored.

“Well, let’s see.” I grinned. “The morning sickness is there, and I feel bloated and sore and strangely horny...”

Changbin scoffed, sitting back on his haunches. “I can’t do much about the first two.”

“Oh?” I asked, feeling the familiar coils of desire lighting themselves from somewhere deep inside of me. “And the third?”

Changbin smirked before he crawled off the bed, leaving me to whine after him. “What am I supposed to do when I’m scheduled to hunt?”

“You can still give me your cock,” I said, and my mouth started watering at the prospect, eyeing the familiar bulge in his dark pants.

“Shameless,” he remarked, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of my head before he started for the door. “I’m leaving, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I huffed, watching Changbin until the door blocked him from my line of vision.

In the meantime, I was left to my own devices, and I found myself in good company with a close friend. Even though Chan’s mate was younger than me, I still enjoyed her comforting presence when there wasn’t much for me to handle during my pregnancy. Despite my wolf’s desire to run out into the woods and explore the territory, I was forced to withhold those urges and keep myself inside the camp. But at least I could still try to prove useful, stitching together a sweater for my unborn pup while Chan’s mate regaled me with stories of the outside world.

“That looks...interesting?” she offered once I held up the pathetic excuse for a sweater that I had just made. It turned out that my stitching skills needed more work.

“I wanted to make them something nice,” I pouted, studying the intricate sweater design and wondering where I had went wrong.

“It takes time,” she said, and I knew that it was only an attempt to make me feel better.

“Well, I have plenty of that,” I muttered, and I found my wandering gaze searching a returning patrol because I missed the familiar freedom of shifting.

Chan’s mate seemed to notice the change in my mood, offering me a helping hand as we both stood up together. “Why don’t we go to the nursery?” she suggested. “We can visit some of the younger pups.”

I nodded at the idea, brightening at the prospect. “I’d love that.”

She giggled, offering me an arm to assist me as we made our way to the other side of the camp where the nursery was carefully maintained. It provided the most protection, especially during times of potential conflict, and we nodded at our pack mates who were guarding the entrance, receiving polite bows in return. After all, we were the mates of our pack’s alpha and beta, which meant a lot considering the reliance that we had on hierarchies.

However, I still wasn’t used to seeing my pack mates show me that kind of respect, and I almost resented my position. But in any case, I was relieved to distract my thoughts with the overwhelming sweet smell of milk, and I couldn’t resist cooing at the sight of the little pups playing at the center of the room. It was definitely post-naptime for most of them, and I smiled as they shifted at whim, colliding together as they wore off their accumulated energy.

“Y/N,” one of the mothers greeted me, beckoning me closer while she held a tiny pup in her arms.

“Hello,” I said, lowering my voice so as not to startle the small pup.

“I can’t believe Changbin let you wander around the camp,” she joked, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Cabin fever,” I offered in return, and she laughed before nodding down at the pup who was looking at me with wide eyes.

“This is my daughter,” she said. “I think she likes you.”

“Really?” I asked, crossing my legs underneath me as I settled down on the floor. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The younger pup whined, but looked to her mother for guidance. “Go ahead! You can talk to Y/N.”

The pup still hesitated before leaving the safety of her mother’s arms to stand in front of me. “Hi.”

I smiled at the pup’s timid voice, and I instinctually smoothed a hand down the front of my stomach. “Would you like to feel them?” I asked, and younger pup nodded as I led her hand to my stomach.

At the first kick she felt, the pup immediately jumped back, holding her hand close to her chest as she looked at me with wide eyes. “Did you feel that?” I asked, and she nodded. “Those are my pups.”

There was a little gasp from the younger girl, and she looked positively mystified at the interesting development. Meanwhile, I noticed that a familiar scent had permeated the milky smell of the nursery, and I didn’t even need to turn around to notice Changbin’s return. “I helped make them,” Changbin added with a proud smile.

“Don’t say that,” I groaned, rolling my eyes as I shot the pup’s mother an apologetic look.

“It’s fine,” the mother assured me, and she opened her arms for the curious little pup who didn’t hesitate to snuggle close.

“She’s beautiful,” I told her, and she nodded in gratitude. “Changbin,” I finally said, turning around to look at my mate. “I thought you were busy.”

“The patrol ended early,” Changbin explained. “We found a lot of prey by the riverside.”

“Oh?” I grinned, holding out my hand for him, which my mate didn’t hesitate to accept. “Does this mean we can go back to the cabin and cuddle?”

Changbin laughed at my request, but his hand was firm around my waist as we both waved at Chan’s mate who was still busy playing with a rambunctious group of older pups. “Whatever you want,” Changbin said, burying his nose close to my scent gland. “But first, we need to find you something to eat.”

I groaned at that idea because my appetite had been all over the place since the start of my pregnancy. But I knew that I couldn’t skip another meal, so I allowed Changbin to dote on me, finding us something delicious as we settled next to our pack mates in the communal dining room. It was comfortable and nice, and I kept my hand wrapped around Changbin’s as I answered questions about my unborn pups, feeling my wolf’s satisfaction at having the ones she loved so close where she liked them the most.

Later that night, Changbin and I returned to our shared cabin. As the pack Beta, our living quarters were located close to the alpha’s, and we enjoyed the privacy of the secluded living arrangements. Because when we first mated, Changbin and I often snuck away to our cabin throughout the day, unable to keep our hands to ourselves.

I considered those instances as part of the “honeymoon” phase of our relationship, and I sometimes longed for the intimacy that we shared. Unfortunately, Changbin had decided that we both needed to remain celibate during my pregnancy, for reasons that defied my rational understanding. Of coure, I was also convinced that he still liked to tease me on purpose. For example, I bit my lower lip to keep myself from moaning at the sight of Changbin re-emerging from our shared bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. And I took a deep breath, smoothing my hand down my stomach. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” Changbin said, reaching for a pair of loose black pants. I watched him drop his towel with a heavy exhale.

“What did Chan say about his meeting with the Vampire King?” I asked.

“I think it’s a territorial dispute,” Changbin said, and he sounded perfectly nonchalant, matching the easy way that he was tying the drawstring of the same pants that were hugging his outline of his ass.

“So, everything is good?” I asked, studying the delicious lines of his muscles as he started walking towards the bed.

"We’ll have it sorted out,” Changbin said, and he smiled at me before brushing a gentle kiss across my lips.

I moaned at the taste of him, and it was the opportunity that I had been looking for after all this time, tightening one of my hands against the back of his neck to hold him close. Changbin released a noise of surprise, and I used the advantage to run my tongue across the seam of his lips. Because the sensation was addictive, and it had been a while since I kissed Changbin like this.

“Y/N,” Changbin whispered, breaths heavy as he kissed me in return, passionate and sensual exchanges of oxygen and the warm, wet sensation of his tongue against mine.

“Please, Changbin,” I whined, palming at his cock while giving him a look that I hoped he wouldn’t be able to resist.

He sighed in response, settling down next to me on the bed. “Y/N,” he repeated, and I could see the familiar doubt reflecting heavy in his gaze. “What if I hurt them?” Changbin asked, hesitating even as his cock started to fill out the impressive bulge in his black pants.

“Come on!” I groaned, throwing one of my legs over his hip to leisurely grind my wet heat against his erection. “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

I traced my hands along the smooth contours of his chest, looking into his eyes while tweaking one of his nipples. “Hey!” Changbin protested, and I grinned in response before sucking on the sensitive peak.

I pulled off with an obscene pop, tracing my lower lip with my tongue. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want it.”

I traced the outline of his cock to prove my point, tightening the fabric to create an obscene image. “Seriously, Changbin? How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay? I’m ready to beg at this point.”

“Y/N.” Changbin sighed, closing his eyes and throwing back his head while I continued to stroke him through his pants. Soft, seductive touches, and I successfully bunched the fabric of his pants separating the two of us before adding pressure to his sensitive cockhead. Changbin moaned in response, eyes flying open as he looked at me with nothing but pure lust reflected in his delicate orbs.

I released a breathy gasp when he abruptly switched our positions, using his strength to crawl over me with a smirk. “Was I convincing?” I asked him, moaning when he started to undo the string on my shorts. The thin fabric was forced down my legs, and I watched them fall into the floor while Changbin made a show of pushing my thighs apart.

“Does this little pussy need some attention?” he asked, raising one brow while keeping his eyes fixed on mine. It was intentionally provocative, especially when his tongue made a single stripe along the crease of my labia.

“Fuck,” I cursed, reaching down for the smooth strands of his hair, holding on for dear life as my legs started shaking.

Changbin growled in response, flicking his tongue against my clitoris while his fingers parted my folds, studying my leaking cunt with unwavering focus. “You’re dripping for me,” he said, and I nodded while hooking my thighs around his hips, guiding his clothed erection against where I wanted him the most.

“Changbin,” I groaned, watching him through heavy eyes as he removed his pants and boxers, leaving him completely naked and on display for my eyes as I made a leisurely exploration of his powerful form. Nothing but raw and sensual power that I had seen for myself in his defined biceps, and I often found myself hypnotized by the thick curves that built his torso.

“I’ll give you my cock, slut,” he hissed, gripping himself at the base as he gave himself several strokes to full hardness.

I started panting when he inserted just the tip, examining my face for any sign of discomfort. “It’s fine,” I huffed, impatiently trying force myself onto his cock since he was going far too slow for my liking.

“We’ll do this at my pace,” Changbin said, and there was an undeniable command behind his words that left me whimpering. I nodded in response, doing my best to appease him, as he slowly drove his cock all the way inside until his hips were flush against mine.

“Faster,” I whispered, throwing my head back because I was feeling pleasure from my mate for the first time since I discovered that I was pregnant. At some point, a girl will start to miss moments like this, drooling into the pillow while her big, strong alpha used his cock to bring her closure to the edge. “I’m not gonna last long.”

Changbin hummed in response, reaching down to apply a powerful grip on my hips as he started moving me at his command, looking down to watch his cock penetrate the convulsing walls of my leaking pussy. There was a pleasant friction as he stretched me out around his erection, and I savored the familiar sensation that I had been denied for so long - the kind of feeling that I had discovered for myself when Changbin mated me for the first time, searing his mark into the soft flesh of my neck while he drove his cock inside at a maddening pace.

It had been so long since I had experienced the thickness of his cock, and I could feel myself growing dizzy because my body wasn’t used to the familiar coils of my orgasm building in rapid succession. I was practically choking around stuttered moans when Changbin decided to abandon his previous reservations concerning our coupling. At this point, his hips were thrusting so fast that I could hardly perceive the motion, and I could feel every inch of his thick erection sliding against my walls while his knot started to catch against my vulva.

“Shit, Y/N,” Changbin snarled, and his leaned down to inhale at my scent gland. But the change in angle was exactly what I needed, and I could feel him hitting against my g-spot over and over again when I finally released months of built-up tension in a loud moan that I could barely contain.

Changbin followed shortly thereafter, smacking hips against my ass as he lifted me higher into the air, stuffing his cock so deep that I could feel him all the way at the head of my uterus. He then came with a loud groan, sweat perspiring against the hard planes of his chest, and he pulled himself free before his knot could trap us in place.

I could feel my mouth gaping open at the sight of his knot, watching as he continued stroking himself before tapping the head of his cock against my lips. “Open up for me,” he snarled, and I instantly obeyed his order, unclenching my jaw as I widened my mouth for his cock - taking him in until the tip touched the back of my throat and I gagged because it was borderline too much. “What a good girl,” he said, and I manged to run my tongue around the bulge of his knot as it pressed against my lips - whimpering when he used me as nothing more than another hole for his cum.

And he tasted bitter when I finally swallowed, choking around most of his release because it had been a while since I had given Changbin head. However, it was worth the effort to hear his sinful moans, gasping for breath when he pulled his flaccid length from my mouth. “Y/N,” he said, and his voice was far more gentle. “Let me run you a bath.”

I nodded in response because my throat was still too sore to manage any sort of verbal confirmation. Meanwhile, Changbin chuckled at my condition, and I focused on calming my racing heart while I heard the sound of running water from our bathroom. “I just took a shower,” he remarked upon his return, and I held tightly to him when he lifted me into his arms, carrying me into the bathroom with absolute ease.

I sighed in relief when I rested my head against his chest, submerged in the warm water as our hands interlocked on top of my stomach. “When they get here,” Changbin whispered, lips tracing the shape of my ear. “I’ll do my absolute best to protect all of you.”

I smiled at the sentiment, savoring this perfect moment even though I knew that there would be many more to come.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids writer #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids one-shot #seo changbin #stray kids changbin #stray kids changbin fanfic #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut

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hunflowers · 5 years ago

Text

based on this i posted last night teehee and maybe i got a little carried away but enjoy! *nose boops*

you had an exhausting night. truly, it was exhausting, and to top it off, you had an exhausting morning.

you supposed it was all of your fault because you hardly let you and harry sleep, but who could blame you? your boyfriend was a godsend who also happened to know just exactly how to treat you right in bed.

so, you wanted him over and over and over and over again. then you slept for a couple of hours, and you wanted him over and over and over again.

you hadn’t seen him for a little while and what other way was there to declare your love so passionately after a leave of absence? you guys were on your third round this morning, and you both were completely knocked out but it was worth it, it really was.

with one final thrust into your aching and dripping wet pussy, harry dropped all of his weight on top of you, the both of you panting as if you had just run a marathon. a very, very long marathon.

your eyes fluttered shut as a wave of tiredness flushed through your body, leaving you practically immobile as harry rolled himself off of you. you both lay there, completely content with yourselves as you gather all air that you can, your sweaty bodies practically melting into the sheets below you.

after a couple of minutes of unspoken silence, harry slowly rolled himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, scratching at his head and neck before getting up to put on a fresh pair of briefs and sweats. you couldn’t help but bask in the sight before you. you turned to lay on your side, your eyes following the muscles of his hamstrings as he walked to the dresser, admiring his cute behind that you could just squeeze.

when he stepped into his clothing, you all but drooled at the sight of his back muscles straining against his skin as he hiked his sweats up his thighs. with a quick glance over his shoulder, he figured you were staring and couldn’t help but smirk at you with his hooded eyes as he turned back to face you, arms crossing over his chest.

“i know that look, aren’t you tired?” he shakes his head.

“never g’na get tired of you,” you answered, taking a quick glance down his front and to his groin. “and it seems neither is that one.”

harry looked down to his crotch, rolling his lips into his mouth as he shuts his eyes in dismay before averting his attention back to you, “I’m gonna make breakfast, what do you want? Eggs? Pancakes?”

“C’mere, let me help you out,” you pouted, bottom lip jutting out. He blinked at you once, then twice, then avoided your lustful stare as he turned on his heel to head to the kitchen.

You whined as he stepped out the door, flinging the covers off your body and quickly stepping into a new pair of panties and one of his shirts before following him out the door. You wanted to seduce him, maybe even have sex in your kitchen, but when your stomach grumbled, you figured it was time for a well-deserved break.

But, that didn’t stop you in your endeavors. You sat on the island stool, watching Harry go about his way, cracking eggs onto the frying pan, and inserting a couple pieces of bread into the toaster.

“Can you stop staring at my butt?”

You snapped out of your daze, which happened to be on his butt, your eyes traveling up the length of his torso before finally resting on his eyes. You shook your head with a small smile, “I wanna squish it.”

“You’re not gonna squish it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll end up pinching me and I’d rather you not,” he spoke matter-of-factly, because it was exactly what you were gonna do. He knew your game plan, but that didn’t make you want to squish it any less.

You scrunched your eyebrows in sadness, exasperatedly throwing your elbows on the counter, your chin meet the palm of your hands as you continued to stare at him with depression dancing across your eyes. Again, he blinked once, then he blinked twice, and then turned back around to finish making your scrambled eggs.

Then, you tried one last resort to get what you want, “Fine, then no more sex.”

Slowly, Harry turned to look at you over his shoulder, looking at you with a bored yet confused gaze. “I believe that’s quite an extreme for not getting to squish my butt.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, getting up from your seat and picking the now freshly warmed toast out of the toaster. “I’m petty, what can I say.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, babe. You won’t last an hour,” he laughed, turning off the stove and placing the eggs down on the counter where you were just sitting.

“I’ll last longer than you, watch me,” you smiled cunningly, sitting back down on your stool and biting down into your food. Harry looked at you, a challenging glimmer sent your way before he smirked and shrugged, biting into his own toast.

Truth be told, when that hour passed you were aching for him on the inside as you sat and watched an episode of your current Netflix fixation. His hand sat gently on your knee that was draped across his lap, him rubbing small circles into your skin. And it was difficult to not straddle him and fuck him into the cushions of your couch, but you held strong.

All of your sexual encounters over the past sixteen hours were because you were horny, but not anymore. Now, it’ll be him just begging you to have your way with him. He’s gonna lose and you’re absolutely sure of it. Especially since you just so happened to need to adjust your position on the couch, your foot accidentally grazing over his cock in his pants, and you could hear him inhale just the faintest sharp breath as you nestled back into his side.

It was going to be a walk in the park for you.

That day went on, fruitless teasing being thrown around all day and night. When you both wormed back into bed, you cuddled how you normally do, your back to his front, and of course you had to adjust your position again, your bottom rubbing against his crotch in a very blatant manner, but Harry held your hips down, hissing in your ear, “Enough of that. Keep going and y’won’t walk for days.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were met with an empty back, your butt no longer pressed against him. You were confused for only a moment before you lazily looked over your shoulder and was met with such a beautiful sight.

Harry’s sweats and briefs were pushed down to his mid thighs, his very hard erection standing proudly as his fist worked up and down in quick motions, his wrist twisting everytime he neared the tip, his thumb grazing over his leaking slit before moving back down to his base. Soft moans were leaving his lips as his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure that seemed like agony. His other hand was combing through his messy hair, tugging lightly on his roots as he worked relentlessly to get his release.

You held back your laughter, and your drool, as you sat up to stare at his form. At the movement of the mattress, Harry’s eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting yours, desperation evident.

“Good morn–”

“Baby, you gotta help me out,” he whimpered, his eyes flicking to his cock before returning back to you.

“I think your hand is doing a fine job,” you snickered at your pun, absolutely reveling in how pathetic he was being. You knew he was bound to lose, but you just wanted to hear him beg for it.

He groaned at your denial, stopping his movements – no matter how badly he needed to keep going – and reaching for your small hand. You distanced yourself just enough to where he couldn’t reach you from his laying position, smirking at him as he all but cried at his current situation.

“Are you sure you want to lose, and so pathetically?” You chided in a teasing manner, your nails scraping up the length of his leg, stopping just where the waist of his pants rest on his thigh.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore. . . but please, please do something,” he whined, his right hand going back to slowly stroking his throbbing member.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you swatted at his hand, replacing it with your own, and slowly building up a rhythm to ease some of his discomfort.

You were so happy he lost and so quickly, because you’re absolutely itching to get a taste of him. You’ve been wanting him in your mouth since yesterday morning and now you were going to make the absolute most of it, because it’s his fault that you couldn’t sooner.

Leaning over his cock, you placed a wet kiss to his bright red tip, earning a groan of relief from Harry, before sinking your mouth down on him. You moaned at the feeling of him in your mouth, the vibrations of your throat shooting through him, causing him to whimper and thrust his hips up into your mouth. You gagged at the sudden impact, retracting yourself slightly before sending Harry a glare and holding his hips down with your hands.

He mumbled a quick apology, doing his best to keep his hips at bay. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft, your mouth picking up speed as you sucked harder every time you came back up to his tip. Every time you pushed back down you inched him just a little deeper down your throat. It was a rarity that you could shove him down completely, but Harry always appreciated the effort made. And right now, you really wanted him at the back of your throat.

You breathed as best you could through your nose, relaxing your jaw as much as you can, and counted down in your mind, before moving further down until your nose grazed his trimmed hair. A loud moan rippled through the air as Harry felt himself hit the warm muscle of your throat, stars beginning to stir in his vision.

“Shit, pet. . . shit, just like that.” It took everything in him to not grab the back of your head and fuck your face, continually hitting deep inside your mouth, but he did lightly thrust up despite your previous wishes, knowing he was just moments away from finishing.

Harry knew from the moment he woke up that he wasn’t gonna make it very far in this little bet. With your ass pressed firmly against his very, very hard dick, he knew he was a goner. And when he couldn’t make himself cum from his own hand, he knew there wasn’t anything else he could do but succumb to you and devices.

Not, that it was a bad thing though as you kitten licked his tip, sucking him dry as he released into your mouth. You swallowed every last drop of what he had to offer without a care in the world, and he knew not only was he a goner for the bet, but he was a goner for you.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy before he reached down and pulled you up the length of his body to place a chaste kiss to your lips and speak a thank you as he could feel himself relax into the mattress.

And without thinking about it, he dipped his fingers into your panties, his newly softened cock almost springing back up as he felt just how wet you had become. “That turned you on, huh?” You nodded gently, head tilting slightly as you looked at him with those gorgeous doe eyes that made him weak in the knees.

“C’mon then, sit on my face. My turn to make you feel good.”

#good endings? idk her #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles soft #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles

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royallyjoon · 5 years ago

Text

flower petal

credit for the gif goes to whoever made it and posted it first 🖤

yandere! jeon jungkook x reader oneshot

reincarnation au

you were once the queen married to the most well-known king of his dynasty, Jeon Jungkook. He failed to rule his kingdom properly, however, and took to prioritizing you rather than his kingdom. As a means of escape, you helped the people sneak into the palace and overthrow the young king.

centuries later, where you may have forgotten your place by his side, Jungkook will be all too sure to remind you where you stand.

note: (M/N) is for your middle name, and not your mother’s name just to avoid any confusion :) happy reading!

warnings: yandere themes, physical altercations

A.D. 1200s-1400s, North Drokest

“A king…does that mean I can be yours?”

He balked in confusion at the dark tone in your voice.

You weren’t meant to sound like this. Your voice was the honey in his tea to soothe his aching throat, the flower petals pressed between his pages in which he left a bit of his soul.

His queen would never speak to him with such a cruel, demeaning tone.

“Answer me.” Your voice got steadily louder. “You call yourself ‘king.’ You claim you rule over this sad, desperate realm but in reality, you divide. You cause turmoil. Your people aren’t happy. They starve, and they beg you for your mercy and you have none to give.”

The throne room was vast but straightforward. High walls and ceilings held up by ornate columns, decorated in every inch with the colors of the household. Red and gold banners decorated the walls, even the carpet leading to the red, plush seats of the golden throne was red with yellow lining. The tall, wooden doors of the palace stood behind you as threatening as the presence of the man before you.

The space was empty, except for you and the king, as all the advisors and knights had been released from duty. You assumed they were happily spending their freedom buried in spirits, women, men, or something of the sort.

You stood before the king, the red and gold trim on his robes mockingly prominent.

“A king would not sit back in amusement as his land festers away with an illness, a virus that is the king himself. You poison your land, this land. You have absolutely no right to call yourself king. To me, you are nothing more than a child playing dress-up.”

He sucked in a breath, gazing at you curiously. This was the first time he was making this sort of expression to you and for some crazed reason, you thought your words were finally reaching the mind of the deranged man before you.

“As for me? I am anything but yours. My body is dust, my breath air. Everything that was given to me I intend to give back to this world. You lay no claim over me, just as you lay no claim over this earth.”

“A king is only as powerful as his people intend him to be. In accordance with your current state, the people have deemed you unworthy.”

Your words were accentuated with the crashing of the palace doors. Citizens young and old marched into the throne room, pitchforks and torches lit, clamoring for the death of the king.

His eyes never left yours as the crowds grew behind you. “So you have betrayed me, my love.”

“You lied to me. You promised that once you took the throne, you would change everything your brother and father stood for. The minute you placed yourself on their seat, you followed in their footsteps.” You had to scream over the chants now.

The crowds hushed as the village leaders climbed the steps to the throne, pausing beside you.

“This is not me enacting punishment against you, for it is not my place, but the responsibility of the people to remove a leader they deem unfit.” You said.

“This is how we end?” He asked, remaining calm. If anything, the sadness in his tone made you clench your fists tighter.

“We ended a long time ago,” you said.

Just before you stepped to the side and let the people take him away, you bowed to His Majesty one last time.

“Your flower petals lost color a long time ago,” You choked out, stumbling backward and rushing out the throne room.

Your voice was torn, he noticed. You had tears in your eyes.

That was his darling.

Breaking out of the cold, hard shell that was the woman before. You were there.

“(M/N)!” He called, watching your form retreat into the darkness. The leaders restrained him, but he fought tooth and nail to catch a glimpse of your form once more. “Petal!”

You froze, but only for a moment. You then continued on with a quickened pace, holding back sobs.

And all throughout the kingdom, up until the king’s execution, the only words that passed through his lips were your name.

In small, breathless whispers and desperate, ravaged screams.

He called for you, but you never came.

———————————————————————————

A.D. 20XX, a metropolitan city

“I don’t know why I took this course,” you muttered to your friend, sticking your phone inside your bag as you stood in line at the Treshiuan Art Museum.

The building was lined with obsidian rock, glistening in the morning sun. The steps were dark and slippery, and the glass walls that adorned the first floor reflected harshly against the material. Inside, the cool blasts of air from the ceiling didn’t make the space any more welcoming. You untied your sweater from around your waist and zipped it up.

“You didn’t want to be stuck with a science course for the optional summer colloquium,” Taehyung stated, carelessly flicking through a museum pamphlet. “You said, and I quote, ‘Memorizing old people, dates, their art, and its meaning would forever be easier than learning oxidation-reduction.’’

“But was I wrong?” you grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. Taehyung felt that you had a lack of appreciation for “the arts”. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate them; you just weren’t as interested as he was. You would never discredit the beauty (or lack thereof) and meaning artists placed into their pieces.

“Tell her she’s wrong, Jungkook.” The upperclassman pouted at your classmate, whose eyes were glued to the game on his cellphone.

“You’re both wrong for trying to interrupt me right now,” he muttered furiously slamming his fingers on his screen.

“Joumou University students, over here!” The art history teacher called your group out of the line, standing next to a tall, brown-skinned woman with dark eyes. She smiled ominously, eyeing your trio with something akin to amusement in her eyes.

“Good morning everyone,” her slightly accented voice rang through the students, causing even Jungkook to look up from his handheld game.

“My name is Ilyana and I will be your tour guide this morning. I have been told by your teacher that most of you know little to nothing about thirteenth to fifteenth century dynasty art. I am excited to tell you everything I can. Before we embark upon our journey to the past, are there any questions?”

“I like her,” Taehyung whispered in your ear.

“Same. Anything like ‘embark upon our journey’ would sound lame from anyone else, but she makes it elegant and exciting.” You whispered back.

Jungkook snorted and tucked his phone into his pocket.

“No? Then let’s begin. Our tour will cover pieces from the Drokest region.”

Ilyana led your group to the elevators spouting information about the formation of royal lines in Drokest, where you somehow managed to fit in with another group. Your stop was first, and as you stepped off the elevator, your jaw dropped in awe.

The room was covered wall to wall with blue, purple, and silver. Tapestries, silks, and paintings, all had the same colors with glittering figures and jewels.

“In this land, every dynasty had designated colors. The first family to rule, the Layvns, were crowned with shades of royal blue and purple underneath a full moon, depicted by the silver embroidery.”

You walked around with Taehyung and Jungkook, admiring the care and attentiveness put into the tapestries.

“They must have loved this family,” you noted.

“The royal line of the Drokest region, albeit short, was mostly highly favored,” Ilyana said as she moved into the next hall.

“Mostly?” Taehyung asked.

“That’s a story for later.” Ilyana smiled.

You giggled and glanced over at Jungkook. He had his hood fully over his head, walking past all of the artwork without so much as sparing a look.

Like this, you passed rooms and rooms of bright, blooming colors. Pink and ivory for the second family, black and green for the third, and brown and ginger for the fourth.

As you passed through each room, the amount of artwork lessened. The number of tapestries decreased, the silk wardrobes became sparse, and the only consistent painting was that of the king and queen, possibly with their royal family.

You were with Taehyung, who was commenting on the horrible color choice the fourth family made when you noticed Jungkook sitting on a bench in the middle of the room. He had been downcast since before your tour of the exhibit started.

You left your energetic, argumentative friend and sat next to Jungkook. “You know, for the actual art major, you seem less interested in these pieces than me. Is everything okay?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I’m fine…the pieces are nice and everything. I just feel like…”

“Feel like what?” You gently pressed for him to go on.

“…I feel like I shouldn’t be here.” He finished. “Like someone hurt me and I don’t want to feel that pain ever again.”

Usually, you would push the feelings off with a joke, claiming Jungkook was getting in his feels because of the art and asking him if he wanted to play his hurt girl music. But the pain in his face told you a truer picture.

“Well, we’re almost done. After this next family, we can leave the museum and head back to the hotel. Or we can go to the restaurant you were excited to check out!” You said, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s only another half an hour. You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.”

Jungkook smiled weakly at you and you both stood as Ilyana called for the group to move on.

When your group entered the fifth room, it was a surprise for you to see only one painting. The room was bare of any tapestries or silks, and all of the lights were off, except for a single, dim light clearing the piece.

“Here, we have the fifth and final royal family of the Drokest region. We call them a family, but they were really just a royal couple. A young royal couple.”

“King Jeongguk and his Queen, (M/N). The two have quite a fantastic love story, full of tragedy, love, and disloyalty.” Ilyana smiled as if she had been present for the development of their story herself. “Gather for such a story, if you please.”

“King Jeongguk grew up in the palace a sheltered, careful boy. He did not have the same bloodthirsty, righteous drive his father and older brother carried. His closest companions were the walls of his bedroom; not even the chambermaids would speak to him.

“Jeongguk’s mother passed away at his birth, and he had never known the kindness of a woman’s touch. Legends say it was why he fell so hard, so fast for his future queen.”

“(M/N) was a little girl, the daughter of a flower peddler. She would stand in the streets of the capital city with her parents and older sister, charming people into buying a flower or two from her.”

“Jeongguk’s chambermaids would often purchase a bouquet of these flowers and place them in his room and the hallways of the palace. He adored their smell and look, pressed the petals between the pages of his book to save them, and talked to them in his extreme loneliness.”

“One day, the youngest prince escaped from the palace. He fled to the streets of the capital city, away from the brown and ginger flags of his father and pledged to live a simple life hidden amongst the commoners. During this short escape, he managed to meet the young girl as she and her family were selling his favorite flowers.”

Jungkook choked back a groan as he felt a sudden migraine hit. He stumbled his way to a bench and held his head in his hand as he tried not to draw too much attention to himself.

Images flashed before his eyes, with words and names that didn’t name sense. The clearest image was that of a young girl, with (h/c), (h/l) hair and the most beautiful (e/c) eyes. Her (s/c) hand extended a flower to him.

“Would you like to purchase a flower today?”

She grinned up at him, a few years younger and a few heads shorter. “I think it would look ever so lovely on your wrist or finger.”

He stood in awe until he heard the pounding feet of the palace guards.

“The palace guard found him, however, and dragged him back to the palace where he endured years of torment at the hand of his father and brother.” Ilyana continued.

Jungkook sat shaking.

How was he able to see the story in his mind?

“With every beating, the prince lost more and more of his humanity. The very viciousness that the king tried to instill in his own son was inflicted upon him and the crown prince. He slaughtered them and hung their bodies from trees in the mountains, letting the birds pick at their flesh. When nothing but bones were left, he had the soldiers throw their skeletons in the river.”

“Damn.” Taehyung whistled. You shivered, the feeling crawling down your spine.

“And once this cold-hearted prince became king, he had only one woman on his mind for him to marry. The same, precious little girl who offered to place a flower around his finger.”

“The king had her brought to the palace, where he essentially threatened her into marriage. At first, their relationship was tense but with time, the flower peddler’s daughter saw what was once in her young, sensitive prince. She brought out the best in him, hoping his kindness towards her could reflect more upon his actions in the kingdom.” Ever so often, Ilyana would pause and look you in the eye as she spoke about the queen. Her eyes carried a heaviness, a burden of emotions that you felt had no right to be turned against you.

“Unfortunately, however, it did the opposite and his reign got harsher, and the control he placed over his wife was suffocating. The citizens were taxed harshly, and corruption in the palace ran rampant. Jeongguk cared more for his wife than he did for being king. He was extremely possessive of her and forbid the chambermaids and knights from speaking to her. The queen eventually tired of this treatment and worked with the townspeople to overthrow the king. She disappeared in the night, and he was executed with her name on his lips. Thus, this was the last of the Drokest dynasty.” Your tour guide finished.

The room was hushed with the power of the story. Jungkook grit his teeth as more images flashed by in his mind.

The cracking of a whip against the air, the sting on his back and the smell of blood. His voice was hoarse from screaming.

The feeling of blood on his hands as he rid himself of his tormentors.

The joy he felt when he slipped a golden band onto his queen’s fingers.

The despair and anger that consumed him when she turned against him.

You had your eyes glued to the painting. Your chest ached painfully at the images of those two, young people. In every other portrait, the royal family is side by side staring cold and unforgivingly into the onlooker’s eyes. But in this portrait, as the queen grasps the king’s hands, she smiles gently. Her eyes are crinkled a bit, and the king beams as he turns his eyes on her.

How long must he have held his head in that position?

Since the beginning, I only ever had eyes for you. You are my saving grace, flower petal.

You turned, expecting to see someone next to you, but there was just empty space.

“Who said that?” you muttered.

Your eyes scanned the room for Jungkook, worried about how he was feeling after hearing the story. Perhaps it had hit him as hard as it hit you. Or perhaps it had made his uneasiness worse.

The young man stood in front of the painting, as close as the red rope allowed him. He scrutinized every aspect of the work.

Why did it feel so familiar?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jolted. “Woah, are you okay?” You chuckled.

His eyes refused to land anywhere near you and his voice was currently not working, so he settled for a nod.

“The story must have gotten to you too. I was just thinking about how much love he had for her to break his neck staying in one position for the painting…” You looked at him searching for a laugh, or even a smile, but to your surprise, Jungkook had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Jungkook?” You gasped out and reached to wipe them away.

He smacked your hand away harshly, his hood falling down to cover his eyes. Without another word, he stormed out of the gallery.

You were about to go running after him when Ilyana stepped in your path. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What? Oh...yes.” You said. “In another life, I’m sure they would have made a great pair.”

Ilyana laughed gracefully. “I admire the way you think. Would you like to hear a little known fact?”

“Sure,” you said trying to hide your frustration as you watched your friend get farther and farther away. “Why not?”

“Rumour has it, King Jeongguk had the sweetest nickname for his queen.” Ilyana mused. “He called her flower petal.”

Your blood froze.

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

The rest of the summer was extremely hard. Ever since the travel colloquium, Jungkook had been ignoring you. Two weeks into the school year his behavior hadn’t changed. He would be with Taehyung, and once you walked up to the two he found a way to step out of the conversation.

There was a day when he stopped giving excuses, and it was the same day you stopped accepting them.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Taehyung asked as you were in his dorm room one night. The two of you were eating pizza and playing video games, as usual, relaxing from a busy, stressful week of adulting. He sat relaxing in his Gucci shirt and sweatpants. “Why are you and Jungkook so tense? Are you fighting or something? Did you two have sex over the summer and then things got really awkward, so you stopped talking?”

You spluttered, choking on a slice of pizza. “Tae, what? No! Absolutely not! I don’t know what went wrong--we were looking at that painting from the Drokest dynasty and he flipped out on me and hasn’t spoken to me since. I don’t know what I did wrong...”

“You shouldn’t let him treat you that way, especially if you don’t deserve it,” Taehyung advised. “Why don’t you confront him about it?”

“You know I’m not a very confrontational person. I don’t like getting into other people’s business. Then again, Jungkook isn’t just ‘other people’. So if he’s going through something, I should at least try to meet him halfway.” Your argument changed direction in a matter of seconds as you reconsidered your thoughts.

“Most definitely!” Taehyung cheered you on. “It isn’t too late, why don’t you go over to his apartment now?”

You hesitated but grabbed your bag. “Alright. I guess I’m off, then.”

Taehyung walked you to the door, hugging you goodbye.

On the way to Jungkook’s, you thought over everything you were going to say. Things ended so awkwardly back at the museum, you hadn’t the slightest idea what to do.

You passed by a familiar green and white sign, looking at the multiple flower bouquets and stands.

This would either go horribly wrong or horribly right, but it was going to happen nonetheless.

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

You stood, shaking for some reason, in front of Jungkook’s door. He resided in a quieter part of the university town, a considerable distance from campus.

When terms with you two were better, he would join you and Taehyung’s “legendary” sleepovers and rarely had to worry about the distance. Lately, according to Taehyung, he’d been shutting himself inside his house.

Jungkook was a good student--he’d show up to class, never handed assignments in late, and was virtually passing every subject. But for the past couple of days, his teachers hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

You gulped.

“Come now, (Y/N). You’re not walking into certain death here.” You spoke under your breath. “This is a friend of yours who is shutting himself away from you, and you care about him. This is serious.”

With that self-encouragement, you rang the doorbell twice and stuck the flowers behind your back.

It was quiet inside for a moment, but you soon heard floorboards creaking. The chain slid into place before the door slightly opened.

As he peered out the crack, he saw you standing there with a smile on your face. His eyes widened.

“Hey, Jungkook.” You rocked back and forth on your heels. “I know it’s been a while but...I’ve been worried about you since our museum trip...I’m sorry for anything I did to offend you back then and I would sincerely like to talk to you about anything you’re worried about.”

He eyed you for a few moments. Without another word, he closed the door and removed the chain.

“Come in.” He said quietly.

You smiled, entering with your front to his so that he could not see your gift.

Jungkook was never this demure before, you noticed.

The apartment was dark. All of the lights were off, save a single lamplight illuminating his desk. It looked like the apartment of a recluse.

“So you have willingly returned to me, my love?” Jungkook murmured.

“What?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

“What?” He replied, locking the door behind him. “I didn’t say anything.”

You laughed weakly, eyeing the lock he just turned. “Sure, okay. But on a more serious note...”

Rather than the usual doodles and pieces of artwork Jungkook would have strewn around his apartment, there were clippings of articles about the fifth king and queen of the Drokest dynasty pinned to the walls, curtains, and windows. From art reviews to historical findings, any piece of information he could find was stapped to a chalkboard near the desk like a considerable life map.

“Were you that fascinated with the king and queen?” You asked him. “I still find the ending unsettling. I kind of wish it had ended another way, you know?”

This was obviously dangerous territory, for the last time you tried to talk to him about them, he’d burst into tears.

Yet when you looked at Jungkook, his eyes were alight with a hope that had not been present before.

“Yes!” He said, beaming. “That’s why I’ve been trying to find out so much about them...I want to recreate ou-their story so that they can get the best ending possible.”

“That’s cute.” You chuckled. “I wish you all the success in making that happen.”

“What did you bring me?” He questioned. “I’m ever so curious.”

You blushed, ignoring his antiquated speech. “Funnily enough, I was coming from Taehyung’s dorm-”

You didn’t notice the way his face darkened.

“-and on my way here, I passed by a flower shop and saw these and, well,” You handed him the bouquet. “Aren’t they beautiful? I think they’d look adorable on someone’s wrist or-”

“Wrapped around someone’s finger, yes.” Jungkook took the flowers so carefully, treating them like precious glass.

“Yes, how did you know?” You wondered.

“It was just a feeling...” Jungkook placed the flowers on his table and started preparing a vase for them. “...you know, (Y/N), when we were at the museum listening to the story, you didn’t feel anything strange?”

“Strange? No, I-actually, there was something a little weird. I thought you or Taehyung had said it to me, but after the story ended I heard someone calling me their ‘saving grace.’ But there was no one next to me the whole time.”

Since the beginning, I only ever had eyes for you.

Your head began to pound harshly. You grimaced and sat on a chair by his living room table.

Your friend placed the vase in the center of the table, setting the flowers in the water. “So you don’t remember anything other than that?”

Jungkook’s voice was oddly menacing. He trembled in the darkness of his apartment.

“No, should I?” You said.

Why is he shaking?

“You remember nothing of our past.” Jungkook lifted his head and those deep, dark, brown eyes were teeming with rage. “You remember nothing of your betrayal, yet your actions remain the same.”

“Jungkook, what are you talking about? I never betrayed you!” Your headache wasn’t getting any better and the situation had clearly worsened.

“I’ve been using my time to find out any and all information about us,” He continued. “My death was broadcasted all over the kingdom, with the next ruler being the son of one of the village elders. You, however, you disappeared without a trace.”

Your head was spinning too fast for you to understand. “Your death? The kingdom? ...Jungkook. Do you honestly think you’re the fifth king of Drokest?”

“I don’t think! I know I am!” He hissed at you. “I didn’t ask to remember, but now that I have do you expect it, all of it, to be water under the bridge?”

“Is that why you’ve been so angry at me?” You stood now furious, head pain be damned. “You think I’m the queen from the painting? You think I want you dead?”

“Like I said, your own actions betray you.” He gestured towards the flowers you brought him. “I can clearly see that history is about to repeat itself.”

“Those people are dead, Jungkook!” You finally burst. You had had enough of his emotional tantrum and gaslighting. “They lived, they loved, they’re gone! We are us! Here! In 20XX!”

Jungkook grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you so hard against the wall you saw stars. But they weren’t the normal stars erupting behind your eyelids.

The sky was lit with constellation upon constellation. A cool night breeze blew your (h/c) hair from your face. You reached up to brush it back for the hundredth time when another hand grabbed yours.

“For you, my love.” A young man with dark hair and dark eyes appeared next to you, holding out a beautiful hairpin. The flower on it was a dazzling red, and the beads that hung from it shimmered of gold and pink.

You accepted the gift with a bow and trembling hands. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

When you tried to fix the ornament in place, your hands were shaking so bad it would not stay still. He gracefully took it and in one swoop, locked your hair behind your ear.

“I know that you are afraid of me,” he claimed as you stiffened. “I won’t pretend that I have not done some things others may consider atrocious...”

“Yet you have nothing to fear from me, darling. Should you give yourself to me, I promise you will see me anew.” He wrapped his arms around you so easily, as if they had always been there. “As a changed man, I will do better for you.”

You relaxed some. “Your Majesty-”

“Jeongguk.” He interrupted. “Please, call me by my name.”

You blushed and whispered his birth name. “I am afraid of you. I’m not crafty enough to lie in your presence. But there is something I have wanted to ask you since the wedding.”

“Speak.” Jeongguk rubbed his head into your shoulder. “Anything you ask of, I will comply with.”

You gently pushed him off of you so that you could look him in the eyes and it would not be taken as rejection. “Why me? My family and I have done nothing but vend flowers for years. I have no special meaning to this kingdom, I truly can not comprehend how I can be its queen.”

The king was still for some moments. “Your flowers were my only friends in this palace.” He muttered at last. “In this sad, cold place where I was confined to my room, I pressed the petals between the pages of my books simply to feel their smoothness and warmth later on.”

His arms, strong and constricting, still rested around you. They tightened as he went on, holding you to the point where you felt that you could not breathe.

“When my father and brother chose to discipline me into becoming like them every day, it was the love for your flowers that they tried to beat out of me. My love for you.” He smirked. “Clearly, it didn’t work.”

You shivered and resisted the temptation to look to the mountains, where the bodies of the previous king and crown prince were still hanging, swaying in the wind.

“I chose you because you are the reason I stay human. Since the beginning, I only ever had eyes for you. That precious day when we met on the market streets, and you offered to tie a flower around my finger. You are my saving grace, flower petal.”

With a harsh gasp, you were brought out of the memory. Your hands grasped Jungkook’s arms like a vice and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath.

The vision..the voice...they were real.

Jungkook patiently waited for you to calm down, tsking as you slid to the floor still in his arms.

“That’s just like you, petal. Blaming me for not being able to recognize your wrongdoing.”

“So I was the...” you said. “And you were...we really...why?”

“I couldn’t tell you why, (Y/N). I hardly know why myself.” Jungkook said. “I laid here in torment since the summer, trying to find a way to prove to myself that it wasn’t real.”

“The visions?” You asked.

“Your betrayal.” He gritted out. “The way you sold me out to the villagers like some common criminal. I screamed until my throat bled, begging for you to come back and you never did.”

Your eyes widened with awakened fear. “I...it was...”

“Do you still stand by that decision?” Jungkook asked as he kneeled next to you on the ground.

“I...had to...” You whispered. Even after all these years, your feelings hadn’t changed. He was destroying the country, you, and himself. “Everything you touched was poison.”

Jungkook let out a sickly, dark laugh. He wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, bringing his lips to your ear.

“I suppose that alternate ending you were waiting for has arrived, then, hasn’t it?”

You feebly kicked at the spot between his legs but he jerked back without removing his hands. “Don’t worry, petal. I’ll make sure we go back to being happy and in love. With that, we will have the perfect ending. We can start the sixth line that never got to be.” His voice was dreamy and his eyes were light, despite the fact that he was applying enough strength to your neck to choke you out.

“N..o...” you barely managed to get the word out. It didn’t matter how much you resisted. Jungkook had centuries worth of anger backing him up.

"Don’t make me break you, petal,” he brushed tears from your eyes and shushed you like a child. “Flowers can’t grow to be as beautiful as they can be if the stems aren’t intact.”

I never should have come, you thought to yourself.

“Yes, you never should have betrayed me. But it’s alright, (Y/N). As you said, those people are dead and gone. We will start anew in this century and this life...and perhaps even the one after that.” He smiled, looking down at your unconscious figure and stroking your hair.

“I don’t care how many lives I have to live if it means I can finally be with you, petal.”

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