#wish me luck that ill be able to sleep tonight

[scentofpines]

At no time of the year do I feel more homicidal than on the days around New Year's Eve. I hope that anyone who sets off fireworks at any time other than midnight on New Year's Eve manages to blow their own head off with them. And then people say shit like "I'm not going to let a few cowardly animals and jumpy people spoil my fun”. If it was just midnight on New Year's Eve, hmmm, uhh, I'd still think it's a fucking primitive and stupid tradition to put pyrotechnics in the hands of drunk amateurs (a few die every year and dozens of apartments and houses burn down oh well), BUT I probably wouldn't be quite so fucking angry, ok. BUT IT'S NOT JUST MIDNIGHT, IT'S THE WHOLE FUCKING WEEK AROUND NEW YEAR'S EVE. On the day itself it's easily seven hours in which not 3 minutes go by without an explosion AND I LIVE IN THE COUNTRYSIDE. When we lived in the city it was a fucking war zone.

For years we've been spending New Year's Eve stuck in the most soundproofed room in the house (in the city apartment it was the mini bathroom where we squeezed in front of the running washing machine with the dog - for hours), listening to incredibly annoying loud music to somehow drown out the fucking explosions outside and calming panicked dogs. This year my mom finally got a proper tranquilizer for her dog who has even peed in the apartment in the past bc of his extreme panic (which he would never do otherwise) so hopefully he will be more calm this time. My dog was completely bulletproof until last year and had no problem with fireworks, then last New Year's Eve a fucking neighbor boy set off a firecracker just as we were coming around the corner (at 6pm!!! which was the latest we dared to go out) and unfortunately she has been extremely scared ever since. For the last two weeks I've been carrying pieces of carrot everywhere (she loves them) so that I can throw one down her throat every time there's a bang, but unfortunately that only helps to a limited extent. We also play the sound of fireworks through speakers to desensitize them, but the dogs can tell that it's not the real thing.

“Blabla go somewhere else then for the night”. 1. as I said, it's not just one night. 2. you can't escape that shit. There is NO place in this fucking country where you are guaranteed to escape the fireworks. Ohh yes it's forbidden in old town centers - Ok, but nobody actually sticks to it. Ohh look on the islands here it's restricted - Yes, but nobody cares. The police doesnt even do shit to offenders. The damn national park where rare animal species live, which is a nature reserve, etc. ASKS its visitors not to use fireworks - ASKS!!!! WHAT????? I hate this fucking holiday so much.

[humongousabysmal]

Gonna sleep in fetal position tonight hopefully I’ll die in my sleep and wake up reborn fully conscious in the womb where i am able to complete operate my mother like a robot machine and for me there will be a control panel already ready full of various buttons and levers and a huge red button in a glass covering labelled “EMERGENCY” it’ll probably shoot me through the stomach but it won’t be gorey or anything the hole in the moms stomach will reveal but a few layers of material starting externally red metal, tons of fake flesh layers, then a hyperrealistic layer of faux skin made of a material that doesn’t exist yet and ill run free umbilical cord still intact and sit in the middle of the road and get run over and start the whole process again why did i control the mom idk it seemed like a cool process like imagine your wife was a robot all this time lol some of you freaks would be into it but that is not the point wish me luck

[ashanbones]

i am ready to fucking loose it bc im sick a g a i n

101.2°f temp, not the highest but still. gods. i feel like shit and im pissed off.

im going to not be able to sleep worth a shit tonight because beast brain will scream at me to keep waking up and make sure im still safe despite being in a bedroom

going to try and trick beast brain into thinking i have another in bed with me by bunding close to plushies and pillows

wish me luck and wish me luck this is just another quick one day illness

bc it. doesn feel like the other recwnt times. almost vaguely feel like i did when i got covid. so im really fuckin hoping thats not it.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 2018 I slept better than I expected to yet I don’t have the energy or motivation to work out. I’ve done the laundry and soon I will clean the kitchen.

Looking forward to Camp Nano starting at midnight tomorrow night. I’ve been wanting to write but didn’t want to start a story and have two stories going at once. Nor did I want to start my Nano story too soon and be a cheater.

I forgot all my dreams. I hate that. I got up to pee at one point and remembered a dream or two in detail but forgot it once I got up for good.

He and I were talking about how my days have gotten shorter. Where my schedule used to jump about 2 hours a day 20 years ago, now it’s a little over an hour. How awesome it would be if it could shorten enough to hold a schedule! But with my shit luck, if this happens, it won’t be until I’m old and dying. :( It would just make it so much easier to do things in general.

A part of me hesitates to move too close to Tammy, knowing I would have to disappoint her at times by saying “no” to something she may want to do due to either my schedule or other commitments, not that she wouldn’t understand, especially as one with a medical background.

Circadian rhythm disorder wasn’t discovered and documented until 1999 when it was accidentally discovered in blind people. This made them realize that light doesn’t have as much to do with sleep cycles as originally thought. It was at its worst in my 30s. I think it peaks for most people who have it. You’re pretty much born with it as I always had sleep issues all my life, struggling to get to sleep at night and struggling to get up for school in the morning. But it does worsen before it gets better.

The only thing that would suck about my days shortening is that where it used to take me a week to flip my schedule, now it takes closer to two weeks, and well, I would hate to be stuck on nights for a month or so when there were things I needed or wanted to do in the daytime. But seriously, the only thing I would miss about nights is that they’re quieter! Not too much tonight in the way of car stereos or planes. Just the gentle whooshing sound of the freeway but I don’t mind that.

Anyway, the older we get, the more doctors’ appointments we tend to have so it would be nice if I didn’t have to struggle to get to them as I sometimes do now. I just dread the day they drop spouses from insurance. I hope that if they do it isn’t before Tom retires! It’s just that America has become so obsessed with separatism versus teamwork. Everybody wants everybody to take care of their own needs as independently as possible. That’s fine if that’s what you want and you’re able to do so, but this isn’t always so easy for some of us.

FRIDAY, MARCH 30, 2018 Poor Aly. She was not only put back on prednisone and given an iron shot, but she’s going to be 37 next month, right around the age that things really start going to hell. She’s up to 134 and 34 pounds and she is struggling hopelessly to change and undo the effects of aging. Acceptance will come as she gets a little older. Meanwhile, she should enjoy the 130s because someday she’s going to look back and wish he could be 134. Hell, I’d settle for being 144! But unless there’s a major medical breakthrough, I get seriously ill, or I become inhuman enough to suffer the effects of going thyrotoxic, which would mean taking my medication every day, even when I’m flaring, it’s not going to happen. I woke up at 156.4, though I am retaining water now as my body tries to decide whether or not to kick off a period.

I once tried to fight it thinking all I had to do was eat right and exercise but that’s like saying that as long as I’m a good person nothing bad will ever happen to me. Diet and exercise may work for those under 30-35, but the reality is that it takes very few calories to maintain the same weight when we get older that once would’ve caused us to lose like crazy.

Even Tom has struggled with his weight. He was 35 when we met and 205 lb. Now he’s almost 61 and 260 lb, maybe a little more. He too, has had no luck with diets. Where my problem is hunger, his is cravings. I have to go down to about 1000 calories or less to lose weight and that’s like starving. If I could do that then I could stand to have nothing at all.

What I think is important to keep in mind is that it’s how we feel and not how we look that matters most. Sometimes we just don’t have as much control over things as we’d like, like our height and eye color and all that. But there’s no reason we can’t keep active and at least keep our joints strong and our bodies healthy.

So sick am I of having to worry about my weight climbing that I am seriously thinking of “maxing” out. This is where I eat “normally” and allow my body to settle into whatever my “forever” weight is going to be. It takes a certain amount of calories for each of us to maintain a certain body weight. Although I try to choke back the calories most days, my comfort zone is about 1600-2000. If I ate that I wouldn’t feel much deprivation if any at all. But if I let myself have that every day, I would gain weight. I don’t know what my max weight for that calorie amount would be, but the reason I’m considering it is that A, I know it’s inevitable that I end up there someday anyway, and B, I figure if I just get it over with and discover my forever size and weight then I’ll no longer have to stress about it every single fucking day and wonder when I’m going to hit the 160s which I’ll probably do this year no matter how hard I try not to.

It’s a daily struggle. Literally. Every day is like trying to hold back the tides and I hate being hungry. Yet there is a lot of hunger that goes with trying to cut hundreds of calories from my daily intake. In my 20s and even most of my 30s, I wasn’t nearly as hungry as I became once I got to be around 40. This way, if I max out, I won’t have to worry about gaining what I suspect will be 20-30 more pounds because I will have already done it. I don’t think I would go over 200 if I kept exercising but ate “naturally.”

THURSDAY, MARCH 29, 2018 Space rent has gone from $795 to $865 in the 5 years we’ve lived here. And that’s cheap considering that the average 2-bedroom apartment here goes for $1400.

Since 3 teaspoons equal a tablespoon I decided to put a teaspoon of the apple cider vinegar in three of the 16.9 oz. water bottles I drink, but then Aly said that she put a tablespoon in a 20 oz. bottle of strawberry sparkly water and it was okay. I like this idea so I think I might try it.

Went out walking earlier and even at 9 p.m., the traffic around the front gate was like OMG. It got up to 82 degrees today and we ran the AC for a little while. I waited till it had just slipped under 70 degrees to go out. Hopefully, we won’t need the heat anymore for a while! Anyway, I loved the various cooking smells as well as the smell of Jasmine as I walked around.

I wish we didn’t have such old shitty windows so we could open them at night or anytime we want to without bugs getting in. I just couldn’t sleep with them open because the noise would be horrendous. I might as well go sleep in the middle of the road in that case! I’m tired of living in all places but that’s what I’ve lived in for most of my life. Really hope the next place, wherever it is, is more modern as well as quieter, but I highly doubt I’m going to get the last one. Not too many places these days are quiet. It’s after 11 p.m. and I can hear all kinds of things on the freeway and in the sky. Yet that’s mild compared to when the traffic is heavy in the park, as well as the near-daily landscaping and projects.

I don’t expect to have the energy to work out tomorrow night because I’m on nights right now and I’m sure the trash and recycle pickups are going to wake me up regularly along with whatever other thunderously loud vehicles go through here. I managed to sleep okay today but there was definitely a ton of loud traffic. Tomorrow I will probably just do laundry and maybe clean the kitchen.

This weekend we’re going to have a little meeting and decide when to move. We may not know the exact year but we should have a better idea. Do we do stupid and risky and go sooner? Or do we play it safe and smart and wait another five years or so? We’ll have to lay out all the pros and cons and make a decision. Damn, it’s a tough one, though!

No planes flying overhead now. Right now all I hear is the freeway, but hey, it is nighttime and I’m only about five or six hundred feet away from it. The only thing that sucks about warmer weather at night is that you hear the fucking car stereos blasting down it beginning at around 6 p.m. till around 2 a.m. It’s just fucking ridiculous the way we let so much shit go on in the world that shouldn’t and we don’t let things be that should be left alone. I still can’t believe how often I hear things in the daytime here. Landscaping was only done once a week or less and all the other places I ever lived, and I didn’t hear a fraction of the projects I hear going on here.

For dreams, I remember something about moving from someplace that didn’t look anything like this. I was doing a final walk-through of it and was in a room with a pullstring to a light in the center of it.

The next dream was really weird. I guess he and I were doing something illegal online and he kept telling me, “Shield me.” That meant I had to hold some strange object close to him so he wouldn’t get caught doing whatever he was doing, LOL. Then I was trying to hide some files or destroy them.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 28, 2018 Just when I had been sleeping well enough not to remember my dreams, the shitty sleep has returned right along with the nightmares. I actually had one good dream, though, of winning 30k.

Not only did I wake up twice to pee and twice from loud traffic, and then finally get up to the sound of obnoxious sawing as we can’t go one fucking week without a project here (they’re doing something at the house on the other side of Bob and Virginia), my dreams were less than pleasant.

I had just said to him the night before that I missed the “dream people” and hoped they would return as long as they could be nice. Well, they weren’t. In one dream we were at some store buying who knows what. There were three young women behind the service counter when one of them said that it would “push on our ears and make us smile.” :-) Well, Tom wasn’t happy to hear this, naturally, and demanded a refund of $40 for whatever the hell the product was. The girl became angry and said something about leaving her alone for a while and she stormed off. I demanded the other girl closest to us give us our money back. When she refused, I grabbed her by the hair and demanded the money, shaking her viciously. Then I looked at the third girl, and not wanting her to call for the bacon, I let the second girl go and tried to hustle Tom to the car who was walking in slow motion.

The worst dream was being in jail for who knows what when they decided to tell me that they were going to use me as a guinea pig in a weight-loss experiment that required a variety of experimental drugs. I told them that I not only had a medication phobia but refused to let anybody use my body as they pleased without my consent.

My punishment for not “cooperating” was starvation. They wouldn’t feed me unless I agreed to participate. Each day they brought me a tray of food and each day I refused it, determined not to let my body be turned into an experimental specimen. I became so weak that the last thing I remember in the dream was one of the guards throwing a bagged lunch at me. I guess they decided I should eat no matter what but it was too late. I was too weak to sit up and feed myself at that point even if I wanted to. The dream ended before they could either save me or let me starve to death. I think I know which one they chose. Like I said, definitely not happy in Dreamland.

The only other dreams I remember were being in some building with an indoor swimming pool, telling some guy to fuck off, and writing a French address on some envelope for Christiane. It seemed to be something I did periodically for her and for some reason, I came to enjoy it. Like I was oh so honored to do her this favor, LOL. She read the address back to me and I was impressed with her perfect French pronunciation. Then I lost the address and became frustrated because I knew this meant I would no longer be able to write it out for her as apparently, neither of us had it memorized.

TUESDAY, MARCH 27, 2018 Looked up the time the sun was to set earlier so I didn’t have any direct sunlight in my eyes. I went out walking for about a half-hour when it set at 7:24, sure to mix in some running along the way.

Not much else going on. For however long it may last, I’ve been feeling good and sleeping well. With CampNano just a few days away, I guess I better start thinking of more ideas. I have the basic plot in mind for the story I want to do but it’s very basic. I haven’t really thought of much detail. I’ve been busy so I haven’t really gotten around to it just yet.

Tom’s shoulder still hurts on and off and it pulls out of the socket at times. Hopefully, he won’t need surgery on it! The sling still helps but it comes and goes. He said it was fine the first 8 hours of his day.

MONDAY, MARCH 26, 2018 The lady with the artificial foot from Oregon is now moving into the house across from Jon & Carolyn. Glad they have quiet vehicles, though I’m not sure how many people/vehicles live there. There’s a red SUV with Oregon plates and there’s a white SUV with California plates. Earlier there was a Budget rental truck. Same company and size we moved down with back in the summer of 2007.

Went out walking but this time the app didn’t do the greatest job of tracking my route. Tom and I were talking about how cool it would be if people were microchipped. I think it would be way cool if I could see not only the location I was in but the room in that location I was in as well. Our guess is that people will be microchipped someday, be it mandatory or not. Right now people are too paranoid. I guess there are that many people up to no good. But if you’re like us with nothing to hide, then you don’t care who knows where you are. :-)

Although I know I’ve been dreaming, my dreams have been too vague to remember them enough to write about them.

Feeling bad for Aly. I’m worried about both her and my sister. Aly’s white blood cell count is way up and her platelets are low. Her doctor told her not to panic and that some kind of treatment plan could be worked out. Let’s hope so! I would hate for her to be sick no matter what but it would be especially shitty if she wasn’t well enough to visit. She gets low on iron or something like that and it leaves her feeling tired, weak and dizzy.

The older I get, the more I realize just how much aging sucks. Other than the wisdom you acquire, it all sucks shit big-time. 20 years ago I mostly had just the allergies and asthma to deal with. Now I also have a dead thyroid, rashes, shitty vision, thinning hair, gray hair, dry skin, TMJ, a deformed ear that is getting uglier by the minute, a hopelessly fat body, crowns and bridges, a dead libido, and joints that have lost a lot of flexibility. It chills me to think what life may be like in 20 more years!

Things aren’t new and exciting like they once were and you tend to have a bleaker outlook on life when you get older as well. Maybe that’s because we’re smarter and so we’re more realistic. When we’re younger, we don’t quite see the world for what it really is and therefore we see all kinds of endless possibilities. We tend to live in the moment and not worry so much about the future, and when we do worry about the future, it isn’t usually in the way we worry about the future when we’re older.

SUNDAY, MARCH 25, 2018 Ended up having a good day today. I was really worried when I took my meds but everything’s fine. There’s still nothing to say that the Monday/Wednesday/Friday skips will be the answer, but I have to keep doing whatever it takes to figure out exactly how much my body can tolerate. It’s always better to take some medication than none.

We went to Rite Aid earlier and I got a really cool athletic top. It’s bright pink and purple with long sleeves that have thumb loops. It’s great for chilly weather.

Went out by myself earlier and it was cool to see Life360 trace my route, time and distance. I went a mile in 27 minutes. Tom watched my progress but just like when he drives home, it doesn’t track very steadily. We’ll appear to be in the same spot for a few minutes and then it will suddenly dart ahead. So it jumps along in spurts rather than consistently.

I decided to leave the second reply to what I’m almost positive is Maliheh’s negative comment spiting me for teasing her about using her name in my story. I called her out by first name and the fact that there were no sales or loans around the time she left the review and that she ought to email me. :) She won’t though, of course. The gutless little coward wouldn’t dare contact me. I know she’s hoping to build a case against me by not contacting me just like the black bitch did. I guess she figures they wouldn’t check her IP to see if she went to any site I was associated with.

I noticed when I checked the reports the other day that the order in which the books were listed had changed. The same thing happened right before Maliheh left her “review” only there are no new reviews. No sales either. It’s been pretty slow and discouraging lately.

Now that I know lichen planus can get you anywhere, including the mouth, I’m paranoid whenever I get a weird feeling in my mouth and that I’m going to get it on other parts of my body. I read around and some guy said that after using turmeric powder and pills for a couple of months his cleared up and he hasn’t had any problems in years.

I’m going to try this stuff for lichen planus the next time we do an order on Amazon but I doubt it will be much help. I’m just afraid to use the steroid much for fear of burning. I would rather itch than burn because it’s easier to do something about that. Today I took a baby Benadryl and I ended up going down for a nap. I love naps. Just not how they sometimes leave me groggy.

I wish I knew what was making my phone lose its mind. Sometimes it will just start retyping stuff I’ve already written. I guess it sent some weird text to Aly, LOL.

Doesn’t look like the new people have moved in yet after all but one of them may have an artificial foot from what Tom said he saw. What we think was the flipper was there hammering today. I could hear the fucking thing all the way down the street as I was returning from my walk. When Tom was out weed whacking he saw the artificial foot lady and some other woman by a red SUV with Oregon plates.

As we were coming in from Rite Aid I saw a woman walking a Chihuahua up the driveway on the other side of Bob and Virginia. Still not sure if it’s that one, Ray’s mutt, or someone else’s that has the obnoxious bark.

We blew 60 bucks at Rite Aid on fun stuff we don’t need. I got a floral t-shirt dress on a black background, the athletic shirt I mentioned, junk food, and a wind chime with a rainbow-colored flower spinner. First time I ever saw a chime/spinner combo.

Since there’s a form in which I can anonymously send a message to Carol, Kim’s sister, via her dojo site, I started to ask if she wanted me to be an anonymous and concerned person but we agreed to hold off for now because we don’t want to get her in any more trouble. Bad idea and I’m sorry I offered because truthfully, I don’t want to get involved. I’m sorry for her but there’s nothing I can do anyway.

SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 2018 Doing more on my phone lately by setting up things like my Pi music player for running and even downloaded these really cool live wallpapers that look like raindrops are running down the screen, and others that have flying butterflies, running streams and fish swimming in ponds.

I began using Google Docs because that way I can access the same doc from any device. It would be nice to have the option of relaxing on the couch or in bed as I speak out either journal entries or stories rather than always sitting at my desk. Nothing can replace the ease of the laptop, though. It’s much easier to edit on the laptop, and of course, graphics look better with a bigger screen.

One of the cool things about Google Docs is that it has an add-on that puts a rainbow effect in the text making it gradually change colors as you can see here. It looks really cool. I can’t use it on all of my blogs but I can use it on Blogger as well as in Word. Then again, it’s a pain to get into Word.

The medication experiment is going well so far. I felt fine on the two days I skipped. I took it today and started to worry at first when my HR spiked to 108. But then I did have a candy bar so that may have been why. I thought I was going to be in for a bad day but after feeling wound up for just a short time, I was okay. Tomorrow is the big test.

Decided it would be okay to use a little bit of the weaker steroid gel down there just to take the edge off the rash which began picking up again about a week ago, as I figured it eventually would. Rather than use it for months, I’ll just use it for a week or two. That won’t be nearly enough to cause me to have burning and inflammation.

Bad news from Tammy. :-( When she was in the hospital with pneumonia in January they discovered some enlarged lymph nodes in her chest and she’ll have to have a biopsy next month. She was referred to a surgeon for that and will have to spend the night in the hospital in case of bleeding. As if she hasn’t already had enough, she’s still recovering from having the nerves in her neck burned due to the fibromyalgia. She said she had horrible pain and I can just imagine! It hurts just thinking about it that I honestly can’t imagine actually having to have done. She is beyond medically cursed. I would have killed myself dozens of procedures ago.

She let me know that I’m in her thoughts and that we’ll talk sometime because it’s easier for her that way. At first, I wondered why it took her so long to give me an update but I can see where one isn’t in the mood to be very sociable when they don’t feel well.

While I certainly hope that the lymph nodes aren’t cancerous, I know they’ve gotten really good at killing most cancers, so I am at least hopeful that she’ll have options if worse comes to worst.

The only thing that bothers me is that bad feeling I’ve had for a few years now about when she’s 62. Well, she’s going to be 61 in August. Despite my accuracy rate, I’m optimistic that it doesn’t mean anything because I’ve been wrong a couple of times before with similar dreams/feelings. It’s just that I did see the weight loss in my dreams, but who knows? Maybe she’s put it back on or at least some of it. Older people don’t usually keep weight off very easily, after all.

The shitty thing about having nerves burned is that it doesn’t always relieve the pain, and when it does it’s temporary since they do grow back.

THURSDAY, MARCH 22, 2018 I’m way behind in my writing so now I’m going to try to catch up and hope I don’t forget anything. Yesterday was both shitty and good. It was good in that my appointments went well, but it was shitty in that I was very anxious. As much as I hoped and wished otherwise, as no one wants to be intolerant to medication their body needs, especially when there aren’t any other real options, the experiments I’ve been doing really do point to it as being the main culprit. It’s very frustrating and even depressing. I have no idea what I’m going to do about the problem or even what I can do about it. I just don’t have many options. I either take the medication once in a while or stop it altogether unless I can be switched to something else. I’m just not sure what else I could be switched to other than Armour, which may actually increase the anxiety.

I just feel so helpless and hopeless that my thoughts have been turning pretty dark and I’m once again wondering if life is even worth it. I wish I had the positive optimism that Tom has and could believe that this will one day end. After all, I’ve had other long-term problems and they worked themselves out eventually. But this is very different than any other problem I’ve had before, and after what’s been nearly 4 years, I’m losing hope. Maybe I’m just meant to be hypo just like I was meant to be short. It’s too bad I can’t stand that god-awful anxious feeling in my chest, though, because the anxiety diet is the best damn diet ever. But I just don’t want to live to suffer either.

Today I woke up depressed and tired, and I prayed to a God that probably doesn’t exist to take my life if it’s not going to let me get better. I’ve done everything I can think of to try to help myself and I’m running out of ideas. I just feel like any possible solution isn’t going to be a good one in this case. My other problems were a lot more straightforward. This is a very complex issue, however.

The weather matches my mood but at least it’s quiet.

Still torn between moving and staying but I’m afraid to go with him still working and this anxiety issue unresolved, assuming there’s even a way to resolve it. Each year that I have it, the more doubtful I become.

I’m quite calm so far today, which again points to the medication since I skipped today, but very tired and glum. Not only does rainy weather tend to make me feel this way but I almost feel like I have a slight cold. I had a sore throat last night. I’ve had some lung tightness too, but I think that’s more of a weather thing than a medication thing.

It just seems way too extreme for perimenopause or even flares, though I don’t doubt that these things may affect the medication to a small degree. I seriously have doubts that I’ll ever be able to take the medication consistently without issues. Therefore, I’m not left with much choice other than to deprive myself of the medication if nothing else can be done.

I’ve been taking it every other day and yesterday I took it for the second day in a row. I was surprisingly anxious even with all I had going on to distract me and Tom’s presence. It really sucks to have this going on in what is otherwise a good life that I could be enjoying even more than I do. This anxiety has been keeping me from enjoying life to the fullest and I’m getting sick of it. If this is how I have to live for the rest of my life then I don’t know that I want to go on living. I really think this is the one problem that’s not going to get better.

I got up at 6 a.m. yesterday and we left shortly after 11. I waved to Mrs. Twenties on the way out. We then headed for Folsom and of course we got lost because I fucked up the navigation on his phone. So he pulled over by the prison, got it working again, drove under the Johnny Cash Trail, and made it to the dermatologist on time despite the wet rainy roads.

The office was nice and I loved the decor. Lots of beautiful nature pics on the walls. The PA I saw was friendly, prompt, professional and informative. She didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know but recommended Zyrtec when the irritation is bad. As I suspected, lichen planus never goes away on its own. I try to tell myself with the anxiety that nothing lasts forever but then again some things really do change and never do go back to the way they were. This type of rash is one of those cases. She said that it was okay to use hydrocortisone and keep up with the Aquaphor as needed. She said to let them know if I ever have any open wounds that bleed for no reason or that won’t heal because that can be a sign of skin cancer. I guess the Zyrtec is supposed to keep you from getting as drowsy as Benadryl can make you.

So we had an hour and a half to kill after the dermatologist and I then realized I’d totally forgotten to put my designer nails on. The black matte nails with the silver accents. Not only are my nails gross unpolished cuz I have ridges, but Kathleen always checks my nails for the latest design and we kind of have a little game going. So I ran into Target and grabbed a bottle of pink Insta-Dri polish that’s supposed to dry in 60 seconds. I’d say it’s more like 360 seconds but it’s still good stuff. I only needed one coat. Even so, if I didn’t have to spend so much time feeling anxious and worrying about how to deal with anxiety, maybe I wouldn’t be as forgetful.

We got a bite to eat at Sonic where you sit in the car and eat. So no blasting music or screaming kids. Just a couple of loud car stereos but fortunately that was on the road when we were stopped at a light. I did my nails in the car and by the time we finished, it was time to zoom over to the dentist.

Kathleen was so funny. There wasn’t anyone in the waiting room at the time but she was eagerly leaning over the counter with a wide grin on her face as she saw me approach and said something like, “There’s my favorite patient.”

I zoomed up to the counter and she immediately took my hands, complimented my nails and said my hands were so soft, LOL. Then she asked how I was doing and how my writing was going. I told her it was slow because I hadn’t been feeling well. She talks very softly and there was background noise so I can’t quote her on every word she said but she mentioned something about a women’s convention (or was it a seminar?) and she’s “taking me with her.” She said something about it being where they get together and all that and asked if I wanted to come. I have a feeling it’s probably religious or spiritual-based but I’ll try almost anything at least once.

I kind of saw her in a different light now that I know her real age, and yeah, I can kind of see that she’s older. She still looks remarkable for her age and I can see where it’s easy to think she’s around my age if you don’t know any better.

So Michaela and some young girl that she’s training took me to the back of the place where they did an x-ray they did four years ago. That’s where you bite onto a plate, smile, and a camera kind of goes around your head.

I then expected Holly to clean my teeth but she’s on vacation in New Zealand. Michaela told me she just got back from Thailand. A woman named Dora whom I’d never seen before did my teeth and she cleaned them a little differently, using an electric scaler that almost seemed like a mini drill. She had the suction hose in one hand and the scaler in the other.

Realizing that once again my memory had gone to hell, I ran into the waiting room to get my mouthguard from my purse when Dora was done. I commented to Kathleen about my memory going to hell as I was passing through and she said something like, “You’re great, Jodi.”

Yeah, really great.

Then the doctor did the final exam and said everything looked good and she adjusted the mouthguard to fit better over the new crown. She said she could just cut it off if I wanted but I think she adjusted it well enough.

She liked my rat leggings as did the rest of the staff, LOL.

Didn’t get to say goodbye to Kathleen on the way out because she’d left for lunch. I told Michaela to tell her I said goodbye. Now it will be interesting to see if she contacts me before my September 19th appointment and how she handles the news of my schedule issues and driving phobia, though I think she already knows I don’t drive.

We noticed two modern SUVs at the place that just sold and that the sign was down, too. If those were the new owners then I’m relieved that they have quiet vehicles.

In case I haven’t already said so, our azaleas are starting to flower in front and I noticed a few days ago that the trees are budding their leaves as well.

More to write about, including dreams, but I’ll do it in another entry. I’m just way too tired today.

Later…

Tom’s home and in bed now and I’m definitely feeling better than I did at the start of my day. If I didn’t know any better I would swear I was bipolar, LOL. I woke up to rain and tears, but now it’s sunshine and peace. Well, it is getting dark now.

I got to “spy” on him earlier. I told him yesterday that it would be nice to activate the GPS on our phones so we could always know where each other was in case anything were to ever happen. So we installed Life360 which is an app that will keep track of everywhere you go unless you go somewhere without the phone, of course. That way, if he were ever on his way home and appeared to be in the same spot for too long, this would tell me something was up. The absolute worst-case scenario would be the thing telling me he was in the hospital if he got into an accident but at least I would know.

I don’t take my phone with me when I go running. I take my old phone to play music on but maybe I’ll start taking this one. It would be good to have a phone I could call out on in the event of an emergency, and that way if he wanted to know how close or far I was from home, for example, when he wanted to go to bed or something, he could see if it was worth waiting up for me. It would also be cool to track anywhere I may go with Kathleen.

The dentist and I agreed that if I ever have a problem again, we would just fill it or pull it. Even though we could afford to pay for the crowns ourselves, it’s a bit rough for me to go through anyway. I just wonder what the damn insurance companies are going to drop next! I worry about them dropping spousal coverage with the way America is so independence-obsessed. They want everyone to do everything on their own and so I worry they’re going to be like, if your spouse wants to be insured then they need to get their own job.

I watched him make his way home and at first, I was confused because it looked like he was circling around the same area. I was like, what the hell is he doing? Well, as he’s told me before, he has to walk across a huge parking lot to get to his car. He works in Rocklin and I could see him pass by Kathleen in Roseville and then finally Citrus Heights/Sac.

As I was looking with dismay (not that I haven’t known this for nearly 5 years) at just how close we are to the Eisenhower freeway, the answer to my question as to why I hear so many damn planes was clear when I spotted the Sacramento McClellan airport nearby.

My lungs were tight most of the day but since I do have an inhaler and that’s one of the very few things I can use without side effects, I took a puff and it helped relax my lungs. Love how it has a counter. I’ve only taken one puff so I have 204 left. Would have been nice if they had counters when I was on them regularly in the ‘90s.

Tom’s shoulder is still bothering him so he ordered a sling from Amazon and I got a couple more boxes of Amberen.

The new mugs are nice and I love the new kettle. It not only looks nicer in person but instead of a whistle, it makes a 2-toned horn sound that’s kind of cool. It’s different. You would think someone was leaning on their car horn.

Aly’s not doing well either. While she was told that she may have some bleeding she’s got a kick-ass period going now and is afraid the Novasure didn’t work. Therefore, her hematologist ordered her for a blood test tomorrow. Her lab numbers were better than she thought, though, so that much is good. But she still has skin issues and dizzy spells.

Plus, Kim has been texting and messaging her a million times with the same old shit and I guess Kim got mad at her because she’s not around as much. That’s because she’s been blowing her off as Aly feels she’s not only selfish but she’s frustrated with dealing with someone who can’t remember shit, isn’t as innocent as she lets on, and doesn’t seem to want to do much to help herself. I haven’t heard as much from Kim myself and I’m okay with that for those very reasons. I feel bad for her family situation and I know that she has limitations as well as physical and mental disabilities beyond her control, but some things she could control more if she wanted to. The damn memory issues get annoying. I had enough of that with Andy. Bottom line… I always did warm Aly that Kim never has been and never will be a true friend. She has little to no empathy, intelligence or understanding. She lives in her own fuzzy little bubble of delusion and believes she can do no wrong even though she offhandedly has admitted to lying. She’s very contradicting and hypocritical as well.

Got to admit it’s kind of funny how I would follow their tweets when neither one was in touch with me and I would wonder why Aly would choose Kim over me. Yet now, instead of her bitching to Kim about me, it’s her bitching to me about Kim. Funny how life turns out at times.

Okay, I may still not have remembered everything I wanted to write about, but now I’ll get to the last two nights of dreams and call myself caught up enough.

I was living in a house that seemed to have bedrooms on both ends of the house. I walked out of the living room which was in the center of the house and down a short hallway to a bedroom at the end of it. I noticed a shoe in the hallway and that the closet door in the bedroom was open. This told me that a burglar was present and I doubled back through the living room and into another bedroom to look for shoes to run outside in. But none of the shoes that were in a small pile on the floor seemed to fit. Then Tom entered from a door leading to a basement. The dream ended as I stepped back into the living room and saw him. I swear someone else was standing at the end of the hallway, too. Sure hope this wasn’t a glimpse into a parallel life!

The worst dream that woke me up was the giant spider that didn’t look like a spider. Its body was elongated and it was covered in this grayish-white fir. I was outdoors on the ground playing with a cat when I glanced over and saw the thing nearby. I thought that I better spray the bastard because that was the second time I’d seen it. Then it crawled right over to me and the cat. Instead of jumping up and running, I was literally frozen in fear and that’s when I woke up.

Then Tom and I were invited to Bob and Virginia’s for dinner in the last dream I remember having the night before the dentist. I went to say something and it started to come out a little too loud at the same instant I accidentally bumped the edge of my plate which caused one side of it to bounce an inch or two on the table. This left me a bit embarrassed, haha.

In last night’s dream, I was hanging out by myself in some old trailer. The trailer was parked near water and when I looked outside one of the windows I could see the moonlight reflecting on the water.

Then I was looking out the window of this place at someone’s mutt barking at 1:30 in the morning. That better not ever fucking happen!

Lastly, I was in the backseat of a car that some guy was driving. Next to him was a large woman who was in her 30s or 40s. She had blonde hair pulled up in a bun. The guy was driving her to work and I was to accompany her that day and I guess help her out or something. He parked by a river or stream and he jokingly made like he was going to zoom right into it before he hit the brakes and brought the car to a stop. I asked if the water was cold and he said, “Hell, yeah.”

TUESDAY, MARCH 20, 2018 Being that I love to learn things, I browse educational videos at times on YouTube, and one of the most interesting videos I watched recently was one on how to spot liars by their body language, the way they say things, etc. I’ve known of several of these tactics for a while now but it was cool to learn even more. We all lie so I don’t mind white lies every now and then as long as they aren’t too often. But yeah, when someone asks me how I’m doing, I will sometimes say “fine” even if I may be feeling anxious or pissed off about something. So everybody lies to a degree. Once a person gets to the gray lies, however, I seriously start re-evaluating my friendship with them. Let’s just say that they better have a good excuse for going gray on me! Once they go black on me, though, forget it. I’m gone.

Doing loud projects during the daytime is annoying. Doing them into the evening is rude. Yes, sometimes I get sick of certain things, including chasing after those who obviously don’t want to keep in touch. I’ve waited on Tammy long enough and now I’m wondering how long it will take her to admit she doesn’t want me in her life.

10 minutes Bowflexing, 15 minutes walking outdoors, 20 minutes treadmilling. Why can’t I always be this consistent? Well, I was yesterday but today I’m deliberately taking a break. I was up 18 hours and unable to fall asleep until after 10 PM. Then I didn’t quite sleep 8 hours so I’m a little tired today. Exercise gives you energy and I would prefer to keep at least somewhat non-energetic so that I can sleep better tonight, get caught up, and feel rested for my two appointments tomorrow.

It’s supposed to rain for the rest of the week so the guys working on Geri’s place until nearly 7 PM should be giving me a break from the hammering and sawing for a while.

I talked to the “Twenties” yesterday while they were quietly working out front. I joked about having the rats dig up and loosen their soil for them. They don’t know who bought the house across from them, they liked my sparkly shoes, and they’re having weekend company from Delmar for a wedding. I’m sure I’ll hear every single car door slam, too. I just hope the hell they’re not staying in an RV on the street!

I now have 170 followers on Pinterest and another royalty payment coming. :-)

I still get random PMS symptoms but no periods or spotting, so maybe the dream I had a while back did mean something. But sometimes I’ll get really bitchy for no reason or start retaining enough water to fill the Sacramento River until my bladder throws a piss party like it did last night…at the very end of my day of course.

I took the baby Benadryl when I was anxious over the weekend and it didn’t seem to calm me down or make me drowsy. Took one last night when Sleepytime tea wouldn’t even knock me out and then I did fall asleep. I don’t know if I would have fallen asleep anyway or the Benadryl knocked me out because I was tired.

I took my meds today and was worried that I wouldn’t be anxious, but 3.5 hours later I’m still calm. If I can get to around noon, I’m golden. :-) 75 mcg a day comes to 525 a week. 50 mcg is 350 a week. Skipping every other day, which is about 37 mcg a week, is 260 a week. My new medication plan is to skip every Monday and Thursday, which will be 375 a week. I’m hoping to hell this will FINALLY stop the anxiety from biting in the first place when I go flaring.

Aly said her hematologist dropped her and wouldn’t return her calls and she doesn’t know why, so she had to get a new one. I wonder if A will drop me in June but a part of me hopes she will because then I have an excuse to get someone that not only may be more helpful and willing to work with me instead of against me, but that’s closer as well.

My hairline is noticeably thinner no doubt due to age and my thyroid, but when I read that Rogaine can cause chest pain, swelling, and a rapid heartbeat, I decided I’d rather go bald. I don’t have any bald spots but the hair is very thin. It seems to have thinned more after dying it so that probably has a role in it as well.

Last night I dreamed that Bob, who pulled an old charger from a shelf in his kitchen that had old albums on it, handed it to me and said not to be surprised if it didn’t work. Then it was as if I was inside his place in the living room where I could hear him snoring from his bedroom. I wondered where Virginia was and then I realized she was probably in bed with him.

Then I dreamed that Tom and I were getting into a car on a steep grassy mountain. Some car whose parking breaks failed started to roll erratically down the hill. I was urging Tom to hurry up and beat it down the hill before it had a chance to crash into us rather than wait and see where it ended up first.

Then I was walking on a street at night. I just turned the corner when I heard a loud vehicle approaching and hoped it wouldn’t turn down the street I was on because it was so loud. A split second later I was indoors at Aly’s place. She spotted me with no pants or underwear on and I was embarrassed at the thought of her thinking I shave my pubes, for some reason, when it only looks that way because body hair thins with age. Tom and I were getting ready to move there.

Then I picked up a voice message from Andy who was wondering why I hadn’t returned his calls. Realizing I been so busy with the upcoming move to Nebraska, I made a mental note to call him right away.

MONDAY, MARCH 19, 2018 Skipped my meds today and am starting to feel better. Sadly, my anxiety issues still point to either a direct connection to the meds or an indirect connection fueled by flare-ups. This means I may be worse tomorrow when I take my meds. Just because I feel okay now (not great but okay) doesn’t mean I may not feel worse later, however. I still want my thyroid removed, my dose lowered, or both. I just worry that A isn’t going to be willing to work with me and help me, thus forcing me into the pain in the ass of having to get another doctor. If worse comes to worst maybe I’ll see Tom’s doctor. He’s a guy, but being both male and Muslim, there’s never any waiting time. He’s also closer.

A guy who follows me on PB said a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar a day can help regulate cholesterol levels. I looked this up and that is listed as one of the health benefits of apple cider vinegar, but since I can’t drink the stuff straight up, I’ve added a tablespoon to my bottled water.

Aly had a shitty weekend between eczema, anemia, and an allergic reaction to something. She said she has to use a medicated body wash and is on what’s called a broad-spectrum antibiotic.

Tammy still hasn’t called and I’m through chasing after those who obviously don’t want to keep in touch. I don’t know if she’s fucking with me or if she’s got some seriously heavy-duty shit going on in her life, but as Tom pointed out, Tammy always thinks there’s drama going on. That’s just how she is. Oh, well. She isn’t going to die anytime soon. She would have told me if she was.

I wonder if, whenever she dies, it will hit the girls nearly a fraction of how hard their bastard father hit them when he died. Sure enough, I decided to check Becky’s wall to see if maybe she’s finally been able to move on at least a little, but sure enough, there’s a picture of her forearm with her new daddy tat. Would there be a mommy tat if Tammy died? Somehow I doubt it.

Tom is thinking of taking a week off in May. He may get his appointment moved up to the same week I have my ENT appointment and take that whole week off. That way we can do the second mural we want to do in the living room, maybe have the oven delivered then, and decide what to do about the roof.

Yesterday was surprisingly quiet but today I expect it to be pretty noisy as people get as much landscaping done in what may be the only day they can do it this week. It’s going to be raining from Tuesday on.

Last night I dreamed I was dragging a cardboard box with something wet in it that was leaking out of it towards the front door of Stacey’s house, only Stacey’s house was a big two-story house. When I opened the front door there were several wide cement steps leading up to the place and a fairly busy street about 50’ away. Some guy in a pickup slowed down and called something out to me.

Then there was something about Kathleen and my dentist but I’m not sure what.

Then I was asking Tom to evaluate my various body parts and he said he could see the muscle in my shoulders and abs but my legs looked flabby.

Now I’m going to go catch up on Bubbly before it gets noisy. Not sure if I’m going to keep copying links from there because it’s not like I’m ever going to want to go back and listen to what I said way back when. At least I don’t think I would.

SUNDAY, MARCH 18, 2018 We had to cancel the flower tea kettle because FedEx damaged it en route and then the seller, a drop shipper, ran out of them. Instead, I’m getting this cute pink flamingo kettle. It’s safe for gas stoves and I like whistling kettles, which is what it is.

I also couldn’t resist this adorable set of rainbow mugs I got a great deal on in which the rims are a different color on each one. There’s purple, blue, orange, red, green and yellow.

Finished Law & Order’s 18th year and now I’m watching the pilot of Seven Seconds. I’m liking it despite the fact that as usual, race has to be involved.

Yesterday we dyed my hair. It’s now long enough that it takes two kits, but would probably only need one if it was women’s dye. It’s a little darker than I’d like but better than gray.

Went to Walmart early yesterday morning and got black gemstone flip-flops with a slight heel, plus he got some black canvas shoes for himself. I’ve been wearing the same flip-flops for a few years now so variety is nice and black goes with everything.

Recently, I had been bitching about all the projects around here and said that next, Lawrence will die or sell his place. Well, the paramedics were there yesterday. They were there for several minutes but I didn’t actually see anyone get taken out, so I don’t know what happened. I just know it would really suck for that place to turn over while we were still here being so close to the bedroom. It wouldn’t be as bad as Bob and Virginia but more worrisome than the Twenties and Trisha.

Started copying my Bubbly voice post links into a Word doc file and backing them up on PB as well. This way I can quickly access the older ones if I wanted to, instead of having to scroll and scroll forever.

Skipped yesterday’s dose and I’m starting to feel better. I had caffeinated tea instead of caffeinated coffee when I got up, too.

Still nothing from Tammy. She’s either playing with me or she’s got something really serious going on with her or maybe it’s on Mark. I don’t know until she decides to take the time she takes to check in to Facebook to check in with me. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not good. She rarely has any good news. That’s just how she’s always been. And when she does have good news it tends to be exaggerated just like her bad news is.

Tom’s bad news is his shoulder injury. He thought it was his elbow at first but then he Googled his symptoms and found that it actually stems from his shoulder and is similar to the sciatic nerve injury he had. Icing it helps but it’s otherwise “so painful you could cut my arm off and I wouldn’t even notice,” he says.

Last night I dreamed I was lying on a gurney or table in an exam room somewhere. A woman I assume was a nurse, placed a hand in the center of my chest and said she felt clogged arteries in that area. Although I’m sure the dream meant nothing, it’s still not a thrilling dream for a dream premonitioner to have.

Then Tom and I were country-living again in the next dream in a house that we seemed to own, but first, I was at a buffet with someone loading up on all kinds of stuff. A guy behind the counter was talking about alcoholic drinks with the word rainbow in its name, so of course I was suddenly interested even though I almost never drink, LOL. But instead of getting the rainbow drink, I was home a split second later. It seemed to be a long ranch-style house I was in and I was looking out the front window for the pizza delivery I was expecting. I guess I was really hungry that night. The land around us seemed deserty with clumps of sage and a landscape that sort of slanted upwards as the sun was just about to dip below the horizon off in the distance.

When I looked out front I saw two cars had arrived and knew one was the pizza and the other was Tom. I had Alexa turn off the music I had playing before running to pull cash for the food out of my purse. I thought I was grabbing tens but instead, I grabbed single dollar bills in frustration just as Tom entered the place.

FRIDAY, MARCH 16, 2018 Here we go again with the woodpecker that ONLY we hear. Yeah, I knew it would be starting up anytime now. This is the time of year they get more active. So now I’ll have to listen to this shit regularly for months.

Tom thinks the Amberen nurse is lying about me possibly being sensitive to the synthetic version of my medication because it’s her job to sell Amberen and therefore she would blame other things for my symptoms. I’m still going to bring up the possibility to my doctor, but if that’s the case, it should be illegal for people to have what’s supposed to be real nurses lying to people.

After taking my meds, sure enough, I got anxious and I’ve been having waves of anxiety on and off for the last 9 hours. So since Tom was home I took a Benadryl and that did help, but like most things, it only helped for a while. It made me really drowsy and caused me to nap for about an hour. I’m getting baby Benadryl to see if that will still help, even if it’s only a temporary fix, but without knocking me out.

Words can’t express how hopeless I feel right now. I really don’t think I’m ever going to return to me as I’d always known me to be before 2014 when this shit started. I just can’t believe that the problem will ever go away no matter what I do. I’m totally losing hope. This is the new me for life just like I got fat and that was the new me for life and I got farsighted and that was the new me, and so on and so forth. But there’s no fucking way I can live with this for another 20-30 years. Just no fucking way.

I am totally tempted to have Doc A refill my lorazepam and drink down the whole bottle and be done with this suffering forever, even if there may be an afterlife that’s a million times worse. It’s just that I’m a seriously gutless person either way. I don’t have the guts to go on and I don’t think I could ever muster up the guts to kill myself unless I lost Tom, and even then, who knows? Maybe I would be such a chickenshit that I would allow myself to starve in the streets or commit a crime so I could have food and shelter in jail. But yeah, this shit is really zapping my will to live. And instead of adapting, it just drives me crazier the longer I suffer. I don’t understand why I can adapt easily to some things while other things I can never get used to. I can’t get used to noise, I can’t get used to sleeping through noise, and I sure as hell can’t get used to feeling anxious. And I thought dwelling on us growing old and dying was the worst of my problems. I wish it was! I wish my TMJ, teeth, skin, noise or money were my worst problems. Even the fucking shitsters down in Arizona didn’t have me feeling so bad. When I would become overwhelmed with “anxiety” from having to stay in the 4-man cell; that still didn’t compare to this.

It would make it a whole lot easier on me if I could know for sure that this shit would stop upon reaching full-blown menopause. But you know what? I have a bad feeling it’s not going to be that easy. Especially since I would think I should be awfully close by now with only one period in nine months, even if the last one was only a few months ago. Even if there’s a connection, I still think the problem lies within the medication and or flares. Well, I can’t stop the medication and I can’t stop flaring. So where does that leave me? Trapped. That’s where.

I finally heard from Tammy who said she’ll be calling to let me know what’s going on, but you know what? I don’t want to hear it. I know it’s going to be the same old negative stuff about her health, and it’s not like I don’t care or empathize, but our chats are always about her health. It’s very hard for me to get a word in edgewise. If I didn’t say anything about my own life, she would ask little to no questions about me. It’s like how Aly gets frustrated with Kim. It’s all about her suffering.

It rained all night which kept the planes out of the sky. It’s not raining at the moment but it’s very wet out there.

I only remember a couple of quick dreams last night. Glimpses into parallel lives? Again, I wonder about this. I was walking along a snowy street in one dream. It wasn’t snowing at the moment but there were several inches on the ground. I glanced to my left and passed a few people hanging out talking but what may’ve been apartments. I got the impression I wasn’t in a great neighborhood with great people either.

I also dreamed that I was pulling some old dolls out of a box and setting them up somewhere.

THURSDAY, MARCH 15, 2018 Written Wednesday morning:

Even though I’m tired I want to document my discussion with a nurse at the makers of Amberen while it’s still fresh in my mind. I had mild anxiety throughout most of my day and then it got really bad. Sleepytime tea, Ibuprofen, emotional tapping… nothing was helping. Nothing. It would start to seem like it was backing off but then I would have waves of anxiety going through my chest. No racing heart, though.

I was sitting at my desk when I casually glanced at the box of Amberen sitting on it and the toll-free number written on the box. So I called and pressed the option for speaking to a nurse and told her that Amberen has relieved all my perimenopausal symptoms except for anxiety. She was surprised, saying that that’s usually the first symptom people find relief from. Then she said she suspected the cause of my anxiety may not be the hormonal fluctuations. This is when I told her that I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s and put on Levothyroxine 4 years ago. She asked me if my thyroid levels could be off and I told her they were a little high because if I take enough medication to get my numbers normal, I have epic levels of anxiety. She then said I could be sensitive to the medication. I told her that’s exactly what my gut feeling has always told me and that I never had a problem with anxiety until I was put on anything above 50 mcg. I told her that my doctor told me it was the same stuff our bodies made anyway and she didn’t think it was the medication. At that point, she laughed and said they love to say that because that’s what they’re advocating; that medication. Also, she admitted that she wasn’t a doctor and was sure my doctor would disagree with her but that my doctor was welcome to call them anytime. She also pointed out that while it may be the same stuff our bodies make, it’s still a synthetic version and so the body can react to it differently. The more I thought about this the more it made sense because no matter what great kinds of chemicals we may come up with, nothing can replace the real thing. It’s like baby formula. It can’t quite duplicate breast milk, can it?

She said I should really advocate for myself and get the issue addressed once and for all if I think the medication could be the problem. Oh, I definitely plan to advocate, all right. I’ve had enough of this fucking bullshit cycle year after year. Not saying I don’t have flareups or peri, but I think if I never had to go on this medication in the first place, I would find that I had little to no anxiety from the peri. Just the timing and the intensity of this shit is enough to indicate it’s tied to the medication. It wasn’t until they raised my dose that I started having these problems and it just seems way too intense to be on the peri. I need to be cut back or put on something else. I wasn’t on 50 mcgs for long and while it’s possible I could still have a problem on that after a while if I’m that sensitive to the synthetic version, I don’t think I would. Yes, my TSH will be in the teens on 50s, but before I was diagnosed and medicated it was in the 30s and I didn’t have anxiety. I tell you, it’s the meds. Another thing that points to the meds is that in the summer of 2016, the doctor told me I still had good estrogen. Well, if perimenopausal anxiety is caused by falling estrogen levels, then why have I been anxious since 2014? I was showing some symptoms then like some hot flashes, sleep disturbances, and periods that were becoming irregular. Tom says there are more hormones involved than just estrogen and I know this is true, so maybe I did really go into peri while I still had good estrogen. Sure felt like it started coming on around 2014.

Then she asked if I was waiting 4 hours to take the Amberen, which confirmed that she really knew what she was talking about because most people don’t know that you should wait 4 hours after the medication before you take even something like Amberen. Nothing should ever be taken with Levothyroxine except for painkillers and only if necessary.

I’m definitely going to start skipping doses more often to ward off the anxiety from setting in in the first place. I think the only reason I was doing better last fall was that I had gotten so fed up with the anxiety last summer that I started skipping every other day for two or three weeks and it took a while for my levels to build back up when I started taking it more often. I don’t want to do anything extreme and quit the medication altogether because my body still needs this hormone. There’s no need to be so black-and-white about it. All I’m saying is that I can’t take 75 or more anymore. It’s simply too much for my body no matter what anyone says and no matter what their fucking numbers say. Furthermore, the only way to find out for sure if I’m right is to actually lower the damn dose for a good 6 months or so and see how I do. If I’m still anxious then I’ll have no problem with admitting and accepting that I was wrong, and then take it from there. I can’t keep suffering like this year after year. It’s too much for me. Sooner or later it’s going to drive me to do something stupid if it doesn’t let up and I don’t want that either. It is a horrible, HORRIBLE way to live. It’s scary as hell. They say our gut feeling is usually correct. If my gut feeling says it’s on the medication, then it probably is, with or without flare-ups and perimenopause in the picture. Maybe in a few years I can tolerate this dose without issue, but I don’t think so. I just want to worry about right now anyway, not what might be the case in a few years. And right now I can’t tolerate this dose and it needs to be lowered or some other alternative needs to be implemented.

There is absolutely nothing going on in my life that should make me even remotely stressed out let alone anxious as hell. I may be annoyed by noise and other little nuisances like that in life, but there is absolutely no reason I should feel this way. Well, I’ve had enough! When my life was shitty prior to 2012 and I was stressing over money and our day-to-day survival, I STILL didn’t feel this way. Go into my pre-2014 journals and see how often you can find the word “anxiety.”

I forgot that I got Benadryl to act as the new Lorazepam but I might not have had the guts to take it had I remembered it. That’s the thing about anxiety… Everything becomes scary.

Tom thinks the peri is causing flareups because I still had anxiety the other day after a couple of skips, but that’s the thing about Levothyroxine… It takes months to leave the body. The shit’s still in my system. But I do get better overall when I back off.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother living. I could ask my doctor for a Lorazepam refill, down it all, and never wake up again just to have to deal with one long-term crisis after another for the rest of my life as I’ve always done. Believe me, it’s a tempting idea at times. I don’t need this shit and Tom doesn’t need it either. I almost wish I could ditch doctors altogether. I went to them 4 years ago and all they’ve done is make me worse. The foot doctor did get rid of my ingrown toenail, and my GYN helped me if only a little, but otherwise they made me worse, not better.

IDK, maybe there is something up there and this is its way of saying hey, I made you hypo for a reason, and this is the way it’s forcing me to be the hypo I was meant to be. But then why can others tolerate this drug without any issues? Why is it always me that has to have the problems? Being hypo is very annoying but it didn’t kill me, and if worst comes to worst and that’s what I have to be again, it won’t kill me this time around either. But you know what? I’d rather something - anything - kill me than let me live to suffer. Can’t take thyroid meds, can’t take statins… I get it, God. You want me to suffer. But it’s my life and my body and I say no more! I’m done with this shit and if death is the only way to stop the suffering, so be it. First I’m going to start with hoping a lower dosage is the answer. If not, I’ll decide what to do then. But I’m not going to keep suffering on and off year after year from what ranges from a horrible sense of irrational unease to downright terror. Hell, I even called Tom and told him about my chat with the nurse.

My own sister and nieces have been ghosting me and I wonder why. They’ve been pulling a Maliheh on me more and more. I’ve asked Tammy several times what the tests were for and what the results were when she told me on the 25th of last month that she was having a bunch of tests done, and she’s completely blown off my Facebook messages as well as the email I sent and the message I tagged her in on my wall. So what’s up? Because I’m not a God fan? Won’t forgive certain family members? Wish they would either tell me to fuck off or just tell me what the hell’s really going on.

Anyway, the rain kept it quiet yesterday but then we had a little bit of a dry spell in which the planes promptly began to make up for lost time. We’ve got to be in a flight path.

Took the 6 citrus teas over to next-door, and later slept shittily. Yes, something is always determined to fuck with my sleep. If it isn’t traffic, it’s something else. This time around it was ferociously loud thunder and then Alexa rebooting.

Aly had that Novasure procedure done yesterday and there were issues with her blood pressure, so she had to go to the hospital for a while. She said she was so sorry she wasn’t there for me after seeing my tweet about the anxiety, but I told her I know she’s there for me even when she can’t be.

Going through journals reminded me to check jail inmates again for the first time in a while, as I think I recently mentioned. When I found that Jailhouse Kim was in yet again for what’s got to be at least the fourth time, I couldn’t resist fucking with her so I sent her a letter saying that her friend contacted me on Facebook and asked that I send her a little “inspiration.” Yeah, go ahead, God, if you exist, and punish me. You make me suffer when I behave so why not for sending someone a letter that is no doubt going to shock them and make them wonder who the hell I am, even if she may have a good idea. I reminded her that she chose crime over her kids because I know it will really get to her, and while I appreciated the help she gave me to break me into jail life, I always resented her as well. She would be correct if she said I wouldn’t have the guts to say that to her face in person. Not with commissary and visitation to lose I wouldn’t. I also asked her what life with Jodi Arias was like, pointed out how much she must love prison if she keeps going back to it, mentioned some inmates I used to know (some of whom are there), and said a few weird things to keep her guessing and wondering. I wish I had an invisible camera embedded in the letter so I could see and hear her reaction when she gets and reads it. LOL

Even though I didn’t do anything illegal, I didn’t put a return address on and I didn’t leave any physical evidence, although I did address it by hand. I wonder if she got and saved my first letter? That way she can compare handwriting if she wants to. Kim may be a loser who would rather be in prison than deal with the real world, but she is intelligent. I wonder if she wonders if I’ll write her every time she’s hauled into prison. Yeah, maybe, haha.

I also wonder if she sees Rosa but I doubt it. I think Rosa is in something called the Santa Cruz Unit. The beggar is in the Lumley Unit. Pretty sure that’s where Jodi is.

Last night I dreamed I pierced my nose six times with these little tiny studded earrings, LOL. I did a group of three on the right lower side of my nose and then I somehow managed to do another group of three on the upper left side of my nose toward my eye. As I studied all the little studs in the mirror, I wondered if I should mention it to Tom when he got home or see how long it would take him to notice. Then I thought he might be worried that some were “too close to my brain.”

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 14, 2018 It’s a rainy night tonight as I begin to enjoy the awesome and huge variety of tea I got today. Half are decaf, half aren’t. I’m having eggnog tea now. I’ve got every flavor imaginable. I like black tea but I don’t know if I’m going to like the green tea. Green tea can make me nauseous.

I read on my box of Sleepytime tea that it has 25 mg of valerian root, and when I looked up valerian root pills online, I found that the average dose is 500 mg. I was shocked because I would think that if 25 mg can relax me as it does then 500 might send me right into a coma. A couple of people said the opposite, though, and that it made their hearts race. No way I’m messing with pills unnecessarily.

Not impressed with the honey sticks I got. I thought you stirred them into the tea and that they dissolved as you stirred them but apparently not. They’re like little straws and you have to snip the ends and pour the honey out.

My new sweatpants fit better being a smaller size and now all I’m waiting on is my beautiful tea kettle.

That strange vibration in my head is back again and a quick check said it’s menopause or Parkinson’s. I think I can guess which one it is.

I have what I believe are three different types of dreams. Reflection dreams based on what’s going on in my life, glimpses into possible parallel lives, and messages/dream premonitions. I don’t know if the right word is psychic, intuitive, or whatever. I just really wish the bad dreams/vibes would stop. Tammy’s giving me horrible vibes and then I dreamed something about feeling the need to get out of the state while I still could, like I would get sick or something bad would happen to me if I didn’t get out as soon as I could. I don’t know if someone was telling me this, or I just had this feeling, or I had a dream that I dreamed this.

At least Irene got to visit in my dreams. :-) I entered the kitchen as she was doing something by the sink and in German, she said there wasn’t any more milk. I replied in German saying that there would be more in the morning.

TUESDAY, MARCH 13, 2018 Aly thanked me a million times for telling her about emotional tapping, saying that it helped her a lot when she felt like she was going to panic. The poor thing sleeps shitty and has to take a medication that makes her nauseous even with another medication to help combat that. Next week she’ll return to the lab to see if it helped. I hope so. I know she doesn’t want to have to have a transplant.

I also hope that the dream I had last night doesn’t mean anything. It really sucked! Tom and I lived in a two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment that was in the middle of a strip of apartments all on one floor. The place was smallish and I could see it in vivid detail. There was only one entry door. You walked into the kitchen and then you stepped through a doorway to the right and into the living room. Then down the hallway at the opposite end of the living room was a bathroom to the left, then a bedroom, and then a larger bedroom straight ahead at the end of the hall.

There was a storm going on or something because all of a sudden I was standing in the living room and it was dark like the lights had gone out or something. There may have been a small dog in the room as I made my way to the door to look for Tom, whose voice I thought I just heard. When I opened the door and glanced outside, the wind was gushing unlike anything I’d ever felt before and I was now worried about him. It was very dark out and I couldn’t see anything or anyone anywhere. I was tempted to step out and look for him but I knew that our door would lock behind me if I did, plus I was barefoot. I woke up as I went to get my shoes on.

And then I also had snippets of dreams that only lasted a second or two. Something about Linda Ronstadt having medication on her bed for a yeast infection when we were in her house.

Next, I was hanging out with a few black people and one of them wanted me to call someone on a young black girl’s behalf. I was afraid to make the call in front of others, though, who were coming and going because I didn’t want them to think I was trying to get her in any kind of trouble.

Then I was watching a group of adults remove seatbelts from some kids that had arrived nearby in a small bus, suggesting they may have been disabled or something.

I loved having Tom working at home on the conference call last night. Sometimes I wonder if I would feel better if he worked at home during the night, slept during the morning, and maybe went in in the afternoon for a few hours like he did today. But then anxiety is anxiety and I can have flareups anytime, anywhere, with anyone around… or not. Felt great yesterday and so far today but I’m having my precautionary Sleepytime tea to see if that helps keep the anxiety from setting in in the first place.

I’m trying a new cleaning schedule to see if that helps me be more thorough. I hate dusting so much that I tend to cut corners, go too fast, and blow off dusting certain sections. This way, instead of going through the whole house in four days every other week, I clean something every day but just a small section at a time, ending up with the same sections every other week.

Andy has always been into multiple accounts much like Kim and Aly, so if he really wanted to see what he could see of my Facebook account, all he has to do is look in from another account… and find my link to Curious Cat. Well, someone anonymously slipped me a video of a black man giving another black man a verbal beating. Instinctively, I thought of Andy right away. It came at a time when I knew he would be up, too. When I jumped on the main feed, though, I could see that someone else got the same video, which bumped my doubt up a notch. Still might’ve been him, but if it was, why now? Plus, he’d probably be more likely to choose a video of whites defending blacks or blacks picking on whites to make a point. Oh, I remember those little “statement” pics. He was such a black lover and defender.

It’s raining today so I’m hoping that that will keep things quiet until I go to bed which should be around noon. It got up to 72 degrees again yesterday but I still slept well. In fact, I slept better than I did on Sunday because I didn’t wake up as much. I just had that shitty dream.

I feel totally ghosted by Tammy and the girls and I feel like they don’t really want me in their lives. I don’t know what the hell’s going through their minds for sure or what’s going on in their daily lives. I only know how I feel. I know Tammy’s got to be getting my messages. The question is… if she can take the time to check in, why not the time to make a quick reply more often? It’s almost like she gets off on having me wait on her like Maliheh did more and more before she ghosted me altogether. Not saying that they’re going to do that to me, but it’s like they’re trying to keep me at arm’s length. I know I should be okay with that and see the good in it because that way there’s less risk for potential conflict as opposed to if we were always around each other and in touch more often, but I feel like something’s going on that they’re not telling me. Sometimes I wonder if Tammy’s health is a lot worse than she wants to admit but I don’t think so. She loves to whine to others about her health. She’s also quick to let someone know when she has a problem with them, so that’s why neither theory makes sense. She’s playing with me or there’s something else up that I don’t know about.

I think I’m going to stay off Facebook altogether (I’m not into it anyway) and see how she reacts. Hello if someone messages me because I get notifications by phone. Like I would try to get myself to do with Nane and Maliheh, it’s time to make her wait on me.

MONDAY, MARCH 12, 2018 I’m actually typing this instead of using speech-to-text so I don’t disturb Tom’s meeting. Yeah, this is kinda fun, LOL. He’s being paid hundreds of dollars just to sit in on a business meeting via Skype. The original plan was for him to go in and work for about 4 hours. This is the first time he’s ever gone in on a Sunday that I can remember. When I got up to find he still wasn’t home at almost 7:00, I was a bit worried, though not alarmed. I figured there was some trouble with the system upgrade they’ve been implementing at work. So I logged into Skype and sure enough, that’s what was up. He didn’t get in till 10:00 and an hour later he’s still working on his business laptop and on Skype with half a dozen others trying to fix their problems. I guess no one’s going to bed tonight, LOL.

So with the combination of valerian root, his presence, and a peaceful night other than the planes, I’m in a much better mood than yesterday. Yeah, sorry about that but everything was getting to me yesterday and sometimes you just need to pitch a fit, be it verbally, in print, or whatever. With nothing to say there’s a lifespan to Hashimoto’s flareups like perimenopause has a lifespan, it can really give me a bleak outlook on things at times. I had been doing so much better with the anxiety, too.

It’s one of those things that when I feel good, that’s just it… I feel good. But when I don’t, things can often seem hopeless, leaving me feeling stuck and helpless. When I think of those who say that God helps those that help themselves I want to shove this wad of gum I’m chewing up their noses as that’s just a total crock, if there even is a God. I’ve been trying to figure this out for nearly 4 years now. However, I think I should pay more attention to the Ibuprofen/valerian thing. They do seem to help a bit. Maybe not as much as I’d like but I guess some help is better than none. I haven’t felt bad enough to reach for Ibuprofen the last couple of days, but Sleepytime tea is a real blessing. I was “bad” yesterday too, by indulging in sugary treats and an extra cup of coffee. I had just one cup today and am avoiding sugar and cholesterol as much as possible. My “un-statined” body doesn’t need the extra cholesterol anyway.

Anyway, when I don’t feel so well I try to remind myself that I thought we’d be broke all our lives and I was wrong. Nothing lasts forever. So hopefully the anxiety won’t either. It’s just getting hard to believe this mantra with each year that this shit continues to go on. Also, I’d rather be broke again than suffer.

Tom just said it’s no problem if I use speech to text because he can shut his door. The beauty of not having an open floor plan in this house is that sound doesn’t travel as easily throughout the place. Anyway, using speech-to-text has spoiled me. I pretty much hate to type these days but it’s still better than writing by hand like I used to many years ago.

He’ll be losing a lot of sleep tonight but making a shitload of money. Hey, this is Cali, where everything pays a fortune and then costs you a fortune. Apparently, I’m far from the only one on a wacky schedule here too, even if it’s not by choice in my case. When Tom retires he’s going to just sleep whenever he needs to sleep whether or not it’s at the same time every night (or day). We don’t believe in schedules even if I still wish I could keep one at times. He can adjust his for appointments in a day, though, if he has to. It takes me over a week to do that.

We went out at 4 AM yesterday to Walgreens where we got a few treats and another really cool set of designer stick-on nails. Metallic bluish-green with silver glitter accents.

On the way back we saw at least half a dozen rule-breakers, which didn’t surprise us in the least. You’re not supposed to park in the street overnight yet despite the park actually attempting to do something about this particular problem, people just don’t care. They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do.

Ordered some stuff from Amazon last night. Got another pair of purple sweatpants only in size medium this time because the large was too big for me.

Plus, I got a 100-pack of honey sticks that you use like coffee stirs in tea. They can be used as snacks or in tea actually. They even have chocolate sticks to stir into milk. Along with the honey sticks, I got a Bigelow’s tea sampler with 54 tea bags for just $13. That’s a damn good deal! There are only a couple I won’t like such as the orange and lemon zinger. You know I hate citrus.

Lastly, I got this absolutely GORGEOUS floral tea kettle with tulips, daisies, poppies and lilies. I figure I’ll just use regular tap water and save on bottled water which I prefer to put through the Keurig. This also gives me the option of making a pot of tea if I want to. Hell, if my Sleepytime tea keeps making me feel calmer then I’m going to practically drown myself in the stuff.

Slept better than I thought I would yesterday. I still woke up several times, but except for the time I got up to pee, I fell right back to sleep. Not once did I wake up from the motorcycles I expected to wake up from.

I have declared my CampNaNo project along with my bestie and will be looking forward to having fun with Reunion of Innocents, but will probably do that one just for fun and not for future publication. This will be the Palma reunion story.

Kim has done nothing but rant about her SIL to both Aly and I, and Aly feels she’s gotten very selfish in that all she wants to do is whine about her problems without bothering to care or ask about Aly’s. On top of that, there’s nothing more we can do other than what we’ve already suggested. I feel bad for her, but as Aly and I both agree, it’s unlikely that she’s as innocent as she’s claiming to be. Like it or not, Kim has always been a pathological liar and probably always will be. I don’t know how aware of her actions she is, but she’s incredibly contradicting at times. She’s told us that her mother is just as scared of her SIL, but then she said her mother squealed on Kim for not using soap or something like that, after using the bathroom.

She got fired from work for her attitude, but since the boss is a friend of the SILs, I guess something is going to be worked out. Also, I guess she and her sister want her and her mother to lose more weight but since they haven’t, they don’t get to go on their upcoming road trip to Georgia or some shit like that. It’s a strange family indeed.

SUNDAY, MARCH 11, 2018 Waking up to the tune of power saws and hammering 4 days in a row is not a thrilling thing to have to wake up to. I am SO totally beyond sick of this shit and having to listen to one project after another here! You would think that getting up at 5 p.m. would spare you from the bulk of the noise, but now they’re working into the evening and daylight savings isn’t helping with that either as it only enables them to work later as it stays lighter later. The thing is that as long as it’s between 8 a.m. and 10 p.m., we can be as noisy as we want. :-(

I managed to sleep well today since they’re working on the other side of the house, but tomorrow, the motorcycle gangs are going to be waking me up like crazy. Despite spending hundreds of dollars on soundproofing material, extra windows, and sleeping with sound machines and earplugs, I STILL get woken up. So many vehicles are just so ferociously loud these days that one would need to be hundreds of feet away from the road.

I’m also kind of irritated with myself for not adapting and getting used to it after all these years. I’ve never lived in a quiet place yet. At least not as an adult. Auburn would have been quiet if it hadn’t been for Jesse and his damn dogs, but the world is never going to sound like it did in the 70s and even the 80s, so you would think I would have adjusted to this shit by now.

I’ve lived in many places yet never have I heard landscaping nearly every day or so many fucking projects being done. Not even the apartments I had in Arizona had this much shit going on and they definitely had more going on than when I lived back east. Plus, there is the insane amount of loud vehicles and all the plane activity here.

I thought they were working on the house behind Geri’s but they’re actually replacing Geri’s eaves. They just started on the other side and now they’re on the side closest to us. I can tell this is something that’s going to take weeks or at least several days.

Tom said that when he came back with the groceries after 10 a.m. there were half a dozen cars down the street just past Bob and Virginia so I guess there was something going on down there as well.

The house in back has sold so now it’s only a matter of time before I find out how loud their vehicle is. Hopefully, they won’t be parking by the bedrooms as they’re getting moved in and having their little housewarming party and all that shit.

So far, it’s been a peaceful evening. Can’t hear much of the freeway tonight which is only about 600 feet away. Not too many car stereos either, or planes. Wait. I take that last part back. I can hear some planes now.

I got an email from Maliheh even though it wasn’t really from her from some other country. It ended with ‘br’ and I’m guessing that’s Brazil. There was some link that I wouldn’t click on, of course, knowing it was either some type of spyware or a link to spam. I don’t understand how this particular scam works. I know one of her email accounts was hacked but this doesn’t appear to be from that account. Why not just make up a bogus name? Why use a real person’s name? I would have thought she would have recovered control of her email that was hacked by now but maybe not. Like I said, I don’t understand how this scam works. Lying bitch or not, I don’t think she did anything wrong. I think she really was/is a victim.

I went out running earlier with Tom and I ran both fast and long because I was pissed. Pissed at all the noise and pissed that the research Tom did on flares and thyroidectomies didn’t exactly tell me anything I wanted to hear. I’m really worried that I’m going to suffer on and off from anxiety for the rest of my life even though Tom says he doesn’t think so and still thinks that the perimenopause is the root cause from everything he’s read.

Supposedly, if I got my thyroid removed, it may not be able to spit out bursts of T3 anymore but I would still have Hashimoto’s and so I may not necessarily feel better. Also, there’s a whole long list of things that can actually cause autoimmune flare-ups like cold weather and various forms of inflammation. That’s why they recommend Ibuprofen when you have a flare but it’s not something you want to take every day, of course, because it can cause bleeding in the stomach. If I weren’t in good shape and then I suddenly did something strenuous that left me sore, that could cause a flareup right there. But because I’m active and use my muscles regularly, I lower the risk of inflammation, even though there are other things that can cause flares.

I feel like such a hypocrite tonight. I have been bitching about seeing nothing but an endless stream of negativity online pertaining to the same old subjects, yet all I want to do right now is bitch, moan, rant, complain, cry and basically beat my head in the fucking wall, knowing that if there is a God up there this is all the more reason to hate its fucking guts for allowing me to suffer like this year after year when I’ve already had more than enough shit in life to have to deal with.

I’m just so fucking frustrated right now because I don’t see any real change in the near future, if ever. It would be bad, of course, to stop my thyroid medication altogether as that would only make things worse in many ways and the autoimmune disease may attack other organs and might even kill me, even if I didn’t have as much anxiety that way. But a few skips here and there definitely does help reduce some of the anxiety. My PCP knows I do this at times but I still want to discuss different options with her as far as handling flares when I see her in June.

Quitting smoking while I was young helps too, but I just feel like there’s a potential threat in everything. I can’t enjoy an occasional sugary treat without there being a risk of that triggering anxiety and the whole thing just really sucks shit. They now recognize asthma as an autoimmune disease even though mine’s been dormant most of the time since quitting smoking. But technically I have two AI diseases with a whole shitload of things that can make them worse and I might not even know what some of them are or realize that I could be doing something not very beneficial to myself. It’s a no-brainer that too much incense can make my lungs tight, but almost anything I do or eat could trigger flare-ups.

One of the many things he read that can cause flareups is hormonal imbalances so I’m still slightly hopeful that once I’m postmenopausal, the anxiety will lessen if it doesn’t go away altogether, but only slightly. After four years of this shit, it’s hard to hold out much hope of this ever going away. Like I said in a recent entry, I think this is the new me now and how I’m going to be for the rest of my life just like I one day got fat and I’m always going to be fat as well as farsighted and other things. Things change with age and they don’t always go back to what they used to be. Another thing that makes me doubtful that I’ll ever get better is that I actually feel like I’m through the worst of the peri because other symptoms have backed off. If my heart quit racing me awake, and other sleep disturbances (except for rude assholes on motorcycles) have eased up as well as the hot flashes, then why wouldn’t the anxiety have eased up by now as well?

UPDATE: Feeling better after a cup of Sleepytime tea. Valerian root really is a good thing. Something hit me after my last entry. You know how I said that most of my perimenopause symptoms have backed off except for the anxiety? Well, it hit me that I read that someone said that Amberen helped with all her symptoms except for anxiety. Maybe the same applies to me since I’ve been taking Amberen since last summer and everything but that has improved. In response to them saying this (on a doctor’s blog that wrote a book about menopause and such), the doctor recommended magnesium supplements to help combat the anxiety. Hmm…

FRIDAY, MARCH 9, 2018 Great news. I’m now 99% sure I know what’s been causing my anxiety on and off these last four years. Is it my medication? Perimenopause? Yes, but no. The question is whether or not I can get someone to actually help me with it and that would be getting me a thyroidectomy, but first, let me get other things out of the way before I get into that.

Sure enough, I was woken up four or five times today but I’m not tired, strangely enough. According to the weather forecast, the motorcycles are going to be waking me up like crazy this weekend. :-(

I’ve woken up to sawing and hammering for three days now. First, they’re doing a project behind Geri and now Geri is getting a new hatch to her crawl space. I’m sure it will take weeks too. But as much as I bitch about it, I realize it might have been worse. I would have had to deal with it longer had I gotten up earlier. But then I would just escape to the bedroom. I’m thinking of making that my permanent office because I’m tired of noise running me out of the living room. I would hear less of the freeway in the bedroom, including the fucking car stereos that can be heard mostly from 6 p.m. to 2 a.m. in warmer weather.

Right after I removed Campus Games because it didn’t seem to shake Maliheh’s negative review (unless I just didn’t give it enough time to reflect the changes), someone bought a copy of Evil. Hopefully, not Maliheh or a friend of hers to show they can leave a negative review on something they actually buy. Not unless she has a friend in the UK anyway because that’s where the sale came from. Either way, if I’m going to keep making sales, then I guess I may as well leave my books up, even if I never make much money from it.

Last night I dreamed I was gazing out at either a large lake or an ocean I seemed to live by. The water was bedecked with many sailboats.

Then I dreamed I was in a bathroom in a place that might have been very close to if not right on the beach. For some reason, I didn’t close the bathroom door and Tom entered the room in which the bathroom was off of. I told him I was peeing and he said, “Oh, I’m not even looking,” and went about doing something in what might’ve been a kitchen.

Okay, on with the flareups that I’m virtually certain are what’s been causing me to have intermittent anxiety ever since I began this damn thyroid medication. It’s known as an autoimmune flareup. The more research I did last night, the more it explains a lot of things. I always forget that it wasn’t the medication itself because it’s simply the same stuff our bodies make anyway, but I knew it was awfully extreme for perimenopause. Not saying the peri isn’t to blame at all. I’m just saying I know my body and what’s normal for me and it’s been obvious to me that there has been something going on that hasn’t been properly addressed and dealt with. But as I read on, things started making more sense. For example, just the way skipping doses can help. If the problem was mostly on the peri, cutting the medication back wouldn’t give me such noticeable relief. I tell you, the symptoms are too severe to be simply a case of “bad” or “rough” perimenopause which would just keep getting worse and worse like when I didn’t cut back the first couple of years hoping I would simply “get used to it.” The severe arrhythmia and palpitations, fear and anxiety I never had before in my life, severe constipation, losing 10 pounds in a week… perimenopause alone doesn’t do this. The more I would let the flareups go on without cutting back, the longer it would take to get relief after finally cutting back. When I was at my worst the last time which was in the fall of 2015, it took me three months to recover.

Flareups involve a sudden burst of T3 which can cause you to have symptoms of thyrotoxicity without the numbers showing up on your tests. This is why I never appear to be overmedicated when they test my TSH and T4. From what I read, the burst of T3 doesn’t last long enough to show up in the types of tests that they typically do on thyroid patients. But still, when the article I read described the symptoms, I had them all. A racing heart, feeling flushed in a way that isn’t quite the same as when you have a hot flash, feeling jittery, feeling like you have “too much energy.” It was me. It was all me.

Lowering my dose would prevent the flareups from making me so anxious but it would also lower the amount of thyroid in my system more than it should. Well, I don’t want to be low on thyroid but I don’t want to suffer from this bullshit cycle anymore either. I really think my best option would be a thyroidectomy and eliminating the root cause of the problem is what should be done for me. The problem is that so many doctors want to take the easy way out and do what’s easiest for them instead of what’s best for the patient. If I can’t get A to help me, I might have to drop her until I can find someone who will, even if we have to pay for it ourselves. A thyroidectomy usually costs 5 to 7 grand. I’ve definitely had more than enough of this shit but if worse comes to absolute worse and no one wants to address and deal with the real culprit or even lower my dosage, I will skip doses when I have a flareup like I’m doing right now. Sometimes an occasional skip isn’t enough and I have to skip two or three days in a row.

I’ve read good things about thyroidectomies and never heard anyone say they regretted having it done. I think even Tammy knows someone who had it done and felt much better afterward, but again, because it’s not life-threatening, even though you sure feel like you’re going to die if it gets bad enough, I don’t know if I can get anyone to help me.

Dr. O actually told me what it was and she was the only one that brought up the flares. Not sure they ever go away, though, like perimenopause eventually goes away but I haven’t yet found anything that suggests they have any kind of set lifespan. As much as my Dr. O was a stern bitch at times that reminded me a little too much of my mother, she was a genius. Most knowledgeable and helpful doctor I ever had and I almost wish she was my PCP as well. I don’t understand why A hasn’t taken my complaints of anxiety more seriously and looked into other causes other than just perimenopause. I get that she hasn’t known me all my life and that she doesn’t live in my mind and body to know what’s normal for me and what’s not, but still. So many doctors want to take the easy way out and mask the problem rather than get rid of it altogether. I’m tired of this roller coaster and I don’t want to try to manage or mask it with things like Lorazepam and other things that could have side effects when I can simply remove the problem altogether. I know it would mean having to double my dose because I would be going from a 50% output to a 0% output, but this way I might actually be able to take the medication more consistently if I don’t have the damn flareups making me so miserable. Even the psychiatrist herself said you can sometimes still feel anxious even with psych drugs and these drugs can stop working after a while, too. So let’s prevent it from happening in the first place by going directly to the source and getting rid of the problem!

I ran and downed a couple of ibuprofen after reading an article about that helping with flares since it’s a form of inflammation, and psychological or not, it did seem to take some of the edge off the anxiety. I feel better today because I didn’t take my meds today and I’m not taking them tomorrow either so as to lower the amount of medication in my bloodstream while I’m flaring. I’ll take it on Sunday, though.

THURSDAY, MARCH 8, 2018 I unpublished and then republished Campus Games. We’ll see if that shakes what I’m fairly certain is Maliheh’s comment for teasing her about using her name. LOL, it was still worth it. Maybe I can tease her about making her Socio, then she can leave a negative review on another book and I’ll do the same thing.

Maliheh never responds to the occasional email I send reminding her of my existence but I have no reason to think she doesn’t at least read them, hoping I’ll be dumb enough to say something she can hang my ass with.

Actually, it doesn’t look like it got rid of the review. Maybe because I didn’t change anything after unpublishing it. Either way, I’m torn between leaving what’s there, deleting some books, and deleting all of them. I just don’t see the point of turning something that’s fun into all this work if the profit isn’t going to be big enough to make it worth the effort. For the most part, there’s only money in writing if you’re famous or infamous and I definitely don’t want to be either one of those. It’s been a fun and interesting journey but I think for the most part, if not for the whole part, it should be what it’s always been meant to be… just a fun hobby.

I also admit I’m a touch embarrassed at the thought of some people I know reading them like Kathleen, just like I came to feel that way about my journals and became pickier about who I share them with. Between the explicit scenes and some of my older stories and the fact that I’m not the greatest storyteller, I’m a little self-conscious when it comes to the idea of certain people reading them. I should never have told just anyone that I’m an author, just like I should never have told anyone I know that I keep a journal online.

Unless people really can buy my books without me knowing it, Kathleen hasn’t bought anything, and since she hasn’t thus far, she likely never will. I think she’s more conservative than I ever realized she could be, no matter how much I may be “in her heart.”

The noise continues to be obnoxious most of the time. Loud vehicles, projects, landscaping, freeway traffic, car stereos (usually from outside the park) and plenty of plane activity. Even the nights aren’t always quiet. It’s after dark now and while I don’t usually mind the whoosh of freeway traffic, I hear the annoying buzz of planes and the occasional thumping of bass. Tonight I even get to listen to a catfight. I thought it was a couple of little kids screaming at first.

Anyway, despite the technology we have today to make things quieter, this is life in most places. Nothing I can do about it. Hell, most vehicles weren’t even this loud 50 years ago, and in some ways, this place is noisier than Phoenix was and that place was rocking. There I didn’t hear freeway traffic and car stereos throughout the night, oodles of projects or daily landscaping. Sometimes I even hear construction on the freeway being conducted in the middle of the night. I don’t think I even heard trains at night in Phoenix. I hate to think of what the world will sound like in another decade or two! I would think that by then people would have had enough and would do something about it but that’s what I thought years ago regarding car stereos. I think most people either don’t mind or don’t notice noise. The only thing I’m able to tune out at times is the whooshing of the freeway traffic because it’s a fairly consistent sound. Like I said to Tom, though, no sense in even trying to get a quieter place at this point whenever and wherever we move to. We should just focus on price and climate. Noise will be a part of my regular life for the rest of my life just like anxiety, obesity and shitty vision will be.

I was reading back on some old journal entries where Molly and her mother stalked and harassed the shit out of me online for years, following me from one site to another. You would think by now I would just laugh at some of those old memories and their immature silliness, but I actually felt a surge of anger. They’re lucky I didn’t go after them. It’s only that we were flat broke at the time that saved them from me. However, spells have long since been cast as I’ve done both consciously and not with those that have crossed me over the last couple of decades and irreversible consequences have befallen them because of it. I regret some of this and these days I definitely do prefer to simply ignore those I dislike, but sometimes we can’t call off what negative energy we may put out there.

I do take some of the responsibility, however, for using sites that didn’t have a block feature and that basically provided pathways of opportunities for them. I guess I felt that by dumping those sites altogether, I would be letting them control me and therefore they would win. I think I also wanted to provide them with a chance to really incriminate themselves at times. But these days I wouldn’t give a shit if you wrote that I was a mass murderer using my full name or even if you directly threatened me because words are just words and I’m not one to run to the cops, not that I trust them much, over stuff people say or write. Also, most sites have block features nowadays and the few that don’t, well, no site is so valuable to me that I would have to put up with anyone’s shit in order to keep using it. Unless someone were to physically force their presence on me by kicking my door down, all trolls are easy enough to avoid on almost any site, including email and phone services. So…as quickly as you unzip your mouth, I can zip it right back up for you in a heartbeat. :-)

I had a nightmare in which I’m certain something bad happened to me but I don’t remember what. It was bad enough to wake me up and it’s too bad I don’t remember so I can have a sense of what shit I might be in for that would almost certainly be some physical problem.

I do remember a dream where Bob and Virginia were supposedly in jail for many years but “jail” looked just like their house does. I don’t know what they got in trouble for but they were allowed to take their house to jail, haha.

Then there was some dream about the three of us running our hands over some bundles of yarn and marveling at how soft they were.

For now, I should quit being lazy and try to coax myself into working out because chances are I’m going to be too tired to work out tomorrow after having my sleep disturbed numerous times. I wish they would come early at 8 o’clock like they did a couple of weeks ago but I’m sure that was a fluke.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 7, 2018 I love my cousin Norma. She’s a very sweet lady and all that but damn does she drive me crazy with all the negativity! All her posts are negative and the more I get to know her, the more I’m surprised at just how judgemental she truly is. She’s just as judgemental as I can be but in a different way. She has this bleeding heart for blacks and Muslims that most “politically correct” people have these days and it just gets old. I get tired of these troublemaking groups getting so much praise and pity that most of them simply don’t deserve. I almost felt a little offended when I confided in her how I was legally discriminated against by blacks (oh, it wasn’t just in retaliation for the city complaint), and she couldn’t seem to accept that yes, whites really do sometimes get discriminated against by blacks. The media just doesn’t focus on those cases nearly as much as when it’s the other way around. I kind of get that if you haven’t experienced something firsthand it may be harder to fathom, but that doesn’t mean that these things don’t happen or that I wasn’t just as much of a victim as some of them are even though the media won’t tell you that and you might not get how that’s possible in a world that believes blacks can do no wrong… Ever.

I “snoozed” Norma for 30 days. Again, I love the woman but the constant negativity, regardless of the subject matter, has a way of bringing just about anyone down. She’s got to be pretty miserable herself. How can she not be? I realize she lost her husband which doesn’t exactly put one in a great frame of mind but she was like this before Milt died. As I learned a long time ago, the more we focus on negative things or things we can’t change, the more depressed, angry and frustrated we feel. She’s in her late 80s. I would want to spend whatever time I had left surrounding myself with goodness and positivity. But it’s her life and she has to live it as she sees fit. Meanwhile, I don’t have to hear it every day. :-) That’s what the ‘unfollow’ and ‘snooze’ buttons are for. I get that it’s human nature and that we all get a little repetitious at times, but I would still rather avoid regular negativity as much as possible.

I’m only sharing this with Tammy because I trust that she’ll keep it between us. No need to hurt anyone’s feelings when it’s easy enough to ignore people, just like some people may want to ignore me and all my rats. :-)

Aly DM’d me to say that Jase thinks she should get the transplant done but is worried she would be in the hospital for three weeks.

But if it’s going to help her in the long run, it may be a good idea. I’m not an expert and I don’t know all the details but she said that transfusions are time-consuming as well. Maybe the transplants will lessen her likelihood of having to have transfusions and other medications with nasty side effects as well.

Anyway, I’m still looking forward to meeting the highly creative, intelligent and androgynous “Agent P” come September!

TUESDAY, MARCH 6, 2018 We’ve all gotten scams from phishers pretending to be from companies we’re familiar with like banks, major websites, and other things like that saying we need to log in to “verify” and update our information, but I was surprised to get what I’m pretty sure is a scam in the guise of my medical group. I was smart enough not to click the link and give out any information. Besides, this thing actually wanted me to create a new account and the link wasn’t the same as for their site. The only thing that was different about this scam was that there weren’t the usual misspellings and poor punctuation and grammar that you usually find with most scams. I’m not going to do anything about it, though. All my info is up-to-date and if it’s really them and they really want to verify my info, they can call me.

The question is why anybody would want medical info if it is a scam? That’s all that would be there. Not any credit card info but just health info. I also wonder how they knew this was my medical group. Did they just send the same thing to tons of people or is it aimed at me personally? I don’t think it’s just me but if anyone out there is that curious, I’m relatively healthy. I have Hashimoto’s, a little anxiety from perimenopause that’s getting closer to menopause, and sometimes my BP is a little high. Same with my white blood cells and cholesterol. Oh, and I’m a little heavy too, but not much right now. I’m pretty fit for one in her 50s and I rarely get colds and almost never get the flu. I’ve only puked once this millennium and had just one infection this millennium (dental). Happy now? :-)

Nothing from Amazon today. Gee, what a surprise. I’ll have to decide whether or not to temporarily unpublish the book which will delete the negative review or just leave it there since no one likes everything and it doesn’t seem to be affecting sales. No one in the arts and entertainment can please everyone so yeah, it can stay.

Something from FedEx came today although it wasn’t for us. When we Googled the address it showed our house but Google doesn’t always get it right. I took the package next door and asked if they knew who the person could be and they had no idea. Being an even number we knew it was the inner circle. Virginia asked if it was flowers or Sees Candy, saying it would be worth keeping in that case. LOL, nope. Just a car part.

Their place looked beautiful and immaculate as always, and Bob had a rifle by the door. I don’t know much about guns so it could’ve been a pellet gun or a shotgun (but then aren’t those the same thing?) Or something else. I can only say that it was long and definitely not a handgun. Or an assault rifle for that matter. Hmm… Does he have it for protection or is he a hunter? This is one of the unlikeliest places you would need to protect yourself from a home invasion and it seems too big for protection, so I’m guessing the latter.

Tom contacted FedEx who said they would pick the package up but they haven’t yet. If it’s still here late tomorrow then I’ll do their damn job for them and give it to the proper house. It’s just beyond Geri.

Wanting to see exactly whose house is up for sale down the street, we decided to walk around the circle. It is Ray’s. Yay, if he’s the one with the loud mutt that’s been annoying for years every time it’s walked. Never cared for the guy either.

Oh, the rules people love to break here. Someone further down the street has three dogs when you’re only supposed to have two here. They’re very tiny and I don’t think they’ve ever been annoying, so people can break all the rules they want as long as it doesn’t affect me. Maybe someone was visiting with one of them though I doubt it.

Again my dreams were too vague to really know what to make of them. A quick flash of me looking at a picture of feet on pointe with bright pink ballet slippers that were hanging on Tammy’s wall. Me touching an exterior wall in some living room and noticing it was warm because it was hot out.

I feel a bit wound up tonight. My heart was racing earlier, though I’m not actually being “stabbed” in the chest with anxiety. I thought part of it may have been because I was running around, lifting heavy stuff, and then it got a little warm in here as well. Or maybe it’s still the peri. The fact that my heart hasn’t raced me awake for a while and the fact that I’m sleeping better (along with how long it’s been) tells me I’m getting close to menopause. But then why do I still have some anxiety? That can’t be a good sign. I still worry that my meds are part of the problem.

Aly, who had a bone marrow biopsy a couple of years ago which she says is very painful, is hoping to avoid having to have another one. Where my white blood cell count numbers range from 11-13, hers range from 19-21. I know she’s had transfusions as well as some medication called cyclosporine. She says a bone marrow transplant is the absolute last resort as it probably wouldn’t be covered. I just hope to hell that whatever the bad things are in her blood they don’t turn into leukemia. Unfortunately, I think I read that it usually does. If that’s the case then hopefully that’s many, many years away. The hematologist I saw said that it’s something that starts up slowly then quickly escalates. But I’m 14 years older and my numbers are lower. Mine aren’t likely to get any higher. My dreams haven’t hinted at anything worth worrying about either.

MONDAY, MARCH 5, 2018 Nothing like sipping a cup of Butterscotch Blondie tea while dealing with a bunch of incompetent idiots at Amazon Publishing. Yeah, the perfect way to spend the day. eye roll They replied to the message I sent asking how someone could leave a review, negative or not, on an item that didn’t yet seem to be purchased or borrowed and what do I get? A reply saying they’re forwarding my information about having the review taken down.

I didn’t ask for it to be taken down. I asked why people can review things they didn’t buy. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten nowhere with them and left feeling frustrated. Funny too, because the whole idea of self-publishing through them was so that I wouldn’t have to deal with headaches like this. I didn’t want the pressures of contracts or someone else to do my editing for me and pick out my book covers. I wanted to go at my own pace and have more say in things without the deadlines and other bullshit. But apparently, you can’t get straight, helpful, sensible answers this way.

I finished watching the latest season of Bates Motel. It was fantastic. I try to imagine a real-life person with MPD and I just can’t do it. I don’t see how it’s possible to suddenly believe you’re all these different people while “yourself” isn’t even aware of it. To me, it seems like little more than just one big act either for fun, sympathy, or to try to get out of a bad situation like some people do that conveniently claim amnesia when questioned by the police. Amnesia is an easy scapegoat and I can see where MPD would be as well. Like blaming something on an evil twin, it just seems like a bunch of hogwash. Like I could have been someone else - anyone else - a half hour ago and not know it. Yeah, right! Really, the shrinks who fall for this shit and suggest it as a possibility are just as bad as the patients putting on these acts for whatever reason they’re putting them on for.

Now that I’m caught up on Bates Motel, I’m watching the 18th year of Law & Order SVU. The cast is getting up there in years but still looking good.

Last night I had another dream that again made me question the possibility of parallel lives, but unfortunately, I can’t remember it.

I know we sometimes have reflection dreams that are influenced by life events reflected in our dreams. Like if we worry about money, we’re likely to dream about money. But why have I had so many dream premonitions? I wonder what that’s all about and what causes these things to happen. And why are some of us more prone to them than others?

Aly and I decided to tell Kim about Curious Cat and she joined earlier. Maybe she’ll liven it up a bit even though we know she’ll ask the same old questions that she already knows the answers to. But will she send the same nasty questions she did on Ask? My guess is no. Not at this point.

I don’t know if Aly is a hypochondriac or just cursed in the health department. I’m guessing maybe both, but either way, she’s hoping not to have to have a bone marrow biopsy. It’s both painful and not likely to be covered by her insurance. Again, I can’t believe this world we live in. If you get in trouble, you get a free lawyer (a joke of one or not) but if you can’t afford life-saving medical treatment, you die. Makes me wonder… What if I’d gotten cancer when we were uninsured? Would I be dead now?

SUNDAY, MARCH 4, 2018 Got some air freshener, a round decorative rock with gold paint and sequins, and a pink gemstone-tipped pen at the dollar store. I could use the rock for hot plates and pots as well as for decoration.

We stopped at McDonald’s before the dollar store where he got a burger and I got chicken nuggets. It was good even though it was a bit of a wait.

When we came home we hemmed my new purple sweatpants with fabric glue, and other than some sawing and engine gunning, it’s been a pretty quiet day. Still a lot of loud vehicles, though. I still don’t get why there are so many. It’s so unnecessary with today’s technology yet Tom said they passed some ordinances against vehicles that are too quiet in some places for pedestrians’ safety. rolls eyes If you’re dumb enough to cross the street without looking first then you’re kind of asking to be hit.

Remember how I said several entries ago that a few people attempted to leave good reviews on my books and they wouldn’t go through? Well, apparently I’m only allowed visible reviews as long as they’re only one star. Yeah, “Written in a very elementary manner,” someone going by M wrote on Campus Games. Funny too, because when I read the half a dozen other reviews they’ve left, most of which are also one star, they weren’t exactly a very good writer themselves given their lack of punctuation and caps.

Kind of wonder if it’s Maliheh or someone connected to her. She wasn’t a reader but that’s the thing; you don’t have to actually purchase the item in order to review it.

Either way, I get that everyone gets negative reviews at times and I’m okay with that because I don’t think negative feedback is going to affect my sales one way or the other any more than positive feedback because I’m not famous…or infamous.

I replied with: I’m sorry you didn’t like the book. No one’s ever said (at least to me) that I write in an elementary manner, and I’m pretty sure Amazon wouldn’t publish me if they felt that I did, but I understand that one style doesn’t fit all and that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. Still, I thank you very much for giving it a try!

I got to thinking about the negative book review and then it hit me… How does someone leave a review on a book that hasn’t had any purchases or borrows yet, according to my book reports? Campus Games is a newly released book. Maybe if it’s lent to someone the buyer knows it can escape my reports or something like that? I don’t know, but out of curiosity, I sent a message to Amazon asking if it’s possible that not every borrow or lend shows up on my report.

I’m really starting to suspect it could be Maliheh. They go by just “M,” they have no profile picture, and the few things that have been reviewed by them do seem like things she may get. The poor writing style fits in with her as well. The first review goes back to last August.

But if it’s her, why that book and not the one she inspired? Maybe the idea was to “punish” me with negative feedback for the email I sent her teasing her about using her real name in Evil, and to throw me off her scent by leaving the review on a different book. It’s not important either way but being the naturally curious person that I am, I can’t help but wonder if it’s someone I know. The biggest mystery is how the hell they reviewed something that’s not showing up on my reports. I wish Amazon wouldn’t allow anything to be reviewed without a verified purchase.

Anyway, if this was an honest-to-god review and not just someone messing with me, I will admit that I first wrote this particular story in 2004 when I wasn’t as experienced as a writer as I am now. But I thought I did some pretty serious editing on it before submitting it.

Anyway, it’s been absolutely freezing. I feel like I’ve been freezing my ass off for many months. I wish it would hurry the fuck up and warm up already! It is going to be warm enough for motorcycles next weekend which sucks because I’m going to be sleeping in at that time as I flip my schedule for my appointments. Chances are I’m going to be woken up that day and probably Friday too when the trash and green waste trucks make their way in. I swear I’m never again going to have a bedroom so close to a busy street or any street for that matter! As I was telling Tammy, forget trying to find quiet. Quiet just wasn’t meant to be for me. But I can definitely do better than this and no possible friendship with Kathleen is worth sticking around for. I don’t even know what “let’s keep in touch” means. Does it mean “let’s get together once or twice a month” or “send me a Christmas card every year to let me know how the year was for you?” Tom thinks it’s the latter. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m fine with whatever she wants. I’m just tired of being cold so much of the time!

But not as tired as I am of the anxiety. I started to feel it well up in my chest earlier, but a cup of Sleepytime seemed to help it. Tom thinks it’s simply because it’s Sunday night and I wish he were right, but if it’s anxiety over anything that’s going on, then why didn’t I have this feeling when we were struggling financially? I know it’s tied in with either the medication or the perimenopause, I just don’t know which one is most responsible for this shitty feeling. Maybe all those articles really have a point too, when they talk about how fast food and sugary treats induce anxiety. I’ve had two candy bars these last two days, plus I went to McDonald’s.

Now I’m going through the dilemma of whether or not I should skip tomorrow or just see if I can tough it out and see how bad it ends up getting. If I could just tough it out, I could lose an easy 5 to 10 lb. But there is no reasoning with myself once it gets to the point where my heart is racing and I’m terrified. Once it goes from a shitty feeling to a scary one, I’m pretty much fucked and it’s no way to live. I’d rather gain weight than go through that. So I guess I might skip tomorrow or at least cut my waiting time in half.

Another dilemma I’ll be facing in June is whether or not to tell A that I’m going to skip weekly to prevent this from happening in the first place or ask that she lower my dose.

If I can make it to the end of the month without a period then that will mean I’ve had just one in 9 months. Really wish I could get to November without any periods because then I’ll know for sure if it’s the meds or not making me anxious. It will be interesting to see what my estrogen levels are when I’m tested in June. I keep going back and forth in my mind between the causes. Both the meds and the peri make sense but they also don’t.

While I’m on the subject of life’s little mysteries, how about peeling back in time to 1996? Pretty sure they said in court it was something like 1996 or 7 that I sent the freeloaders the threatening letter but that they didn’t have enough evidence to go after me then. Then how does sending journal excerpts suddenly turn an incident that’s lacking in evidence into an incident that has sufficient evidence???

I’ve been feeling more and more alienated by Tammy even though I know I shouldn’t. For all I know she doesn’t contact many others any more than she does me, and with us not having much in common and her not being the greatest writer and therefore easy to understand, it’s probably better this way. But how much does she really want me around? As in near where she lives? Maybe the fact that she doesn’t pester me online shows that she wouldn’t do that in person either. It’s just that she can’t get from me online what she could get from me in person. She had me babysit for her, for example, those few months I lived in Connecticut. Had the Internet existed then, she couldn’t have used me to babysit online. The only way to know what she’s going to do is to live close to her if we do.

When Alexa told me that Ocala was 40° last night, that pretty much got that place off the table of possibilities. That’s almost as cold as it is here. It was 55° in Cape Canaveral and 59° where Tammy lives as well as in Fort Lauderdale. Now that’s more like it! It really would be best to get as close to the coast as we can afford and not go too far north.

I was quick to say we probably couldn’t afford the high-rise apartments on the beach my parents lived near while we were looking for a place and deciding exactly what town/city to settle in, but maybe we could if it included utilities.

I also wonder… Is Tammy’s place really that much quieter than this place or does she just not notice noise as easily as I do? I’m very hyper-aware of sounds. I didn’t hear anything the times I was visiting but I was only there for a tiny fraction of the time she is. Maybe we just have different definitions of what’s noisy and what’s not because she said there were some trucks that use diesel but because they’re going so slow they’re not that loud. Well, they sure are loud enough here even when they’re sitting there idling. I realize that everybody has their own tolerance levels when it comes to noise. Obviously, most people don’t mind loud car stereos otherwise they wouldn’t still exist after all these years. But when I hear them booming down the freeway, I most certainly do notice them, deaf in one ear or not, and I definitely consider it noisy. Most people might have considered all the frogs in Auburn ribbiting up a storm after a rainstorm to be a noise nuisance, and while they were definitely just as loud as Jesse’s mutts, they didn’t bother me in the least.

SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 2018 Got some new flavored teas I’m looking forward to trying like chocolate, butterscotch, and Vermont maple ginger.

Right now I’m waiting till my vegan spinach pizza is ready and totally agree with Tom that it will be nice to have Amazon deliver groceries once that becomes available in Citrus Heights. Walmart is constantly going out of stock and there are always issues with their system. You would think they would be able to afford to be more functional and consistent but I guess they just don’t care to be. For now, we may check into Raley’s home delivery service even though Raley’s is more expensive.

Again I mulled over in my mind all the pros and cons of moving while he still working versus waiting until he’s retired. The smart thing to do would definitely be to wait until he’s retired, but like most people, we don’t always do what’s smart.

I have two dilemmas I’m facing. To do smart or stupid, and to do close to Tammy versus not so close. This may be a horrible thing to say, but a part of me wishes she would die now so she would not only stop suffering but also so that I wouldn’t have such a hard decision to make.

Haven’t heard much from Tammy since she last picked up my messages about a week ago. She usually only picks them up once a week. I still wonder if she gets them all to begin with because I asked her about her test before the last time she picked up my messages and still haven’t gotten a response. Oh well. She will update me when she’s ready. The dreams I had a while back about her really don’t surprise me much. People don’t just suddenly up and lose their appetite for shits and giggles. I’m guessing it’s a side effect of some medication she’s on, and she’s practically on a whole pharmacy’s worth. Plus there was that dream even further back where she was really frail. I know I told her about it, too. At 60, she’ll likely live for another 20-25 years, so hopefully they’ve been able to find something to lessen her pain so she can be more active. The weight loss should help with that.

That loud car has been coming around more after not being around for weeks. I hope it isn’t thinking of returning anytime soon.

Alexa lost her mind yesterday and wouldn’t listen when I commanded her to turn the lights on in certain rooms and then I found her trending on Facebook, so I knew they were having issues. They fixed it soon enough, but in the meantime, Tom said he was considering turning lights on and off from his phone when he was at work as a prank on me. LOL, I thought only I considered pranks like that.

Texted with my bestie yesterday and noticed it didn’t even feel like there had been a nearly two-year gap in our friendship. We carried on as usual and it was nice. I definitely missed her and would look at my phone with a sense of loneliness during that gap.

Was running journals through Grammarly when I came across the time I surprised Kim from jail with a letter. Remembering that she was released in January of 2017, I ran her name out of curiosity, and sure enough, she went back in last fall for another 3-year stint and won’t be out until 2021, 2022 at the latest. Same shit… narcotics. She’s lost weight and looks horrible as do most druggies.

Now, this is someone who genuinely wants to be in prison. This is her third time in that I know of and she’s now 40 years old. She’s got to have spent around half of her adult years locked up. It’s sad but true that many people prefer the prison life where they don’t have to worry about bills and where everything is done for them despite their loss of freedom and options. She probably found it very hard to make her own decisions when she was last out being so used to having them made for her and struggling to survive on her own. After all, as a career criminal, you can’t exactly get a decent job anywhere. I feel bad for the two kids she said she had (probably has more by now) because she basically chose crime over them.

Last night I dreamed that it was late at night and Maliheh was driving me home. Andy was with us. We were all sitting in the front seat with her at the wheel and Andy between us. I had an apartment somewhere and when I got to my building, I had to punch in a four-digit code in order to activate the elevator that would bring me to my apartment. But once I got to the keypad I realized I’d forgotten the code. I was pissed because it was too late for the office to be open that was on the ground floor.

Strangely enough, when I woke up in real life, Tom was asking me what the four-digit code was for one of our tablets.

In the second dream, I also didn’t seem to know Tom but my parents were still alive. I was telling Andy over the phone that I won 33 million dollars and that the dream house I always wanted was going to happen. I just didn’t know where or when. I was to meet with my parents in some building that night to pick up the money which was to be in bundles of cash. At that time I planned to surprise each family member with a million bucks of their own.

Gia’s (I have the Gia head on this month) make-up remover arrived today and I am totally amazed by how well it works! Really thought the stain on her leg from the lipstick I put on her nails would be permanent. With Tom’s help, we removed most of it from her nails focusing mainly around the cuticle area, and then I applied gorgeous bright neon falsies. The ring fingers have colorful fractals swirl accents, and the rest are bright orange like those cones they put in the street when they’re going to do road construction or something. They really show up well, even in dim lighting. These look much better on her than the black matte nails with the silvery accents. Those are what I’m going to be wearing to my appointments in a few weeks.

Kim is still ranting about her bossy sister-in-law and spineless sister and what a pain in the ass it is to watch their new dog and her two-year-old niece. Her niece’s mother just had a baby boy, so the girl is staying with them for a few days and Kim’s not too happy about it. I don’t know if she just doesn’t like kids or if she’s jealous of the attention it takes away from her or what. I would think she would want the attention taken away from her, especially since the sister-in-law threatened to break her computer if she breaks any of the collectibles in the hutch. She went on quite a long angry rant in her journal and Aly sometimes gets sick of hearing the same shit from her and how she never contacts her just to say hi. Kim seems to be hounded for everything… Her noises, whatever those may be. Going up and down stairs on one leg, however possible that may be. Being clumsy. Lying. Not cleaning properly…

Aly has various health issues, mainly eczema-related, but is otherwise doing okay.

Kathleen is still a bit of a mystery to me. I still wonder what the catch is. Why am I suddenly “allowed” to have someone like her in my life? She’s either going to change her mind or we’re going to move when and if she really does mean it when she says she wants to keep in touch and that I’m “in her heart,” LOL. If she’s waiting until she’s officially retired so that there is no longer any business connection between us, then that may very well be close to when we’re moving. I always thought it an odd coincidence that anyone I really like seems to move if we don’t. Well, if there is anything up there controlling how close I get to any of these people, then she’s either going to pull away from me or not contact me for nonbusiness reasons until we’re gone or close to it. Since we’re probably going to choose stupid over smart, we could be out of here in 2019, the year she retires.

Tammy is also a mystery. She’s healthy enough to log in almost every day on Facebook and sometimes she sounds perfectly normal when we talk. I guess I have no reason to assume she can’t make it well into her 70s and maybe even her 80s. Unless a heart attack sneaks up on her anytime soon, which isn’t likely since they’re monitoring her closely, or she gets aggressive cancer that takes off quickly, I would think she still has many years ahead, painful or not.

Tom is also doing his best to cut his sugar intake back and he is once again back on the Bowflex.

Been sampling my new flavored teas today. I’d give the Vermont maple ginger about a 5 or 6. The chocolate is about a 7, and the butterscotch is a definite 9, almost 10.

We didn’t do too much today because it’s good for us to take a day off on weekends when we can. Tomorrow we need to go out and pick some things up that Walmart didn’t have, plus the rats need more treats. We’ll probably eat out along the way, too.

FRIDAY, MARCH 2, 2018 Be it for ethical or dietary reasons, when I think of vegans I think of them not eating meat, but then I realize it’s more than just that. They also don’t have cheese, milk or eggs. Anything from animals is forbidden. I think I’m too metabolically fucked for a vegan diet to cause me to lose weight but I’m definitely interested in giving it a try for a while for its overall health benefits. If it can improve my cholesterol and reduce anxiety when I have it, why not? I won’t do it forever because I couldn’t give up meat for the rest of my life any more than I could give up sugar for the rest of my life, but I’ll try most things once at least for a while. The only thing I won’t eliminate is my coffee creamer.

So I guess I will be making this my last non-vegan week and will continue to do research and get recipe ideas. The thing is that I hate to cook. However, vegan recipes may be a little less complicated and not as time-consuming. Chai pancakes? Hmm… Sounds interesting!

Except for yogurt, I’ve never been big on dairy, especially milk, because it makes my stomach gassy. I may have to take Beano in order to handle the beans and roughage better if I’m going to be having more of that kind of thing. Either way, I will be looking for plant-based ideas and thinking beans, seeds, nuts, fruits, veggies and tofu.

During yesterday’s wind-driven rain, I heard a loud crash but when I ran outside and checked around the house, I didn’t see anything. Nothing seemed to have fallen inside the house either.

Although still cloudy and cool, it cleared up enough today that I could walk down to the lake. A small tree got taken out in the storm down there because someone was cutting it up. They’re also trimming the palm tree in back by the house that’s for sale. There’s always something going on around here when it’s not storming, but the air cleaner that’s sitting on the desk helps to drown some of it out.

It could rain anytime until midnight and it’s supposed to be rainy tomorrow, too.

My incense and color-changing nail polish arrived. Not all that impressed with the polish but I got an awesome selection of incense and she threw in some extras just like she did last time. The only ones I don’t care for are Yucca and Sage. Their version of Opium and Wet Kisses are to die for. Witch Doctor, Strawberry Fields, Egyptian Musk and so many others are awesome. Someone asked what Obama smells like, and it’s got a very rich woodsy smell.

Last night I dreamed that Stacey bought me a bedroom furniture set. I don’t know why but it was supposedly a gift for doing her some kind of favor. There was a tall dresser, a long dresser, and then a nightstand that we chose to put in an office somewhere. I was looking for my camera to take pictures of the furniture setup that I wanted to show her on Facebook, but couldn’t seem to find my camera.

THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 2018 Woke up to lots of rain and wind today. I can hear the wind howling at times but this is just what our drought-stricken state desperately needs. I love how quiet things are because of it, too. Even the traffic is quiet.

I pushed my potted cactus into the rain for a while.

As much as we may need the rain and as much as I like the quiet it brings, I really do miss the heat and swimming and all that stuff. I miss running around barefoot in shorts and tank tops. I hate being confined to long sleeves, robes, slippers, and hoodies. The less I have to wear, the better.

The only dream I remember from last night was Tom waiting for me in a parked car out in a rural area. It looked like he was parked alongside a cornfield or a wheat field of some kind. I was walking through a narrow path between the tall grasses and heading to the paved road that the car was sitting on. As I stepped out of the clearing, I glanced to the right and saw a brown bear about 30 feet away. By some miracle, I managed not to freak out as I casually but quickly made my way to the car which was on my left about 20 feet away. I was able to get into the car without the bear giving chase. Once I shut the door I shouted for him to go, and he looked up from something he had been reading and asked why. I looked out the windshield and saw that the bear was gone.

[storiesforallfandoms]

stood up ~ draco malfoy;harry potter

word count: 1625

request?: no

description: after being stood up on a date, an unlikely replacement decides to join her

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

Against my better wishes, I checked the time on my watch again. I had been waiting at The Three Broomsticks for nearly an hour on the arrival of my date, and so far there was nothing.

I watched my fellow Hogwarts students laughing and having a good time together. I searched through the crowds of people to see if I could see his face, but he wasn’t even there with any of his friends. I sighed heavily and chugged down the rest of my Butterbeer. I began to collect my things when the door to the Three Brooksticks opened and in walked a familiar head of bright blonde hair.

Draco showed up alone, very unusual for him. I was used to seeing him being tailed by his little entourage and his obsessed non-girlfriend. Not that he seemed to mind being alone, in fact he seemed much happier with his goon squad behind him.

His eyes searched the room, presumably for an empty table, before landing on me. I awkwardly shuffled and quickly looked away. I didn’t have any ill will towards Draco, we never really spoke. But I knew of his reputation. Who didn’t? The last thing I wanted was for my first introduction with him to be after being stood up. I knew he’d have a field day with that.

Just my luck, he began to move towards me. I was too awkward to even think to move. I just looked away from him, trying to stay focused on my empty mug.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice made my heart leap into my chest. I looked up at him and saw his piercing blue eyes looking back down into mine, almost looking right through me.

I couldn’t form a proper sentence, so I just nodded. Draco smiled and nodded towards my mug. “Want another one?”

“You don’t have to,” I started, but before I could say anything else Draco was taking my mug and making his way to the bar. When he returned, I smiled sheepishly at him. “Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he said as he sat down. “You seemed a little down when I walked in.”

“I’m surprised you cared,” I blurted before I could stop myself. I felt my face burning with embarrassment as Draco raised an eyebrow at me. “Wh-What I mean is-is we’re not exactly...acquaintances or anything. I didn’t even know you knew I existed.”

“I guess you have a point,” Draco said, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. “I figured you were alone and said, I was alone, maybe I’d try to talk to you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Very unusual for a Slytherin to want to talk to a Hufflepuff, but I suppose I’ll take it. Better than sitting here waiting for a date who isn’t going to arrive.”

I looked down at my Butterbeer before taking a mouthful of it. The look on Draco’s face turned to one of concern as I spoke. “A date that won’t arrive? What nutter would stand you up?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “You are giving me far more credit than I deserve. But, if you must know, it was Seamus Finnigan.”

A laugh slipped from Draco’s lips before he could stop himself. I glared at him and started collecting my things again. Quickly, he took hold of my arm to get me to sit down again. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just laughing that you’d even say yes to a oafish git like him.”

I shrugged, although I knew he was right. Seamus wasn’t exactly the most popular kid, and dating him would be a constant threat of being blown up. But he seemed so sweet, I just couldn’t turn him down. I figured he would make for at least a memorable first date, if nothing else.

I didn’t peg Seamus for the type to stand someone up. I figured he would’ve warned me before he cancelled the date. It’s not like he didn’t have ample opportunity, he had even told me the day before he’d meet me at the Three Broomsticks.

“He seemed nice,” I admitted. “And no one exactly shows interest in me, so I thought...why not? Bad decision on my part now, obviously.”

“More like bad decision on his part. Anyone who would stand you up is a nutter.”

I was shocked at Draco’s kind words. For all I had known, today was the first day he knew I even existed. I was shocked he felt so comfortable saying these things to me, although after being stood up, I was also sure he was just playing a prank on me.

“You don’t even know me,” I mumbled. “How can you confidently make those remarks?”

“Because, even if I don’t know you, I know I have eyes.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this. I had never met someone so brave to say these things to anyone, let alone to say them to me. My whole life, I had just been very...plain looking. I was told that I had hit a “good puberty” during the summer between my fifth and sixth year, but even then I hadn’t attracted too much attention.

Not to mention that Draco’s little non-girlfriend and her group of friends loved to make fun of most of the girls that weren’t a part of their circle, even other Slytherin girls. Because I was also pretty smart academically, I found myself the target of their bullying often. It was hard to think of yourself otherwise when a group of girls are constantly mocking you for everything.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” Draco said with a smile. He took another mouthful of his Butterbeer, leaving a foam moustache against his upper lip.

I giggled. “You’re cute with a foam moustache.”

He laughed at this as well and wiped the moustache off with the back of his sleep.

“So, you sure Pansy and her girls didn’t put you up to this?” I asked, my eyes darting around the room to see if Pansy was hidden somewhere among the crowd of students.

“Pansy is back at the castle sulking because I turned her down after she asked me out,” Draco responded. “And her friends don’t actually like her, they just hang out with her for the status.”

That feeling of worry slowly came off my shoulders. His answer seemed genuine, which meant that he wasn’t doing this on a dare.

We continued to talk for a few hours. I got our next round of Butterbeers, and Draco got the next found after that. The students were slowly starting to file out of the Three Broomsticks as the skies began to grow dark, and it wasn’t until the owner told us we should be heading back to the castle.

On the way back, Draco walked so close to me that our hands kept brushing against one another. At first, I pulled away thinking I had just bumped him, but when it kept happening I realized it was because he wanted it to happen. Every time our hands touched, I felt a light spark of electricity go through me. I wanted nothing more than to take Draco’s hand in mine, but I figured I should let him make the first move.

When we finally arrived at the castle, Draco stopped outside. I turned to face him, confused by his sudden stop.

“I feel like I should tell you something before we go our separate ways tonight,” he admitted. I felt my heart race, afraid of what he was about to say next. “I...I actually came looking for you today. I wasn’t planning on going to Hogsmeade but...I heard Finnigan talking about how he wanted to cancel your date but didn’t have the guts to. I knew you were going to be waiting at the Three Broomsticks alone today, and that you were going to wind up disappointed with the outcome.”

It was a slight pain in my heart to know that Seamus was aware he was standing me up, but I was able to push that aside with the warm feeling of knowing that Draco had specifically come looking for me because he knew I was being stood up. “And that made you want to come find me?”

“It did. I didn’t think it was fair what he was doing to you, you don’t deserve that.”

I put my hands in my pockets, now cold from the chilly air. “Okay, that brings me to my neck question...why do you care so much?”

Draco ran a hand through his nearly white hair. “I...I think you’re really pretty, and really nice. I never thought you’d ever like me since...well, I know I’m not the nicest person in Hogwarts. But I decided to try tonight, it was killing me not to know what your reaction would be.” He shrugged as he put his hands in his pockets, mirroring my image. “So...now it’s out there. It’s up to you what you’d like to do.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Draco before looking down at the ground in front of me. I pushed around a stray pebble with the toe of my boot as I said, “If you promise not to stand me up, I’d like to go out on another date sometime.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he responded, “Another date?”

“Well, yeah. First dates are way too awkward, we should just could today as ours and see where things go from there.”

“Okay, I’d like that a lot. I’ll send you the details of our next date when I come up with them.”

I giggled as I responded, “I’ll be waiting.”

I’ll be real, I was high while writing half of this so I’m sorry if it’s so bad.

[frenemies-to-lovers]

I Can Wait | Cardan POV Missing QoN Scene

A short Cardan POV in which we find out where he slept while Jude was recovering during QoN. Also, a conversation between Cardan and the Bomb, who absolutely knows exactly what is going on.

---

Having delivered The Ghost into the Bomb’s custody, and having confirmed with my guard that the queen has retired to the royal rooms, I find myself settling at the head of the enormous strategy table with a pot of tea. . .  and a goblet of wine. I had hoped to bring Jude to see the strategy room, along with the rest of the new Court of Shadows, but there hadn’t been time. Of course Jude would immediately redirect every half-formed plan of mine from the moment she had been up and walking again. It’s what she does best, taking the reins and steering my life in whichever direction she deems fit. 

(Read on AO3)

I hadn’t thought I could have been more relieved to see her getting herself entangled in the middle of court politics than I had been when she snuck into my chambers and, without so much as a hello, launched into plans to thwart Balekin and Orlagh after having been returned from the Undersea. But seeing her up and in the middle of court business again today, after having seen her wounded and bleeding and so near to death, was its own kind of magic. I feel like I am able to let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding for quite so long. 

I take a sip of wine and press my hand to my face where she slapped me. There’s no visible wound anymore, but it is still a little tender to the touch. A physical reminder that it had actually happened, that she is awake and alive and feeling enough like herself to be angry at me. I hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by seeing her storming around the gardens, full of fire.  But after haunting the royal chambers for days and seeing nothing but her too-still unconscious body and her occasional restless dreams, being slapped felt like a relief. 

I know she doesn’t trust me, and that she may not trust me for a very, very long time. But she hadn’t pulled away when I reached for her hand. I try not to think too hard about the way it felt to have her walk through the halls by my side, as my queen. And as I take another long sip of wine, I try very hard not to think too much about her sleeping in my bed.

After some time, The Bomb comes in and takes a seat, her chair pulled far enough back that she can prop her feet on the table. She gives me a knowing look from the corner of her eye. 

“Are you sleeping in the spymaster’s quarters again tonight? There’s a whole palace that belongs to you, you know. And some royal rooms that, although they are very well guarded, I think you could manage to sneak into,” she suggests, not facing me but giving me a sly smile nonetheless. 

“Just because she is my wife doesn’t mean she wants me sneaking into her room. . .”

“Your room,” she cuts me off with a wink. Did I really just refer to the royal chambers as Jude’s room? 

“The room where she’s sleeping,” I amend. “And... bothering her. Especially while she’s still healing from a sword fight with her redcap father. And then a subsequent fall from the rafters during an ill-conceived plan that was meant to protect me.” 

“You two need to talk,” she sighs, exasperated. 

I like that she speaks to me this way. Having been first Dain’s spy, and then Jude’s, she does not speak to me as a courtier would. I usually like her lack of deference, but her current directness has reminded me of everything Jude and I did discuss today. And how suspicious Jude may always be of my intentions.  Deservedly so.

“We did talk,” I say sullenly, and realize that my wine is gone. Reminding myself that no good has ever come of allowing myself to indulge too much, I start on the tea. I wish I enjoyed it as much as the wine. “She is angry with me. And I can’t say I blame her. And did I mention the part where she nearly died. . . very recently?”

The Bomb is still looking at me expectantly. She is a good spy. Observant. I assume she had noticed my worry and my pining during the time Jude was prisoner in the Undersea. Even if she hadn’t, she had been the first person to find me after Jude, pretending to be Taryn, had been taken by Madoc.  She had seen all of my panic. My rage. My desperation. It would have been obvious to anyone at that point, but my feelings for Jude were especially obvious to The Bomb.  Especially after I had consulted with her over and over about the kinds of things she thought Jude might want to include in the new Court of Shadows. Especially after I had sent her off to assist Jude rather than remain with me while I was actively dying from Balekin’s poisoning. 

The silence stretches on. And on. 

“You can stop looking at me like that. I am not sneaking off to press my luck with Jude while she is both injured and angry. Perhaps she will decide that ruling Elfhame alone is preferable to having to rule by my side.  She is more than capable of killing me with her bare hands, and I have given her good reason to do so.  I’m not certain I’m ready to provide her with the opportunity.” I might not mind her hands around my throat, but I’m trying to prioritize making her place as Queen feel secure over any of my ill-conceived desires.  As potent as those desires may be.

The Bomb sighs as she drops her feet from the table. “Very well, Your Majesty.  I have done all I can to speed Her Majesty’s healing.  She did seem more recovered today than I expected  -- especially for a mortal.” 

I think I want everyone to refer to Jude as Her Majesty at all times in my presence. I like the way it sounds. 

“I am certain we will all be relieved when our true spymaster is back in charge,” I manage to say in response. 

She makes her way to leave, but pauses at the door. “I have heard that Grima Mog knows a bit about healing elixirs -- a handy thing to know when you spend much of your time in battle. Although no one can help with Jude being angry, perhaps she can be of assistance with her recovery.”

With that, she leaves me to my thoughts and my tea. 

I stay for a long time, finishing the pot of tea and trying to unravel my thoughts, wondering how I can prove to Jude that I never wish for her to fear cruelty from me again. No answers come other than that she will need time to heal from the blows I have dealt as surely as she needs time to heal from her physical injuries. If I am lucky, she will recover swiftly from both. If not, I will wait. I can wait for her to be ready to forgive me.

I eventually leave the Court of Shadows and retire to the adjoining rooms, which the Bomb refers to as the spymaster’s chambers. I had them prepared for Jude, should she choose not to reside in the royal rooms. I had tried but could not find a way to connect her existing rooms to the new Court of Shadows. 

I stretch out on one side of the bed, picturing Jude in the space next to me. I remember the way we had tangled together in our exhaustion after exchanging our vows, lying together in the bed where she now sleeps. I close my eyes and remember her head on my shoulder, her hand resting lightly on my chest. Did she trust me then, only for me to ruin it? 

To be fair, she had just murdered my brother and conveniently not deigned to mention it.

I try to shove the uncomfortable thoughts away and get back to the memory of waking with her in my arms. But in my mind all I can see is the look in her eyes when she had slapped me, all fury and indignation. The look on her face when she told me she feared what I would do to her next. The way I could practically see her mind flitting through every unkind thing I had ever done to her. I find that, although they are not particularly comforting images, I am glad they have replaced the visions that have plagued me for days: her body plummeting from the rafters, her body in a pool of her own blood, her body lying motionless in my bed as I uselessly try to clean the blood from her hands. 

I fall asleep still touching the sore spot on my cheek.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this little scene that I could not get out of my head.  This is legit the first time I’ve written fanfiction in over a decade, and I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.  Which is why this was half-assedly posted from mobile last night for about an hour.

[riceballcatfb]

Made the Right Wish

Kyoru Week 2020, day 1 Rating: All ages  *Takes place post-manga, so read at your own risk!*

Title and story vaguely inspired by the verse below, which is the chorus of the song “What I’m Leaving For” by Lady A.

"Take a look at our little paradise

It ain't much, but baby you and I

picked the right star

made the right wish

there ain't nothing out there like this"

There were very few things that Kyo had truly been sure of in his life. In fact, he could only think of three things-he loved his son and unborn baby, he loved his wife, and he loved his job.

Well, four things.

This morning, as he lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady thrum of the rain on the roof, he was 150 percent sure he wanted to stay home today.

It had been four years today since the curse had broken. He'd kept track, watching each anniversary pass by with bated breath, praying that it wouldn't somehow rear its ugly face within him again. Or worse, within his son.

He had to remind himself that it was also the four year anniversary of the day he'd knelt in front of Tohru outside the hospital, clinging to her hand and begging her to accept his love.

She'd said yes. So not all about this day was bittersweet.

And now, here they were, in their own house by the sea, with a tiny red-headed boy sleeping in the next room.

With the end of the curse, Kyo had been stripped of his connection to the cat spirit, of course. So there was absolutely no logical reason for him to still feel sluggish when it rained-not that being possessed by a cat was particularly logical, either, he supposed.

Next to him, he heard Tohru stir. He glanced in her direction. She was on her side facing him, eyes still shut, hair in disarray from sleep. "Are you okay?" she whispered, still not opening her eyes.

Their son had been difficult last night, not wanting to go to sleep. Kyo had tried to help, but Hajime was a huge Mommy's boy right now, and Tohru inevitably ended up taking the brunt of his tantrum. She was exhausted. Yet, she had heard the rain just now and woken up to check on Kyo anyway.

His heart swelled at the realization, both with love and a sense of guilt.

He inhaled deeply and rolled over to face her. He rubbed his thumb against her cheekbone. She smiled wearily in response.

"I'm fine," he murmured. "I should be asking you that. How'd you get him to finally lie down?"

Her eyes fluttered open. She put her hand over his, holding it in place against her cheek. "I told him that he could sleep with us tonight, since you won't have to get up early for work tomorrow."

Kyo chuckled. "Smart thinking."

"It worked immediately," Tohru replied, letting out an airy laugh.

"He's a cuddle bug. Just like his mom."

Tohru's eyes were closed again now, but she still answered him. "You're pretty cuddly, yourself," she pointed out.

"I guess. Sometimes."

She quirked an eyebrow in response, making it clear that she thought it was more than sometimes.

"It would be nice if I could stay home and help you today," he said softly, leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose. He stayed closeby afterwards, admiring how peaceful her face looked. Her thick eyelashes, the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the pastel pink of her lips. He was so lucky.

"You should stay home today. But not to help me, to rest. It's raining."

He scoffed slightly. "Yeah, right. I don't have time to rest. And besides…" he paused, running a finger along the slight swell of her stomach, "...you're the one who should be resting."

"What if you stayed home and we both rested?"

"Then Hajime would just run the house, and I don't think either of us would like the consequences of that very much."

"He's got to be tired, too," she reminded him. Not only had he been up late last night, but he also irrationally felt ill every time it rained. "Let's have a movie day."

"Wait...are you serious?"

She opened her eyes again, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. "Yes. Why not?"

"Tohru, we need all the money we can get right now…"

She sighed and scooted closer, capturing his lips to silence him. "We're fine, Kyo-kun. You said you want to stay home. So stay home. You work hard for us."

Tohru wasn't working right then. Kyo had figured that watching a wild toddler and growing another little human added up to a full-time job. They were getting by on his income just fine, but Kyo wasn't sure if he'd ever honestly be able to stop worrying about money.

He sighed in defeat, pulling her into another kiss before answering. "Okay. You win. I'm making breakfast, though. What would you like?"

As Tohru opened her mouth--likely to protest his demand, Kyo thought--their mattress squeaked and drooped a little bit under a new weight. Tohru gasped in surprise as a little body wiggled its way between them.

Kyo ruffled their son's light red hair before giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Good morning, Hajime."

Hajime returned the sentiment by simply nuzzling his face against his father's chest. Just like Tohru had anticipated, he was groggy and likely not feeling well.

"Daddy's making breakfast today," Tohru told him, running her fingers through his messy hair. He batted her hand away and Tohru sighed at his grumpy mood, but also couldn't help but smile a bit at how he was clinging to Kyo. Hajime loved both his parents; there was no doubt about that. But with how attached he'd been to Tohru lately, moments like this where he only wanted Daddy had become more rare. Kyo smiled back at Tohru, knowing they were sharing the same thought.

"...Pancakes?" Hajime mumbled after a moment, tone muffled by Kyo's chest. Kyo nodded.

"Definitely. With chocolate chips?"

Hajime nodded, and Kyo got out of bed, scooping the toddler up with him. He propped Hajime up on his shoulders and headed out to the kitchen. Tohru sat up, shaking her head, dreading the impending sugar crash they'd have to deal with later.

She sat at the table in their living room, watching her boys make pancakes together. Well, really, Kyo made the pancakes and Hajime contributed by pouring the chocolate chips in. Moments like this were precious to her, and she knew they were to Kyo, too. Hajime likely wouldn't remember this exact point in time when he got older. But Tohru knew the small things like this would stay ingrained in her and Kyo's hearts forever. And soon they'd have another little boy to add in.

Pancakes were served at the table, where Tohru thanked her chefs with kisses on the cheeks. Hajime watched with wide eyes and a mouthful of food as Kyo turned on the TV and flipped through channels, looking for a movie they could all watch-the TV wasn't turned on much in their house. Kyo still didn't have much of a liking for movies, Tohru was just always too busy to really sit down and engross herself in a show, and Hajime spent too much time playing to really pay attention to anything happening on the mysterious screen.

When he got to a cartoon that made Hajime laugh, Kyo chuckled and set the remote down, pulling his son into his lap.

"Hang on!" Tohru said, springing up from her spot on the floor.

"Tohru," Kyo groaned. "Careful, please."

"I'm fine, Kyo-kun!" she insisted, already down the hall. A minute later, she returned with her arms full of pillows and throw blankets. Soon the little family was bundled up, Hajime in the middle, wrapped in so many blankets that Kyo told him he looked like a "Hajime burrito."

By the time the movie was over, Kyo's mind had been numbed by the shallow content, and he blinked a few times before looking over at Tohru. She was making an equally displeased face.

"That wasn't very well-written, was it?" she commented after a minute.

"Well, it's meant for kids his age," Kyo pointed out, looking down at their toddler. He sighed and laughed lowly when he noticed the boy's slow, even breathing and closed eyes. "And he wasn't even watching. When did he fall asleep?"

Tohru giggled, clamping a hand over her mouth to avoid disturbing Hajime. "I don't know."

Kyo leaned his head back against the wall behind him, letting his eyes flutter shut, as well. He'd kept himself going for this long, but the drowsiness the rain impeded him with was finally catching up with him. He sighed contentedly as Tohru ran her fingers through his hair, opening his eyes half-way to look over at her.

"I love you," he reminded her.

"I love you more."

He shook his head at that, but didn't really have the energy to get into a fake-argument about it like they did to mess with each other sometimes.

Tohru smiled in return before she spoke again. "I know you hate it when I have to go to the doctor by myself…"

Kyo sighed again, this time out of disappointment. "I should have taken yesterday off instead of today. Then I could have gone with you."

Tohru shook her head at his obvious bitterness. "The point of me bringing this up was, I found out what we're having."

Kyo's eyes opened fully as he looked over at his wife in surprise.

"I was trying to think of a fun way to tell you, but...I guess now's as good a time as any. It's another boy."

Kyo started crying almost immediately, unable to stop tears from sliding quietly down his cheeks. "I knew it," he whispered, wiping at his face. Tohru laughed. He had been insisting it was a boy for the entire pregnancy. Stubbornly, Tohru had always said it was a girl, though she really had no inkling one way or the other.

"You were right," she whispered back. "We need to start thinking of names."

Kyo nodded, sniffled a little, and leaned over to kiss her.

"Thank you for giving me a family. I love you."

"I love you, too. Now stop it, or you'll make me cry, too."

He chuckled and hugged Hajime a little closer. "I used to think that I used up all the luck in the universe when you started dating me. And then again when I proposed and you said yes. And then again, when Hajime was born. I don't know where the hell I'm getting enough luck to have another son."

Tohru wiped at her own now-wet cheeks, then reached over and smacked Kyo on the arm in playful protest. "Look what you did!"

He laughed and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Kyo-kun...you deserve this. All of it." She trailed her touch down to his left wrist, fingers tracing the spot where his prayer beads used to sit. The beads that were now in a drawer of their dresser, waiting until Hajime was old enough to hear the story and understand the significance of it.

Kyo shook his head slightly, but didn't argue.

"Well...I could never wish for anything more."

"Didn't we say we wanted one more baby after this one?" Tohru teased.

His eyes went wide. "Well, um...d-did we say that?"

She giggled. "We don't have to discuss it yet."

Kyo sighed in relief, shaking his head at his wife.

"You dork."

"I know what you mean, though. I don't think I could ever wish for anything more, either."

Kyo nodded and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Hajime's forehead and one to Tohru's belly. "We've made the right wishes. I mean, look where they got us."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852407

@kyoruweekofficial

[cynicalclassicist]

The Atheists Tragedy and The Lion King

So The Lion King is often termed as Hamlet with lions. Yet while looking around at Renaissance Tragedies I came across a piece called The Atheists Tragedy or The Honest Mans Revenge, which I feel resembles it more.

The play was written by Cyril Tourneur in 1611. He is also supposed to have written The Revenger’s Tragedy, published in 1607, now more generally thought to have been written by Thomas Middleton.

The play may be read here. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/55625/55625-h/55625-h.htm

A summary and further details may be read here. https://cord.ung.edu/athiests.html

So in The Atheists Tragedy we have the French Baron Montferrers, who has a son Charlemont and a brother D’amville (possibly a pun considering where he will end up), the titular Atheist. As this is the Renaissance the portrayal of atheists is... not exactly pleasant, the usual official perception then was that atheists were inherently immoral.

Like Scar D’amville plots to seize power over his nephew, while pretending to be a kindly uncle. When his nephew Charlemont wants to go off to war D’amville loans him the money to do so, despite Montferrers wishing his only son to stay.

Scar also manipulates Simba into going, firstly to the Elephant Graveyard, which Mufasa has told Simba not to go to, by telling him only the bravest lions go there. Then later outright telling him to run away.

D’amville murders his brother by throwing him into a pit, like Scar murders his brother by throwing him off a cliff.

Well it isn’t really the fall that kills the Baron, D’amville’s henchman Borachio smashes his skull with a stone.

Scar seizes power on the pretext that with his brother and nephew dead he is heir. D’amville fakes his nephew’s death, having his henchman Borachio bring a false message that Charlemont was killed in war, the war which he encouraged his nephew to leave for.

Scar seized power believing his nephew was dead, having sent his hyenas to kill his nephew after telling Simba to run away and never come back. However Simba escaped them and flees into exile.

D’amville also has a trouble with incompetent henchmen, sending Borachio to shoot Charlemont when he visits his father’s tomb. But the pistol misfires and Charlemont kills Borachio.

Both heroes encounter their father’s ghost, Charlemont sees his father’s ghost just after their death, telling him to return to France.

Simba meets his father’s spirit when he is grown, by the prompting of the Baboon Rafiki.

This is often compared to the ghost of Hamlet’s father but is very different. Hamlet’s father tells his son to avenge their murder. Mufasa and Montferrers tell their sons to return home, reminding them of their duties. Montferrers even says to leave vengeance to God.

Now this refers to a scene cut from the film but retained for stage version, possibly for the content. Scar holds power but is paranoid, then decides to produce an heir.

Scar in The Madness of King Scar comments: Without a queen, what am I? A dead end, no line, no descendants, no future. With a queen, I'll have cubs... Immortality will be mine! Immortality will be mine!

Nala enters, the eventual wife of his nephew. He then tries to seduce her, telling her:

We'll create a host of little Scars.

But she rejects this and flees the Pridelands.

As D’amville says at the end of the first scene when his sons Rousard and Sebastian enter:

Here are my sons.— There's my eternity. My life in them And their succession shall for ever live. And in my reason dwells the providence To add to life as much of happiness. Let all men lose, so I increase my gain, I have no feeling of another's pain.

To enhance this power D’amville has his elder son Rousard marry Castabella, the betrothed of Charlemont. However Rousard is sickly and thus unable to produce children. D’amville decides that in order to continue his line he will have children with his daughter-in-law.

D'Am. 'By my persuasion thou wert forced To marry one unable to perform The office of a husband. I was the author Of the wrong. My conscience suffers under't, and I would Disburthen it by satisfaction. Cast. How? D'Am. I will supply that pleasure to thee which he cannot.

Likewise Castabella is horrified, calling it incest due to her being his daughter-in-law. Charlemont then frightens his uncle away disguised as the ghost of his father.

In The Lion King Scar, when attacking Simba’s mother Sarabi sees Simba, initially mistaking them for Mufasa. Interestingly enough the live-action version has Scar having designs on Sarabi... as if pushing the Hamlet link more.

Incidentally D’amville’s schemes come to naught. Rousard dies of sickness, Sebastian, who objected to his brother’s marriage and is on bad terms with his father, has been having an affair with Castabella’s stepmother Levidulcia and performs a mutual kill duelling her husband Belforest to give time for her to escape. Which proves pointless as on finding both dead she kills herself.

Both D’amville and Scar start to lose their sanity. D’amville after counting the money from his brother’s revenues sees them in a dream. With his sons dead D’amville observes there may be a power above him. Before that he talks to the skulls in the graveyard, thinking his brother’s ghost is after him.

Scar in his madness still obsesses over his brother and plays with skulls.

Both have a meet-up between the love interests after escaping the villain. Charlemont forgives Castabella on finding out she was forced into the marriage and they lie down to sleep on skulls... of course fitting with the moralistic approach no further.

The Lion King, not being quite so conservative, has Simba and Nala meet in Can you feel the Love tonight and implies their union.

The Lion King clearly has the superior ending though. The Atheists Tragedy has Charlemont and Castabella sentenced to death for alleged fornication and Charlemont killing and D’amville agreeing to carry out the sentence.

In The Lion King Simba is accused of killing his father, with Scar forcing him back off a cliff in a similar way to how he killed Mufasa. Then when he tells Simba he killed Mufasa they are inspired to defeat them and force his confession.

D’amville himself tried to accuse his nephew of a crime when they first returned, having them arrested for not paying back the loan. Though his son Sebastian pays the money so their cousin can be released.

In The Atheists Tragedy...

D'Am. I ha' the trick on't, nephew. You shall see How easily I can put you out of pain.—Oh! [As he raises up the axe he strikes out his own brains, and staggers off the scaffold. Exe. In lifting up the axe I think he's knocked his brains out.

I would imagine that performing that on stage would get a laugh, especially with the Executioner’s comment.

But he’s still able to confess he was the villain before expiring.

Scar’s downfall works better, with him trying to throw the hyenas under the bus, surviving his battle with his nephew, but his hyenas, starved under his rule, turning on him.

Unlike Hamlet these works do not have the wronged party, the murdered figure’s son, take direct revenge. Frequently of course in Revenge Tragedies the Revenger will not survive the play, the implication being seeking personal revenge is a bad thing and will destroy you.

Simba does not actively seek revenge, refraining from killing his uncle when backing them into a corner and instead threatening them with exile. It is only when his uncle attacks that he fights, defending himself. Unlike Hamlet who plots revenge and in the process kills the innocent Polonius. Likewise Charlemont only fights for defence, killing Borachio when they try to kill him.

Hamlet is a much more questioning and complex character, questioning the natural order and natural rules. Charlemont is more of a good boy, doing what he should. This is contrasted with his uncle who completely opposed to natural rules, thinking of pleasure and the strength of his line, fitting the Renaissance stereotype of an atheist, even down to incest. His crimes are visited upon his sons, the elder with sickness, the younger, even though decent and honourable, also dies.

Charlemont says after his uncle’s death...

Charl. Only to Heaven I attribute the work, Whose gracious motives made me still forbear To be mine own revenger. Now I see That patience is the honest man's revenge.

The message is simple. Don’t take revenge yourself. Leave it to God. A quite conservative and pious approach. It is not overall a tragedy for Charlemont, who survives. Even the way the villain seems to lose through strokes of bad luck despite his cunning, one son falling ill after the forced marriage, another dying in a duel, a pistol misfiring, then D’amville himself dying in a contrived manner, seem to imply the agency of God.

The Revenger’s Tragedy is thought to act as a contrast, with the Revenger ending up dead.

Charlemont can now marry Castabella (still virgin due to her husband’s sickness) can wed.

The play ends with Charlemont saying

Charl. Thus, by the work of heaven, the men that thought To follow our dead bodies without tears Are dead themselves, and now we follow theirs.

Anyway with the villain dead Simba becomes King, and with Nala has a child, completing the circle of life.

All is good.

Of course The Lion King is quite by the basics in its Renaissance Play structure, I doubt the writers sought consciously to base it on this play. It’s just interesting food for thought. Perhaps because The Atheists Tragedy is so by the basics and standard moralistic and this is trying to tell a family friendly version of these plays.

Some good essays I found on this.

https://extra.shu.ac.uk/emls/journal/index.php/emls/article/view/446/325?fbclid=IwAR2ewO9GXlYLzL8Rqz2EqzR_ZpXdJMmFmoC2HxamR1p3m9fh6RcVsa9mmz0

https://ttu-ir.tdl.org/bitstream/handle/2346/19767/31295004630041.pdf?sequence=1&fbclid=IwAR19yKmgpvOVxEsO4fv65PtScBYVYxVxg3lYwZHJNANzXLMCSVEMi2raaqw

@blackcur-rants​ @epic-summaries​ @ylvisruinedmylife​

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 20- True Family

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

The past comes back to haunt Mumbo as a familiar, familial face returns to his life and offers him the unthinkable. Is Mumbo loyal to the hermits, or his he willing to return to the place he grew up in?

_________________________________

“Today’s the big day.” Iskall whispers, looking around the room. Once again packed full of hermits sitting on beds, on furniture, and on the floor. Mumbo hasn’t taken off his gold medal since he won it yesterday, even sleeping with such a spectacular prize. The only hermit missing from the group meeting was False. She made it to the final round of the endurance battle, facing off wave after wave of illusions. Pushed beyond exhaustion, hardly able to stand, she backed down from the last wave. She claimed she could’ve gone forward, but a sudden feeling of pressure on her shoulders, her head swimming and her magic falling from her bones left her unable to continue. She’s still in bed now, recuperating. Grian did his best to heal her illness, but when he attempted to, he discovered her magic was nearly drained. Beyond anything a spell could cause. She even looked pale, the pink color of her cheeks lost and her hair a platinum blonde.  The gold medal was won by Avon, beating out Doc and Jerome soundly, and False by a single  round. 

But Doc was still at the meeting. He didn’t last nearly as long as False, and while he was tired, it was nothing like what she has. Grian was able to heal his aching lungs, the wounds sustained from their fight with the Guild of Gideon. He was tired, but nothing was going to stop him from being a part of his own heist. He’s been looking forward to this for too long. To finally discover who’s the bastard that destroyed Gildara, that attacked the Asklepions, and tried to take out his friends, his family. 

“I never thought I’d say this, but we’re leading the Championship by leaps and bounds.” TFC chuckles, shaking his head. “I know we surprised the guilds, the Council, and all of Lairyon. But you all surprised me as well.”

“Guess Grian’s pep talk really brought the team spirit out in us.” Etho tosses a ball in the air, catching it and bouncing off Doc’s head. He’s the only one brave enough to anger the criminal. 

“Either way, whatever happens today, I just want to tell you all that I am so proud of all the work we’ve done. And best of all, no one suspects a thing as to why we’re really here. That being said, let’s go over today for everyone.” TFC clears his throat, skimming across the scroll in his hands. “This morning has the water battle. Ren, you’re going to be going against one of the wanderers, and judged based on your performance against all the other contestants. Stress, you’ll be playing in the kipling dodgeball. That’s a last one standing event, and we all know how hard you throw.” The guildmaster hums with a smirk, continuing down the schedule. “And in the afternoon is capture the flag. Tango?”

“They won’t even know what happened to their flag.” He grins, the healing wound on his cheek burning. But none of that will stop him from grinning. 

“That’s what i thought. Tonight is the duel- the biggest event of the games. All of Lairyon will be watching. Which makes it the best time for the heist. Our job is to put on a show while our infiltration team here learns the truth. Boys-” TFC stares directly at the heist team. “Do whatever it takes, we have your back. The rest of us, we’ll be supporting our fighters in the duel. If we win at least one event today, we’ve secured our spot in the Labyrinth run on the final day.” 

“Do you think we’ll actually win?” Joe questions. The labyrinth run is only for the top two teams. It’s a challenge beyond all challenges, an ever changing maze filled with enigmatic enchantments and feral beasts. 

“If not us, then certainly Team Crafted or the wanderers will. Either way, we made history. All of us, being the first nonguild team to win the championship.” TFC smiles, rolling up the scroll and slipping it in his bag. “Good luck to everyone, I dunno about you guys but I’m gonna go get myself a celebratory drink before the water battle. One that doesn’t taste like swampwater.” 

TFC hops over the rest of the hermits, sauntering out before anyone else can realize the meeting is over. Ren hops to his feet, only to be grabbed and held still by Doc. “We have our own heist meeting, man.” 

The guild filters out, but the sea of hermits is cut through by one sole fish swimming upstream. Quentin grabs at Mumbo’s sleeves, missing once, twice, before finally grabbing hold of the black fabric and tugging him to the side. “Mumbo, right? You- you’re Mumbo, the one that beat Ian in the tech competition? The multi-mage?”

Mumbo looks around, but the hermits have disappeared within the woodworks. “Ah, yep. That’s me. Is something wrong, chap?” 

“There’s some people down in the tavern that asked for you.” He pauses, looking up at him. “You specifically.” 

Mumbo frowns, his heart picking up pace and thumping against his chest. He clutches the black robes, trying to still the racing muscle trapped within his ribs. Is it the arcane guard? Do they know why the hermits are here? That they’re still congregating as a guild, not just a team? But why him specifically? Do they know he’s the easiest, perhaps they’re using him as bait, the fastest to lure into a trap? “O-Okay. Can you l-lead the way?” 

The kipling nods, blue and light orange curls bouncing across his finned ears. He guides Mumbo down the open, rickety steps. He jumps over the last one, to which Mumbo trips over as it buckles under him. He tumbles to the sticky wooden floor, rubbing his head. With one eye open, he winces and sees who’s here for him. 

“Mumbo. Still never got your own two feet beneath you?” Mumbo’s breath falls out from his lips, his father’s voice cutting across the wood. The upper crust, noble accent pricks against Mumbo’s ears, immediately souring his mood. He hasn’t seen his father since the morning of his last guild exam. The last thing his father had said to him- until now- was to never return home if he failed another test. 

“Father? What are you-” He falls silent as soon as his father raises his hand, motioning for him to be silent and stand. Dammit, Mumbo hates how he still has control over him like that. Hasn’t a year with the hermits taught him anything? 

“You did well, boy. Your magic has grown leaps and bounds since I last laid eyes upon you. I saw your performance yesterday. Yesterday, I had a son again.” Mumbo’s head snaps up, hearing that word fall from his father’s lips again. Mumbo’s lips open and close, only weak noises escaping his throat. A sharp glare from the grey eyes they share silences him once more. “Mumbo, it’s time for you to come home. You have brought honor to our house, as a champion,” His father’s eyes fall to the medal at Mumbo’s neck, eyeing the prize hungrily. “I’m sure every guild will welcome you after that.” 

Mumbo’s eyes snap up, and he steps back. “What? Why would I leave a perfectly good guild? Why would I leave my friends?” 

“Those ruffians are not a guild, Mumbo. Listen to your father, and come ho-” He reaches forward, only for his hand to jerk back as a spark of lightning crosses between father and son. 

“No! They’re my friends, they’re my guild! They care about me more than you ever did!” The tavern crackles with energy, lightning shooting out in small branches. 

“Be silent, boy. You’ve forgotten your place as a nobleman.” A dangerous glare meets Mumbo’s angered stare. 

“No! I’m done listening to you! The day you disowned me, I found a better family!” He remembers the pain of rejection, lost and alone in the alleys of Milliara. No family, no one to help him when a gang of robbers attacked. His father didn’t come to help- he was saved by Grian. A stranger saved him, now his best friend. The one who invited him to join the guild. 

“Those heathens? They aren’t a guild, Mumbo, they’re criminals! Would you really prefer that to your own flesh and blood? Your fam-”

“You’re not my family! You said it yourself. The hermits are always there for me, always my family no matter what. Whether I’m a champion or an amateur. They loved me despite my struggles, cared for me and welcomed me. It was their care, their devotion, their support that won this gold medal! This is for them, because of them. It’s not for you.” Mumbo steps up, feet leaving the ground as he looms over his father. “Grian, TFC, Xisuma...they’re better people than you ever were to me. They’re my family. I’m already home. Now- leave.” 

Mumbo doesn’t know when the nobleman leaves, he just hears the sound of the tavern door closing, the empty air before him. And that sticky floor, the old wooden boards, and the crooked iron nails are the best sight ever. He wipes his tears on his sleeve, crackling with lightning as his feet come to rest on the ground once again. He remembers to breathe, air rushing in and out of his lungs. When he opens his eyes again, there’s a mug of ale in front of him. He looks up, seeing Quentin leaning against the bar. How long was he there? Did he see that all? “You look like you could use a beer, man.” 

And with friends, even the worst tasting swill was the best thing ever. 

_______________________

Mumbo, Quentin, and a few other hermits joined to walk to the coliseum together. Grian and Iskall noticed Mumbo’s tearstained eyes, and did their best to keep him laughing. But he hardly needed it, just being with them was the best of all. The hermits take their seat, Quentin leaving to join his own team. He nodded to Stress, wishing her good luck in the dodgeball tournament they share later on. 

Hovering at visual height to the seats, an orb of freefloating water hangs in the air. Like a water droplet suspended midsplash, held aloft by a number of water mages- most kipling. In the water, the hermits can see Ren getting used to his wet surroundings. Across the other side of the battlefield, Red is floating. At home in her element. 

“Ah, this is going to be easy. Red’s so sweet and kind, Ren will easily win.” Stress chuckles, leaning forward and watching the two. “It’s not a tournament style- he just ‘as ta impress the judges an’ win this wee battle. He’s got it in the bag- Ren’ll show ‘em what an imagination wizard can do.” 

They're on the edge of their seats, peering into the water. Across the rippling mass, they can see the crown seat, the Council watching as Ren and Red bow. Magistrate Dolios leans back, resting his cheek on his hand. A small smirk appears on his face as the fight begins. 

Ren doesn’t wait, making the first move. A shark conjures up from his imagination, teeth in a circular jaw gnashing towards Red. He doesn’t back down, brushing his hand to the side with a happy-go-lucky smile on his face. A massive internal wave throws the shark off course, the undertow pulling on both his sundappled cloak and Ren’s ears. The imaginary shark dissipates into a school of colorful fish, schooling along the interface between air and water. 

The smile on Red’s face changes. Glittering, innocent eyes grow sharp, and Ren tucks his tail between his legs. He...may have underestimated the little kipling. The water around him shifts forward, dragging Ren closer to the kipling. He’s trapped in the rip current, unable to swim free. Even though he can breathe underwater thanks to mimicking a kipling, it’s still terrifying. He’s within striking distance, and Red doesn’t waste a second. A flash of light, illuminating from nowhere blinds Ren, but he rebounds quick thanks to his sunglasses. 

Just in time, too. Poison seeps through the water, brushing against his arm and leaving it numb. It would have paralyzed him, if he didn’t swim back. He imagines a barrier around him, his magic circle appearing briefly before turning into what he has in his head. How quickly the tides have turned, Ren forced into defense. 

Water tumbles and turns Ren, his own magic devoted solely to keeping himself from harm. A shield to block poison, a rubber ball to take on the electrocution. He sloshes backwards, the tips of his ears peeking out of the water bubble. Ren lowers his shields, creating coral platforms and jumping across. Rushing towards Red. He creates a giant fish hook, slinging it around Red. She only laughs, looking down at the ornately carved hook. “I’m not a guppy, you know.”

“I know.” Ren smirks, then pulls Red forward. Grabbing hold of his arm- just long enough for the magic to settle in. “Ladies get in line.” 

“Not a lady.” Red squeaks out, just in time before the hook disappears and he’s thrown back. A massive wave nearly casting Red from the water. Ren grins, rolling his shoulders and getting a feel for the new magic he’s mimicking. It’s only as strong as he is, but he knows he can make use of Red’s magic. Across the water, Red shakes his head, regaining his senses from the spin cycle. “Now it’s fun.” 

Red twirls, cloak wrapping around her as a curtain. She extends her arm, and snaps her fingers. Beneath the dueling wizards, kiplings jump back as the water they command is pulled from their control. The entire sphere of water is at Red’s command, tightening inwards. Forcing Ren to flee the constricting edge. He shoves his hands out. It keeps the water directly around him from disappearing, but he’s playing tug of war with a mage much more powerful than him. 

He huffs, breath and chest rising and falling. How is he already tired? Why does his throat feel like it’s closing up, his lungs pressing inwards? Why does it feel like he’s drowning, even though he can clearly breathe? He needs to win. Ren shoves his hands forward, and a tsunami pulses forward. 

The kipling just barely stops the massive wave from knocking him out. It thrashes Red, pulling on his fins and hair. One arm is cut against the coral outcrops, skeins of blood dancing in the orbiting water. For a battle, that was the first blood drawn- the beauty of magic. Ren puts his hands on his hips, accomplished. 

The sight of blood in the water, the scent, turns the kipling into a shark. Before Ren can realize what’s coming for him, it’s too late. The bubble reels backwards, gathering in strength and pulling on Ren. He stays rooted in place. Sharp teeth appear under a dangerous smile from Red. 

Ren’s doomed. He knows that. The wave surges forward, growing and ripplings. Cresting and crashing. Right on top of him. His safety bubble pops, the rushing water sending him sprawling into the mud at the floor of the stadium. His ears flick water, gasping air and coughing up the water still in his lungs. He completely forgot about the crowd until he hears the raucous cheering around him. Water splashes beside him, and he turns to see Red plopped beside him. Smiling that innocent smiling again. They’re both exhausted, beyond what they should be, struggling to breath. Red tilts her head, shaking hands with Ren. “That was an epic fight, your magic is super cool.” 

“Thanks, my dude. That was a sound thrashing. I bequeath the win to you. And I can only hope I stay on your good side.” Ren laughs, sitting up and shaking water off his hair and fur. Even though he lost, that was the most fun he’s had since Eremita. 

He could go for a fight like that everyday, if it didn’t mean he felt this horrible pain in his chest, the exhaustion in his body. What’s causing this? Why does he feel so tired? Why does his skin look pale, lost of color? Why does even his clothes seem dull?

And why does his magic feel like it’s gone missing?

[merryfortune]

The Clumsiest Dream Eater

Written for @yanmazu <3

As part of the @precuresecretexchange 

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure & Yes! PreCure 5

Ship: Nodoka & Nozomi

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags:  Alternate – Magic Mundane, Youkai, Chronic Illness, Hurt/Comfort, youkai!Nozomi

AN: I hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing these two’s friendship

  Nodoka woke with panic when she heard a tray in her room, or something similar, clatter to the ground. It clanged over and over again on the ground, and Nodoka heard muttered fuss, as well.

  Her heart raced and for good reason. She had just spent goodness knows how many hours, thrashing, hot and sweaty, against her bed but unable to wake up but now. For better or for worse, she was finally awake, and she could finally reef herself from the terrors of the nightmare that she was experiencing.

  But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she caught a silhouette haloed by a faint, pink light.

  “Oh, oops…?” a voice in the dark murmured.

  Nodoka blinked. This was a private hospital room. There shouldn’t be anyone – not even a nurse – at this hour but here she was. She had gained some kind of company in the wee hours of the night and though she ought to be afraid. She wasn’t.

  Staring at this figure who came a little bit closer, Nodoka felt calmed.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but it’s decided. A girl’s got to eat and you look really tasty.”

  “What?!” Nodoka exclaimed, her words feeling groggy.

  The figure all but screamed back in fright, “Oh, no, I’m such a dummy, I didn’t mean it like that!” She thumped on her head and Nodoka saw more of what exactly made this girl and her teleportation into a locked hospital room unusual.

  She had diamond-shaped ears atop her head, right in front of the tufted pigtails that she wore, tiny and tapir-like, Nodoka thought. She had tusks, too, on either side of her cheek like a huge smile. A cow-like tail whipped and thrashed about her in clumsy panic.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m hear to eat your bad dreams.” The girl said. “My name is Nozomi and I’m a Baku, it’s good to meet you.”

  Nodoka blinked. “Really?”

  “Truly.” Nozomi smiled.

  “thank you…” Nodoka whispered. “I was having a really scary dream, you know.”

  “I can tell.” Nozomi replied quietly. “But I haven’t eaten your bad dream yet, I’m afraid. I was about to but ughhhh. I bumped into something and woke you up.”

  She sashayed over to Nodoka and sat at her bedside. Nozomi pet the top of Nodoka’s head and she smiled.

  “But don’t worry, I can still eat it. The vapours of it are still all around.” Nozomi explained.

  Nodoka smiled with pinpricks of tears her eyes. She held onto her blanket, the softness of it was comforting.

  “Still. Thank you.” Nodoka smiled a weary smile.

  “It’s my pleasure.” Nozomi replied in what she hoped was a soft, comforting voice. (It was.)

  Nozomi’s hand fell back from atop Nodoka’s fluffy bob of russet hair and took her head. She closed her eyes and the vapours of Nodoka’s nightmare became illuminated. They looked like petals, Nodoka thought. They fluttered around, haloed by pink light and it was beautiful. They shone like stars in the stagnant darkness of her hospital room and she smiled delightedly.

  As she ate, Nozomi could tell that Nodoka was happy. That she was looking on with awe and wonder as Nozomi had Nodoka’s nightmares for a late-night snack. They held each other’s hands as one by one, the rose petals of light disappeared. Absorbed by Nozomi who nattered contentedly as she mulled over the various flavours of Nodoka’s fears. It was almost sad, Nodoka thought, as she watched the final rose petal disappear.

  “Thank you for this meal.” Nozomi gurgled happily.

  “Thank you for coming around.” Nodoka giggled.

  Nozomi got to her feet and it sounded like hooves, truth be told, on the floorboards. She stretched herself left and then right. It was always good to exercise after a meal, or so the doctors said, Nodoka thought as she observed how Nozomi flexed. She then turned on her heel and flashed a huge smile.

  “I best be going home now.” Nozomi said.

  “What, no? I was… I was, um, hoping you could stay.” Nodoka said and she outreached her hand.

  “Really, why?” Nozomi said.

  Nodoka grew fidgety and she averted her gaze. Nozomi was very bright. “I-It’s – It’s, um, kind of like a pyjama party.” she confessed in a tiny voice.

  Nozomi gasped. “Yeah, it is kinda.” She giggled.

  Nodoka smiled awkwardly.

  “Its against the rules for me to stay too long but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Nozomi said and she came down to her knees at Nodoka’s bedside. She rested her chin in her hands on the bed and she gazed dotingly up at Nodoka. “Baku are good luck charms.”

  “They are?” Nodoka asked.

  “A-yup.” Nozomi chirruped. “So whilst I can’t stay long, I can make sure you have sweet dreams for all the rest of the night, if you like.”

  “I’d appreciate that…” Nodoka replied.

  “Okeydokey.”

  Nozomi got up again but her hands, like paws, remained kneading on the bed side where Nodoka sat upright. She leaned in and pecked Nodoka’s forehead.

  “Baku like me live deep in the forest and tonight, I hope you get to visit in your dreams.” Nozomi replied.

  Nodoka blushed. There was a gentle glow atop her forehead, an echo of Nozomi’s kiss.

  “I hope we’re able to hang out later, too.” Nozomi added.

  Nodoka lifted her hand to her forehead, like she would if she was trying to gauge a fever. She was warm, she noted with a fuzzy feeling in her heart rather than an ominous one.

  “Thank you, Nozomi, I’m glad to have met you.” Nodoka replied.

  “I shouldn’t wish nightmares on people,” Nozomi erred, “but I hope we meet again soon.”

  “Me too.” Nodoka replied but she laughed darkly. She knew that she had more bad dreams than good dreams, but it was strangely heartening to know they weren’t wasted, if it meant a Baku could eat…

  “Good night, Nodoka, and sweet dreams too.” Nozomi whispered.

  Nodoka yawned and her eyelids grew heavy. Her heart was calm. Contented. She didn’t want to fall back asleep. Not just yet but Nozomi waved her goodbye and just as she blinked, slowly, like in a trance, she fell back asleep. Her head hit the pillow and her last thoughts were of Nozomi. And that pink glow that Nozomi possessed dissipated, became not even a flicker on Nodoka’s closed eyelids as she succumbed to slumber.

  Please don’t be dream, please don’t be a dream, please don’t be a delirium-

  She missed Nozomi already, but she fell asleep and she dreamt of vast, bamboo valleys and tall mountains and yes, of Nozomi who played and talked with others of her kin. All of them were oxen-tailed and hoofed and with diamond-shaped, tapir ears. None of them saw Nodoka, she felt translucent even in the dream, but she enjoyed it, nonetheless. She could swear she felt the gentle zephyrs on her skin, and she could swear that she smelt the fresh, mountain air. It was lovely.

  But like all dreams, Nodoka did awaken in the morning and she still remembered her otherworldly companion from the night before. She was roused by a nurse for her morning meal and the woman blinked.

  “Did you sleep on your stomach, last night?” she asked.

  “Huh? I don’t think so.” Nodoka replied.

  “You have a mark on your forehead, is all.” the nurse explained.

  Nodoka’s heart soared. Later, after breakfast, Nodoka looked in the mirror and beamed as she held back her fringe. Her gaze transfixed on that slightly curved mark of a faint pink that was on her forehead. It may have been feeble proof, but it was still proof. The balm that Nozomi used on her lips still remained on Nodoka’s forehead from where she had gifted her with a good, sweet dream of where the Baku like herself hailed.

[pbandjesse]

I did not sleep well last night and I was worried it would make today bad but honestly I had another really awesome day. I am so sad that tomorrow is the last day Ill be there until the summer. But also like. It feels good to feel so good at work again. 

But like I said. Sleep was bad last night. My back hurt really bad and I tried everything I know. Stretching, laying in the studio, laying on the couch. I just could not feel comfortable and I was super upset. I eventually fell asleep but it was way closer to 2am than I expected. 

So when my alarm went off I was very. Unhappy. But I got up and got dressed and honestly I felt good. Or at least good enough. James was kind enough to put air in the car tires so i wouldnt have to worry about it. And I was able to leave a little later today and still get to work before anyone else. 

I had a lovely day. It was cool but much less windy and I was much more comfortable. And it was really a great time. I got all the art supplies together, and put that all in the cabins. The kids got there pretty quick and we went up to the cabin before we headed to do some rope things. I am really lucky because this group is just so chill and kind. They have made this week such a great time and I just feel really lucky. They are just all so nice. 

When we got to the cabin we had a few minutes so we played a name game and they did a good job. They really "buy in" to the who hokey camp thing and it makes things so much nicer and more fun. And when we did the rope element they all worked so well together to encourage eachother. Just such excellent kids. 

We made an obstacle course for their field time. I tidied up the sports shed while the kids got the course ready. I had a lot of fun cleaning that up and when the kids ran their course I timed them and the best time was 38 seconds. It was so fun. 

We did lunch and I have to repack my food because I felt sick eating what I packed. I will go figure that out after I finish this up. When the kids were done with lunch I set up art supplies and they made paper collages. They love the idea of doing community projects together so they made a collage as a group. And the ones who wanted to do something else collected large sticks for our shelter building project tomorrow. Its supposed to rain tomorrow so we wanted to get all the wood on the porch so it wouldnt be wet and we could potentially use it for a camp fire. 

At some point we ended up talking about art school. And they had so many questions and we started talking about what critique does and how you can lead a conversation to get the info that is helpful. And that lead to talking about contemporary art and sculpture and my feels about museums and labels and it was so cute because they were asking great questions and responding so well. I honestly talked at them for almost a half hour. It was ridiculous and now they just want me to tell them "art stories" all the time. 

I also told them that a few years ago at MCAD camp the kids would play a game where they would just ask me to tell them about a topic and I would think of any of the fun facts I have in my mind on any thing they want to know about. So now thats going to be a thing Im sure. So far they have asked about chips and ships. They think it very funny that I have had so many different jobs and done so many different things. It is a very nice ego boost honestly. 

Me and Erin let them play in the gaga ball pit for a while. We just laid in the grass and talked for a while. I ended up explaining the entire bronze casting process to her. We talked about art school and games and just college in general. Shes really cool. Im glad we got paired up this week. She had some fun team building games for them to play, like a human knot and this funny one where they all stand on a tarp and have to figure out how to flip the tarp without stepping off of it. So that was very silly. 

We ended the day with rock climbing. I had them play a quiet game while they waited. And told them stories of my bike crash and working on the boats. I really like this group of kids. They told me today they hope they can be a group this summer and I really hope that can happen for them because they are all so sweet together. Honestly Im being spoiled with them. Excellent children. 

But I was still glad to be done at the end of the day. I got them all to pick up after snack. And then cleaned up before going to the office. 

There was some stress at the end of the day when we realized a visitor had done a hit and run on one of the staff's cars. So that was a whole upsetting thing. I hope it can be worked out. But it was time for me to go home. 

The drive felt long but it wasnt bad. I got home at 530 and was just really happy to be here. 

James was making me pasta because they are great. I was not feeling so great though. My sinuses hurt and my body ached. James held me on the couch for a little while. We had dinner. And I played a few minutes of animal crossing. But I was just tired so Ive been laying in bed since then. I think now I am just going to shower and get in bed. I really really hope I can just sleep tonight. Because tomorrow will be a lot. Because its going to storm. And Im leading the art programs. And like. Its gonna be fine. But also the rain makes me sleepy. So wish me luck. 

Also just as a final note. Today is 10 years since I made this blog. So thats exciting! Im not going to make a big to do about it because the actual day to day posts didnt start until August. So its exciting but mostly just a footnote. 

But now is time for sleep. Goodnight everyone. 

[thedeviltohisangel]

I Know It’s Too Late//2

“I’m here. You have me. You can come up for air. You can breathe again.” Because she knew his tears weren’t because he was sad or even because he was happy. They were because he was tired. Tired of looking one way and feeling another. Tired of no one being able to see what was going on underneath it all. Tired of knowing that it will never be different.

But on that sidewalk on a warm night in Chicago, Jay held her tightly and he knew. Knew he’d be okay. 

masterlist is my url/writing.

send me what you wish to see next from these two.

“Of all the people in this entire city…”

“I know, I know, I pick the one I’ve already broken up with.” Meg was trying to concentrate on her eyeliner but her friend Leila was making it near impossible. “Therapist did say I might find myself seeking comfort in old habits.” 

“I just get nervous. You loved him so hard last time and it didn’t work. And you have Aria now.” The baby in question gurgled with a smile. 

“I’ve already lost sleep over how careful I have to be. Lost sleep over whether or not dating is even an appropriate thing to do. But it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. I am not going to assume anything.” She paced back into the bathroom and fluffed her hair one last time before she felt like she was ready to face the outside world. “Let me cry saying goodbye before you give me a final lookover.” Meg cradled her daughter against her chest and peppered the top of her head with kisses.

“Thank you for trusting me to watch her.” After everything that had happened with her ex, Meg had closed ranks on who was in her life and in her daughter’s. For her to trust Leila with watching her was a big deal. 

“Thanks for being a good friend through everything that is happening.” She projected all of her love through her touches into her daughter so she would know that even when she was not there, she loved her more than anything. “I’ll be back before you even know it. I love you, my sweet girl.” Reluctantly, she handed Aria back to her friend and then squared her shoulders in anticipation of the final once over.

“I think you look hot. Like you got some mojo flowing through you.”

“Perfect. Have I kept him waiting long enough?” Leila had told her that going outside as soon as he texted he was here was not the right move. That she should let him squirm a little.

“You should be good. Be safe tonight but most importantly, don’t worry about us and have fun.” Meg had been spending the past few months with more stress in her body than she knew what to do with. This night was one she needed and well overdo.

“I promise I will try my best. Love you, Ari and thanks again, Lei!” She shut the door behind her and felt empty. Standing by herself in the hallway with no equipment bag or armor or stroller to push. For so long she had been living in relation to others. It felt odd to be living for herself.

“You look beautiful.” And she hated that seeing Jay and hearing his voice made her feel right again. Hated that she had such a power over her. That she still loved him with all she had.

“Thanks. Sorry I took a minute. Saying goodbye to my daughter is never easy.” He opened his truck door for her and quickly went to his side.

“I always pictured you with a daughter. What’s her name?”

“Aria. I am so wrapped around her finger and it’s not even been a full year yet.” She couldn’t help but smile at the mere mention of her daughter. And it was infectious, Jay smiling too. “I know I dropped quite the bomb on you yesterday.”

“You just being there was enough. Let alone that you’re a mom now.” She had always been a known in his life. Steady and sure and always there. Then she wasn’t and now she was. It was hard to wrap his mind around.

“I thought about looking you up so many times. I just never had the courage.” Meg hadn’t wanted to be confronted with the choice of continuing to live without him or going to be with him. At her lowest points, it was Jay she dreamed about. But running felt like quitting and quitting felt like weakness.

“Will’s here, my dad is here. It felt like the right thing to do after so long away.” She knew his dad was a sore subject. Was surprised he brought him up at all.

“Sometimes what is familiar is what we seek after trauma.” It was rich coming from her and she knew that. That was exactly what she was doing. Albeit unintentionally but it was exactly what was happening. He chuckled at her words.

“You sound like you have to repeat what your shrink told you or you won’t believe it.”

“I have a thick skull, you know that. Things need to be said repeatedly or they won’t penetrate.”

“You remember when you first got there and that mortar hit right by your bunk?” She would never forget. A green, rookie soldier on her first deployment. The impact of that hit had shook her to the core but she never shook again. “Everyone had a bit of ringing in their ears but you were good. You said you had a thick skull.”

“It’s hard to think about the first day...first few days. The last time I felt clean,” she whispered as she looked out the window. 

“Hey, come back.” Jay reached for her hand on her lap and she let him take it, both of them squeezing tightly one their fingers were woven together. “You don’t have to be ashamed of what you did over there or the effect it is having on you now.” It was the opposite of the words her ex had been saying to her. Telling her she was messed up in the head. That she needed to handle herself better. That she would never be right again and he couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t want their daughter around it.

“I missed the way you always knew what I needed to hear.” He put the truck into park as they reached their final destination and did his best to hold her against his chest with the console between them.

“You got me now, Meg. You’re the only one who could possibly understand what I went through over there. What I’m going through by coming back here. I know things have changed and we aren’t the same people we were before but…”

“One day at a time,” she said to him softly. Her hand came to cradle his cheek and his skin felt like a salve against her own. His forehead knocked against hers and he closed his eyes. He made no move to kiss her. Just two people enjoying the closeness of the one they love and hope to love again.

“I’d move an inch at a time if I knew it’d mean you’d be by my side.”

“I’m here, Jay, I’m here.” And maybe this was what healing looked like.

“So tell me more about Officer Halstead.”

“It’s Detective actually,” he said with a smirk as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. 

“My apologies, Detective.” It made sense and it didn’t at the same time that Jay had gone and become a cop. It was believable because he had always had a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. Had always wanted to help the incident. Always wanted to protect. But holding a gun and running into buildings felt like an extension of what he had done overseas. Meg couldn’t judge for not completely putting it away as she was doing exactly the same thing. She had thought Jay’s conviction was stronger than hers. That his need to put the past behind him would translate into reality.

“You got your thinking face on,” he said in a teasing tone but a question was mixed in there.

“Just thinking how we both got out physically but not in reality. How we’re both doing what we were just in a different uniform.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you look better in those blue pants than you did in the camo.”

“Oh, shut up.” She swatted at him playfully as he had leaned over the table to tell her as if it was a sacred secret. “They don’t design those uniforms for women and you know that.” Meg emphasized her words with a stab of her fork in his direction. 

“I know. I was there when you spoke at that university about it.”

“It was more than just ill fitting t-shirts and long pants.” Jay remembered. He remembered because it was the day he went and bought an engagement ring. He remembered because he had never been more enamored by her. More in love with her than he had watching her speak about something she was passionate about. Watching others look at her in awe and knowing that he was the luck bastard who got to know her. That he really didn’t deserve her but was going to take the leap of faith anyways. And how could he ever forget her not being there when he woke up the next morning? “We should talk about that. Eventually.” Meg wasn’t ready to. Even though it had been bouncing around her nightmares for awhile, she wasn’t ready to admit it was real. Admit to all of the wasted time and heartache.

“If we want this to be...what we tried for last time, then we do. But if you want to just be us then-”

“Jay-”

“-you have a baby now and some guy who may or may not be in your life because of your daughter and I get that and want to be respectful-”

“Jay!” He stopped rambling and just looked at her. “He left, okay? He left because I’m not the same person I was before. Because I’m fucked up in the head and sometimes it makes itself apparent to other people and he hated me for it.”

“Meg-” Jay reached for her and she pulled back.

“I’ve tried to get help. I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried and it doesn’t fucking work so if you want things to be the way they were or normal or...or...they won’t be.” She took a few gulps of air and tried to steady herself. The room was beginning to spin and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Jay…” She sounded scared to her own ears but he recognized what was happening instantly. Had gone through it himself. Without a word, he threw some money on the table, wrapped her in his jacket and exited the restaurant.

“Deep breaths, okay? You’re here, with me, on a sidewalk in Chicago. You have a daughter and we just ate dinner and we’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.” She breathed in time with his words and slowly felt herself return to normal. 

“Thank you.” Meg shouldn’t have been surprised that he was so able to identify what was going on and remedy it. Maybe he had lost control of himself in the same way. Maybe they had been waiting a while to have each as a steadying force again. “It doesn’t happen often but when it does…”

“You never have to explain stuff like that to me. You know I know.” And he wishes he didn’t. Wishes that things were easier. That answering the call didn’t have to take the toll that it did. That he knew a way to protect her from herself.

“I wish you didn’t have to.” It made her feel vulnerable to know that Jay could tell what was going on inside of her head. It was such a wild and twisted place where she had no control. It was her dirty little secret. And having him stand there looking at her, seeing her, in a way she hadn’t been seen since the last time their paths had crossed...it was scary and beautiful and too much all at once. But it felt good and necessary and like the world was coming back into focus. Like keeping her distance had only made everything worse. And coming back was the remedy for the painful echoes in her skull. For the splinters of her old self in her chest. For the tremble in her hands and the visions in her sleep and the darkness in the corners of her soul.

“If I didn’t, then I would be here with you.” He let the words hang between them for a moment as he drank her in. “And this...this never stopped feeling right.” It hurt to know they had spent time apart. Hurt to know she had found someone else and tried to build a life with them. Hurt to know that Jay was born to protect and hadn’t been able to shield the person who meant the most. Because if he was meant to protect everyone, he knows he is only meant to love her.

“When I left, you said that if we found our way back together again you’d never let me leave again.”

“Meg, I’m not gonna stand in your way. Especially with your daughter. But now that I know you’re here, so close and I’ve spent this night feeling the best I ever have...letting you go again would be even harder than the first time.” She kissed him. Kissed him like it was the only way she could continue living. Because she couldn’t find the words and didn’t think they would mean much even if she could. And she felt the tears rolling down his face and knew. Knew that there was no going back. Knew he had been hurting in the same ways she had. Knew that they had been torn apart so she could have her daughter but that they were always meant to find their way back together. That two broken pieces need each other to be whole again.

“I’m here. You have me. You can come up for air. You can breathe again.” Because she knew his tears weren’t because he was sad or even because he was happy. They were because he was tired. Tired of looking one way and feeling another. Tired of no one being able to see what was going on underneath it all. Tired of knowing that it will never be different.

But on that sidewalk on a warm night in Chicago, Jay held her tightly and he knew. Knew he’d be okay. 

Tags:

@h0llandshalstead​

@mheart27​

@amylouwho9​

[sincerelyreidburke]

ooh also 4 for Bri and Reid because I love them

Friends! Romans! Countrymen! ARE YOU READY for some good shit?!?! I say this because this is my very first time writing Reid/Bri! I mean, they’ve been in the background a few times in drama club stuff, but I’ve never actually gotten to focus on them. Toby enables me, because xe loves me.

“Who’s Bri?” Reid’s girlfriend!

In today’s episode of prompts, you will get a glimpse into Reid’s post-graduation life! If you want to read more about what’s in store for him after Kiersey, you can check out this post. And even this one, too, if you’d like.

Here, you’ll see a Reid two years removed from graduation and a little down on his luck. You also finally get to see inside his brain. *Slaps hood of Reid Burke* This bad boy can fit so much mental illness in him.

From this list of sappy prompts, which I am still accepting and filling as we speak!

4. “Shut up and kiss me.”

two years after (reid's) graduation | may

 Reid considers himself spectacularly efficient when it comes to fucking things up.

He knows this. Has always known it. He figures it’s a good thing to be self-aware, at least. He’s probably one of the more self-aware human beings to ever have a conscience, come to think of it, given the amount of time he spends policing his own every action. But still. There has to be some benefit in being so well aware of your own flaws that you can constantly predict your fuck-ups before they even happen. It’s like damage control when the damage hasn’t even set in.

Anyway. Reid knows he’s good at fucking up. But if there’s one thing he would really prefer not to fuck up, it’s Bri’s birthday.

Easier said than done.

When midnight strikes on the day she’s turning 24, he’s not even home, which is the first reason he feels guilty and useless. He’s at work, apron around his waist, tie done up too tight, sneaking glances at the clock across the room in between customers and refills. He wishes he had his phone on him, as the minute hand lines up with the second hand at the 12. He could at least text her. He could make up for the fact that he’s not there in person, to ring in the first moments of the day. But his phone is in the back, in his locker, because this is the best-paying place he works at, and he doesn’t want to risk his employment by getting caught with a phone by his manager. Or worse, a nosy customer, who will subsequently rat him out to his manager, and, well— yeah. Not to mention the fact that it’s usually so fast-paced in the bar that there’s no time to check your phone anyway.

The point is. He wishes he could text Bri. But he can’t. It’s probably for the best. She’s probably not even awake. It would actually be bad if she were awake. A healthy sleep schedule is something she deserves.

Actually, she deserves a lot. The entire world. A lot more than Reid has ever been able to give her, and there isn’t a day that goes by when his brain fails to remind him of that particular fuckup in his life thus far. But tonight, he shouldn’t think in huge terms. Tonight, he should just worry about her birthday.

Man, he wishes he were home in bed.

The strike of midnight, although it provides something to focus on, isn’t even the sign of his shift nearing an end, because the bar doesn’t close until 2:30, and the latter two and a half hours of work wind up passing by even more slowly than the beginning of his shift did. When he finally sees his last customer out, after last call, and he’s the only lonely, lingering person in the place— then, the end is in sight. He has closing chores ahead of him, but at least he doesn’t have to wait around to go home anymore.

It’s nothing that out of the ordinary, really, to be working this late. Between three jobs and sneaking in open mic nights between them any chance he can, he can’t remember the last time he had a night entirely off. Or a day, honestly, and tomorrow— or today, since it’s past midnight— isn’t any exception. He has the lunch shift at the street diner he works at, and the jury’s still out as to whether he’s going to bag his shift at the second bar he works at tomorrow night.

All of this is to say: he’s working a lot. Which is fine. Work means money, which means staying alive, especially with the New York cost of living he’s gotten used to since they moved here after graduation. It’s a necessary part of life. He just wishes life could stop, for one day, so he could do this right. So he could at least give her something, to make up for all the areas in life where he’s lacking. Where he’s an extremely underwhelming excuse for a future husband.

And, look— he did actually get her a present, so that’s not the issue here. It’s more the lack of time. It’s more the overwhelming sense that, despite her stability, despite the fact that she’s stuck with him for six years, he doesn’t deserve this patience, and that one day she might finally come to her senses and decide that she doesn’t feel like waiting around while he slums it in New York and tries to make it big, that she wants, like, a normal life, with a partner who makes a salary and a house or at least an apartment with more than one room and, like, basic predictability and success—

Ugh.

For now, for this very early morning, he won’t think about all of that, no matter how much it rings in his ears as he cleans up and closes the bar. For now, he just wants to make sure Bri has the most perfect morning possible. And to do that, he has a checklist.

Step one: finish work. He considers that done as he locks the front door of the bar, and steps out onto the street. It’s kind of breezy but not exactly cold out, since Bri’s birthday marks the last day of May, and summer is pretty much here. It’s not really busy outside on the street, but he’s not the only one out, either. Rule number one of New York City: you are literally never the only person out and about, no matter what time of day it is.

Step two: the bodega. It’s on his walk, open twenty-four hours, and he stops there so often at weird hours of the night after work shifts that he’s established a rapport with the cashier who works the red-eye shift. “Eyyyyyy,” he sings, as he swings through the door into the small, artificially lit space. “What’s up, Charlie? You working hard, or hardly working?”

Actually, it’s not so much a rapport. It’s more that he’s constantly the loudest customer who graces this place between the hours of midnight and four in the morning, and Charlie probably hates him, but still tolerates his presence. So.

He needs flour, half a dozen eggs, a tied-up bunch of yellow and white flowers, and rainbow sprinkles. He also slides three Red Bull onto Charlie’s till, and then grins across the counter to remark, “The necessities.”

Charlie grunts or maybe chuckles, and scans his stuff. “Right.”

Step three: get home and get to work.

It’s, like, six minutes on foot from work to the bodega, and then four more to the subway stop, and then the subway is a whole host of issues that land him back at the apartment building around 3:30 in the morning. Bri’s alarm goes off at 6:30 for work, and he figures he can intercept her for a proper birthday breakfast before she goes to the gallery. Given that he kills one of the Red Bull from the bodega while he’s in transit to get home, he is at least ninety percent confident that there’s no point in not pulling an all-nighter.

It’s fine. He’s not even tired. He has stuff to do, anyway.

The apartment is dark when he gets in, and he tries to make the smallest amount of noise, which, when you think about it, is kind of pointless because it’s only one room and any noise he makes could count as a disturbance, but— but— Bri isn’t a light enough sleeper to wake up at that kind of stuff. A fact he is grateful for. So he puts the bag of groceries down, gently, on the counter, and turns the light on over the sink while he loosens his tie. Or more like yanks it off. The uniform at that job is seriously not his style, but you take what you can get.

Across the room, where their bed is tucked up into the corner, Bri is asleep. Thank Christ. He would be concerned if she weren’t. While he gets out of his work clothes, he looks at her in bed— she’s peaceful, and looks comfortable, and he kind of wants for a second to just crawl into bed with her, but if he does that, he’ll never get anything done in time, and she’ll wake up to a normal old morning. With nothing special. On her birthday.

She doesn’t deserve that.

When he’s finished changing, it’s 3:41 Apple time. The morning is young. He sneaks a kiss to the top of her head and pulls the covers a little higher over her shoulders, then slides across the room in his socks, back to the kitchen side of the apartment.

Sure, he’s great at fuck-ups. But he’s not going to let this one be a bust.

*

It’s a quick three hours.

He blames executive dysfunction. Time passes too quickly when he’s on a crunch, literally every time. He starts with her card, which he bought a few days ago— writes it out, seals it into its envelope, and weighs it down with the corner of one of her vases, which he fills with water and puts the flowers in. It’s glass-blown, psychedelic colors; she made it in the glass studio junior year at Kiersey, and it followed them to New York.

With that done, he gets all his ingredients out for breakfast. He can’t start cooking at 4 in the morning, but he can get ready— a bowl out on the counter, their one good frying pan on the griddle, dry ingredients for pancakes measured out. He’s not the most versatile cook in the world, but he makes a mean Kraft Dinner, and this, too, he can do— birthday cake pancakes. With sprinkles. It’s Bri’s favorite breakfast.

He doesn’t know how it winds up being 6:30. He loses time, doing all of this and also nothing at all. He’s two and a half Red Bull deep, mixing up the actual pancake batter, when Bri’s alarm tone across the room pulls him out of his haze.

“Shit,” he hisses, and nearly knocks over his frying pan. It’s 6:30 already? The kitchen is a mess, and he’s been stuck in the distractible part of his brain for the better half of the past two hours, and now he looks like he’s made a huge mess, and—

The alarm stops going off, and he hears the mattress shift. He’s rinsing off the questionable spatula he’s been using to mix the batter in the sink when he hears her voice. “Babe?”

“Hey— hey, good morning.” He turns, and puts his back to the counter, like it’ll hide the actual disaster he’s created. “Happy birthday,” he adds. “Did you sleep okay?”

Bri is sitting up halfway in bed, and she doesn’t answer his question. “What are—” She yawns, and holds a hand to her mouth, which is really fucking cute, the way her eyes get all wrinkled up like this, and he just— loves her, and wishes he weren’t so useless, wishes he could give her the world. When she finishes her sentence, her voice is raspy. That’s cute, too. “What’re you doing over there?”

“I’m, uh.” And busted. He might as well own up to the mess. “Well, I realize now that it looks like a bomb went off in here, but don’t worry; I’ll fix it. I was just— well, breakfast. I’m making breakfast. But it’s not ready yet. It will be. Promise.” He lets all his breath out at once, then tries a grin. “But did you? Sleep okay?”

Again, she doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she swings her legs off the side of the bed, and gets up to walk across the room. He meets her halfway, as she’s combing back her hair, a blonde, wavy, bedhead-y and beautiful mess. She’s in pajama shorts and a tank top, and he may be sleep-deprived and totally useless, but he is the luckiest guy on this planet. “How long’ve you been up?” she asks.

He rests his hands, gently, on her waist, and looks down to meet her eyes, which are hazy with sleep but always so fucking pretty. “I… don’t know if you would love the answer to that question,” he replies, because she’d see right through him even if he wanted to lie about it.

She smiles, but it’s a sympathetic expression, like she can see the Red Bull coursing through his veins or some shit like that. “Answer anyway.”

“Um.” Okay, busted. For real this time. While she hooks her arms around his neck, he tries to gather an explanation. “Okay, so I may not have slept, but hear me out, okay? I wanted to make sure I had stuff in a row so that when you woke up, it’d all be good for you, since I know we kinda have, like, a limited window here, and I didn’t want you to just have to eat, like, peanut butter toast on your birthday, right? Like, that would suck, and also, I was already up because of work, and I had stuff to do anyway, so basically, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t sleep at all, but on the bright side, there is pancake batter ready for you, and I promise I’m gonna clean up all the cooking shit ASAP because I know it looks like a war zone in this kitchen right now—”

“Reid.”

He stops. Her voice is gentle, and she’s smiling— it’s not the pity smile anymore, but just a regular smile. She threads her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he breathes, almost instinctively. “Sorry. That was so much. You just woke up. Hi. I love you. Happy birthday. You look really hot right now.”

Bri laughs, and leans up, on tiptoe, until her forehead is right on his. “Reid,” she repeats, even more gently, and he lets out all his breath again, closes his eyes. “Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He tries to do as she says. It’s really not hard to breathe; he just forgets that’s a necessary bodily task from time to time. No big whoop. “I promise I’ll clean it up. And I’ll make the pancakes, and— wait, shit!” The realization hits him all at once, and his stomach sinks. “Shit. Fuck. I don’t think we have whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream?” Bri asks, and she sort of laughs, like she’s confused, but this is very bad, because that’s a necessary part of any balanced pancake breakfast, right?

“Fuck,” he repeats, and then groans, bumping his forehead against hers lightly. “Fuck, babe; I’m so sorry. I knew I was forgetting something. I can go out, though. Maybe while you shower? I can get it on the corner—”

“Babe,” Bri says, and it occurs to him that he has once again forgotten to breathe. But when he meets her eyes again, she’s smiling, kind of laughing, and she shakes her head. “Shut up.”

“What?” He blinks. His glasses fog up a little, with how close their faces are, and he squints through them toward her. “I really will go out and get it. What are birthday pancakes without whipped—”

Bri slides her hands up to either side of his face, and she shakes her head again. “Just shut up and kiss me, okay?”

The pit leaves his stomach, and he stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he says, and then laughs, too. “Okay. I can do that.”

It’s a kiss that stops the racing in his brain, which it really always does; she just knows how to do that by existing. It becomes two, and then three, and when they pull apart, Reid can breathe normally again.

“You didn’t have to stay up all night because of me,” she tells him, voice still gentle, eyes still on him.

“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I didn’t really— I mean, I really didn’t want you to have a lame morning.”

“Well, that was very sweet of you,” she replies. Her eyes are catching the sunrise light that edges in through the window. He could get distracted by that. By her body. By every freckle on her face. He is, after all, easily distractible. “But,” Bri adds, “as long as my morning has you in it, I promise you, there’s nothing lame about it.”

He laughs, and kind of feels sheepish, like he might be blushing. “Okay.” He doesn’t deserve her, but he’ll take her at her word.

“C’mere.” She pulls him down for another kiss, and, yeah, this he can do. The apartment is way too small, and he is a human disaster, but she loves him anyway, for some reason he still can’t figure out, and he’ll never stop being grateful for that.

“Thank you,” she says, when they pause to breathe again. “I’m excited for pancakes.”

“I’ll make them good,” he assures her, and she laughs.

“I know you will,” she replies, and then smiles with half her mouth, so her one dimple shows, and that is fucking adorable. Holy Christ. He might be sleep-deprived, but if looks could kill… “But,” she adds, with that smirk still lingering, “not yet.”

“Not yet?” he echoes, and blames the sleep deprivation for how slow the realization is. “Right, yeah. Because you should shower, right? Get ready for work?”

“I think I have a distinct amount of time before I actually have to be ready for work,” she replies, and ohhhh. Oh. Okay.

This, too, he can do.

“I think I understand you,” he tries.

Bri winks. “You definitely understand me,” she says, and then grabs him by the hand and pulls him back toward their bed. “And plus, it’s my birthday.”

He almost makes a birthday suit joke, and then decides that puns are not an effective method of seduction today. Not that Bri really needs seducing. Right this second, anyway.

“I’m so honored,” he says, instead, and grins when she pushes him down to sit on the edge of the mattress. He holds her by the waist and waits, still smirking. “You mean to say you want me to be your present?”

“Something like that,” she replies, with a shrug, and then pushes him so he falls backwards, and he gets exactly three seconds to laugh at the ceiling before she’s kissing him and he gets to move on to something much, much better than rambling about his failures as a boyfriend in the middle of the kitchen.

Breakfast can wait.

[plus-size-reader]

Mommy

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1,825 words

Warnings: Reader’s son is sick

Summary: Dean has always taken care of the reader and her son, Tyler. When Tyler gets sick, the reader doesn’t know what to do, so she calls Dean. 

——————————————————————————————————

Dean never knew what it was like to be a dad.

He sure as hell hoped that he didn’t have any kids just running around.

What he did have, was you.

You had been Dean Winchester’s best friend since you two were kids, and he would do anything for you.

Which meant that when you accidentally got knocked up by some joke, you knew there was only one person you could call.

There was only one person who had always had your back.

The call came out of nowhere, in the middle of the day but as soon as he answered, he knew that no matter what time it was, he would be by your side in a matter of hours.

“Hello, Dean Winchester” he answered, as per usual, waiting for whoever it was to identify themselves first.

It wasn’t until he heard you, sniffling into the other end of the phone that it really struck him.

Something was wrong.

He hadn’t heard you like this in years…

“Something’s wrong Dean, Tyler’s acting strange, I think he’s sick” you cried, struggling to think of anything that would make it seem just as urgent as necessary. You had never known how to do this whole mothering thing.

You were still relatively new at it. Every time you thought you knew what was going on, and you got good at it, he was growing and changing.

There was no way to really know what was going on with him, and you were desperately hoping that Dean could help you.

It wasn’t even like he knew what he was doing either, you just didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

Luckily, Dean didn’t need any convincing.

“Don’t worry about anything darling, I’ll be there as fast as I can” he assured, hanging up and gathering all of his stuff. He was going to come pick you two up and then bring you back to the bunker.

You just had an apartment that you and the kid, Tyler, lived in.

The payments would be caught up in advance, not that it really mattered. For the time being, it may have just been better for you two to stay where he could keep an eye on you.

At least until you two could figure out what was wrong with him.

~

You had been worried sick since Tyler started coming down with his fever. It was almost instant, overnight and nothing you tried worked.

Ibuprofen, Benadryl, Tylenol, all the over-the-counter stuff you could find along with as many natural remedies the internet had to offer.

Nothing helped.

His temperature was climbing and all he could do was sleep.

You had never seen him act like this and it was killing you.

Fortunately, before you could have a total breakdown, there was a knock at the door.

“Mommy’s gonna get the door Ty, give me one second” you smiled slightly, tucking his blanket a little closer to shiver frame before heading toward the front door. It had only been an hour since your call with Dean…

He had to have been going ninety on the freeway to make it this fast.

Not that something like that would have surprised you.

You opened the door to Dean, standing there with that tired smile on his face. There weren’t even words for the things you were feeling right now.

He was your knight in shining armor.

“I am so happy to see you” you gushed, throwing your arms over his shoulders. As soon as you felt his arms around you, you felt as though you could cry.

You felt so much more secure and safe when Dean was around. He was your rock, and what kept you grounded.

The two of you had killed monsters together, it was kind of hard to separate from a person after that.

“And I’m happy to see you darling, where’s the kiddo?” he wondered, following you into the apartment. It smelled like cinnamon and pumpkin, typical for the season but you had changed it since he’d been here last.

You kept your voice low as you approached where Tyler was laying on the couch. He had been trying to get some sleep but as best you could tell, he wasn’t having much luck.

He’d just been laying like a bump on a log for days.

And honestly, Dean was shocked when he first saw the little dude.

He knew that it seemed bad on the phone but nothing prepared him for what he actually saw in front of him. Never in all the time that Dean had known the little guy had he ever seen him so bad.

“Any ideas?” you wondered, pressing the back of your hand lightly to the boy’s forehead. He was absolutely burning up, and it made you want to be sick just looking at him.

All he could do was shrug at first. If anyone was going to be able to figure out what to do, it would be Cas.

Hell, he could tell them what was going on just by touching Tyler.

But first, the two of you had to get him to the bunker.

“Come back to the bunker with me” it was more of an order than a suggestion but you knew better than to argue.

You called Dean because you were out of options, and if he thought the bunker was the way to go, you were practically already there.

As long as you could get some answers.

...

You weren’t sure what to say when you first entered the bunker. You hadn’t seen Sam in quite a while in person, but a soon as he saw Tyler in Dean’s arms, all greetings seemed to be wordless.

He knew that if Dean was going to see you, that something serious had to have happened.

It wasn’t too common now a days, with them being so busy.

Not that something like that mattered now.

“I’ll find Cas, stay with them” Dean suggested, his attention stuck on his baby brother. Leaving you alone at a time like this wasn’t something he was comfortable with, even for a few minutes.

You were struggling right now, like any other mother would have been at a time like this. Luckily for you, Sam could be just as comforting as Dean, if not more.

“I’m sorry this is happening but Cas will get this all figured out” he promised, sitting down beside you on the couch. You could hardly breath due to nerves but something about having help was helping you out a little more.

At least you weren’t alone.

As long as you had the Winchesters by your side, you knew that you would never be alone.

When Dean returned, he wasn’t alone. By his side was a dark haired man in a trench coat, an ever present look of mild concern on his face. You didn’t know him all that well, but you’d heard many stories about him...you knew that this was Castiel.

The angel that was supposed to be able help you figure out what was going on with Tyler.

“You must be Y/N, I’m Castiel” he introduced, holding a hand out to you in a rather stiff manner. However, considering the circumstances, you didn’t bat an eye. You knew that he was doing his very best to be comforting.

It was like this was second nature for him.

“Nice to meet you” you tried, sitting back down beside Sam where you had been, now joined by Dean. He had a hand on your lower back, moving in comforting circles to try to calm your nerves. It was only fair that you would be stressed after everything you’d been dealing with.

Still, he knew that within a few hours, Castiel would know exactly what was going on and would take care of it for you. Tyler was going to be fine, no matter what he had to do to make it happen.

“I would recommend taking Y/N out of the room for this part, Dean” Castiel suggested, his fingertips glowing every so slightly with his grace as he approached the sleeping boy on the couch.

He had an abnormally high fever, and depending on what it was, Castiel wanted to figure it out with Sam before you found out. It would be too difficult to get him all fixed up if you were too emotional over it.

At least until they knew what it was that was going on.

He didn’t know too much about the more complex emotions of humans but even he knew how stressful an ill child could be on a protective parent, not to mention a single mother.

The last thing he wanted was to cause you unnecessary emotional distress, something that Dean seemed to understand. “Come on Y/N, I’ll show you where you two can stay tonight” he offered, taking your hand in his own to lead you away.

You didn’t exactly want to go but you trust them. Dean wouldn’t have brought you anywhere that you two would be in danger, not ever.

So, as much as you hated it, you followed Dean down the farthest bunker hallway. Both of the boys bedrooms were in this area, along with a few other bedrooms that they didn’t currently have any use for...until now.

“Will this be okay?” he asked, opening one of the doors for you. It was, more or less, just a bed and a dresser but as far as you knew, it was fine.

You would take anything at this point.

“This is perfect Dean, thank you” you sighed, trying your best to smile as you plopped down on the bed, the man following suit beside you.

You were just under so much stress.

Dean could see how tense every muscle in your body was and it made him sad to see you so upset and tired. He wished that he could make it all go away and with the help of Castiel, he hoped that he’d be able to.

Since you two were children, he had done anything he could for you, no matter what it was and that hadn’t changed as you two got older.

“He’s going to be okay, I’d never let anything happen to the kid” he assured, reaching over to take your hand in his own, running his thumb over your skin to calm you. He’d never been super good at this real emotion stuff but something about you made him feel different.

Perhaps it was because you had so much history, but maybe that wasn’t the only reason. If he really stopped to think about it, maybe Dean was in love with you.

Maybe, just maybe.

Not that he’d know how to tell you that.

Right now it was much easier to keep his mouth shut and hope that Tyler made a full recovery. You had too much on your mind right now to deal with whatever he was feeling.

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Thirty

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations; minor character death. 

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. 

Dear readers, we have only one chapter left and then a brief epilogue. 

Please enjoy the thirtieth chapter of this adventure. I apologize for the length of this one, but it could not be helped. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 30 ~~

I dream in vivid hues, of a blanket spread in a meadow, a feast laid out upon the faded red expanse. A girl with blue ribbons in her flaming hair laying on her back, a book held aloft over her face. The flowers bow in the wind, dancing and courting springtime airs. A girl with dark hair in a pink dress twirls amongst the tall green shoots of meadow grass. She hums to herself and then sings a few bars. A boy on chubby toddler legs attempts to join her and falls, his blonde curls shimmering in the warmth of sun. A blade of grass caresses my check and calls my name.

“Katniss, my pearl.”

I inhale and startle slightly, calming as I wrap my fingers around Peeta’s, and hold his touch against my cheek.

“Sorry, my love. I did not mean to wake you. You only looked so peaceful and happy that I…” he trails off and does not finish, withdrawing his hand and turning away from me.

“I meant to stay awake and wait for you,” I say and shift to sit up as Peeta sits on the edge of the bed. The lamp still burns as proof of my intention, the book I had been reading carelessly dropped on our sheets. I retrieve it and mark my page before setting it aside. His shoulders sag as he removes his boots. They land on the floor with dull, hollow noises. “Will you not call for Jeffries?”

“I can manage well enough without disturbing his sleep as well.” My heart warms at his consideration for others and I reach out to touch his back. There is no response to the caress.

“Is Mrs. Farrow well?”

“As well as can be expected, after more than thirty hours of child labor with a child who was breach.”

“Thirty hours?”

“They waited to summon me until her pains were undeniably regular. By then she had already been at labor for nearly eight hours.”

“She must be exhausted,” I say pathetically. Peeta only nods, his hands working the buttons on his waistcoat, his motions slow and laborious. I am almost afraid to ask, but I must. “And the child?”

“A son. Weighing perhaps seven pound. Remarkably healthy after such an arduous arrival.” He removes his waistcoat in a pained movement and tosses it across the room towards the sofa. I pluck at the coverlet, at a loss as to why he seems so distant.

“That is cause for celebration, is it not?”

“Indeed.” He stands then and removes the rest of his clothing without looking at me. He drags his night shirt on, sets aside his false leg, then sighs as he slides beneath the covers with me. I adjust my body to be close to him.

“Then why do you seem morose?” I ask and reach out to play with a lock of his hair.

“I am tired, Katniss. So very tired.”

“What would help?”

“Sleep.”

“Other than that?” I pry, determined that he will answer me.

“Nothing. Will you talk me to death or will you allow me sleep?” he bites out the words and my hand stops mid caress. He turns away from me, forcibly removing my touch from him. “Would you extinguish that light?”

I bite my lip and hold back tears. Why tears? I wage a mental battle, determining which would be more effective, braining him with a pillow or shouting at him that he is not the only one of us who has had a long and trying day. Either option would certainly be more effective than weeping.

Before I can decide what to do, he sighs. “Katniss…I am not myself. I am sorry. I should not be curt with you.”

He turns in the sheets again to face me, closing the distance between us and wrapping his arms about me. My anger still festers, although I am quickly losing my grasp on it.

“Peeta, you know—“

“I know. I am sorry. Tell me about your day and then perhaps I will be ready to speak of mine.” He takes my hand in his and lifts it to his lips. “I do not even wish to consider what dark places my mind would wander, had I not seen you this afternoon. Thank you for that.”

I hum in annoyance. “Most unfortunate. I do not wish to owe any sort of debt to Mr. Hawthorne.” With some prompting from Peeta, I explain that Mr. Hawthorne was the reason for our outing this afternoon. I wax perhaps overlong about his arrogance and disdain, for his obtuse views of Everdeen and how I intend to show him how wrong he is. 

“I do not know how that will help us in the end, but it seems the best I can do for the tenants. At least Father took the more traditional view of entertaining and took the gentlemen to the study after dinner… did you eat, husband?”

“I managed something in the kitchens before I came up here.” I frett for a moment and he waves me off. “I’ve not the strength for another trip. Sustenance can wait until morning. It is good, though. What your father did. Then you were allowed a respite, however brief.” 

I snort at this, but Peeta’s words do comfort me. He has a point. Since Mr. Hawthorne and his party brought no additional females to the house, I was not forced to play hostess the entire evening but allowed to relax in the company of Prim and Madge, at least for some time before the gentlemen interrupted our tranquil and intimate gathering.

“The strange thing is that as talkative as he was all afternoon, Mr. Hawthorne was equally as taciturn this evening. He hardly said a word unless asked a direct question.”

“It sounds as though I may have had the more enjoyable evening, in terms of the company we kept.”

“Madge saved the evening for me. What with Prim mooning over Mr. Rory Hawthorne and… Oh,” I groan and place a hand over my face. “I had no chance to speak with Madge.”

“Tomorrow,” Peeta says with a wide yawn. “For now… sleep.”

“What of you, husband? Will you not tell me of your troubles?” I needle him and kiss beneath his jaw. He releases a strained puff of air and squeezes his eyes shut tight.

“I am still unconvinced that I am suited to this. To being a doctor.”

“Why not? You are patient and skilled. You listen well and are keenly observant. Generous and kind–”

“And I am frightened.”

“Frightened?” I ask, incredulous. “Of what?” It is difficult to imagine Peeta, who so expertly wields his knife, has killed men in battle, who has mended others while under fire, who faced down a highwayman, as being afraid of a birthing.

“Mrs. Farrow is well but it was a near thing. Katniss…Katniss,” he moans and the sound is so tormented that it near breaks my heart. “I cannot lose you. Childbirth is such an ordeal, so often dangerous. I do not know what I would do if I lost you. I… I do not think I should be the surgeon delivering our child.”

“Your worries make sense,” I say, although my throat is choked with hot tears, even as I brush aside the ones he is so clearly trying and failing to keep inside his eyes. “You were the attending physician for the first time today, and it was not a smooth birth, but it came out all right.”

“With a great deal of luck,” he mutters.

I should soothe his doubts, but in this state, I am not certain that he would listen. “Hmmm. It appears that you suffer from unfounded doubts,” I say and he scoffs lightly. “As your devoted personal healer, I prescribe at least six hours spent abed with your wife. Perhaps half a dozen kisses, and tomorrow, a picnic.”

“And how do you propose I achieve these six hours of sleep when it is nearly dawn already?”

“By sleeping late,” I whisper and I bask in the brightness of his smile.

“We have guests.”

“Damn the guests. Madge can entertain them.”

Peeta yawns then and holds me tighter. I find his hair with my fingers again and begin to toy with the curls again, caressing his nape, kissing up and down his neck.

He rises up and a small squeak of surprise leaves me as he covers me with his body, my lips with his.

“I thought you were tired, husband.”

“I am. Not too tired to appreciate you, wife. I missed you today. You’ve a strength and courage I cannot match.”

“You flatter me shamelessly.”

“No. I love you shamelessly,” he whispers and I sigh into the kisses. “Let me drink of your courage, my pearl.”

I do not understand his need, only that I am somehow able to fill it, and so I kiss him. I kiss him until I am certain our lips shall be bruised in the morning and still I kiss him more. He holds his weight off of me with one arm, his leg holding me beneath his warmth and his other hand wandering the curves and valleys of my body. His fingers raise goose flesh and desire as they slowly slowly slide between my thighs. I relax beneath his touch, eager to feel his fingers on my intimate flesh.

“Papa,” a soft whisper reaches us as Peeta halts, his body rigid against mine and then he whirls around. I attempt to order my hair and halt the thundering of my heart, swallow back my frustration at the interruption of our passion to smile at Miranda.

She stands beside our bed in her night gown and slippers, her hair escaping the braid Sae attempted to give her tonight. She is twisting her fingers about and looking almost frightened. 

“Papa,” she says again, “Is the baby here now? The one you went to take care of today?”

“Y-yes,” Peeta stutters. 

“So you will be at home tomorrow?”

“Unless I am needed again. And I will have to go check on the mother and the new babe. Would you… would you like to go with me for that?”

“I would,” she nods and then turns to leave. Peeta’s entire body lurches towards her.

“Miranda,” he calls out and she spins back around, scrambling into the bed with us and straight into Peeta’s arms.

Somehow, the three of us end up in an embrace, a tangle of limbs and love, with Miranda’s hand on my belly. The babe pushes out against my womb then, hand or foot pressing back against Miranda’s hand. Her eyes widen and I smile at her.

Shortly after, I see Miranda back to her bed, insisting that Peeta remain in bed as he’s already removed his leg and I’ve already gotten some rest this night.

When I return to bed, Peeta grunts and I am convinced he has fallen asleep in my absence, even though he encompasses me in his embrace as I settle. I, however, am now wide awake. I lay there for a moment, touching him in the darkness, thinking on my dream, the one I was in the midst of when he woke me. I start singing, only a whisper of the melody. I grow drowsy and then finally follow Peeta into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even before we rise, Peeta is called away again, this time with a knock on the door. I drag myself to it to answer, ready to flay the intruder for disturbing our precious sleep, only to be met with worried eyes and frantic words.

An entire family that has fallen ill. Feverish and with rashes. Fear of measles makes Peeta hasty in leaving me. He pauses only to explain to Miranda that it is not wise for her to accompany him today, if it does indeed turn out to be measles. She is disappointed, but insists that she understands.

“Your husband is absent again today?” Mr. Hawthorne asks as we ride across Everdeen much later, in search of a place to picnic. Peeta returned after seeing to the ill family, only long enough to bathe and change his clothes, to prevent the spread of disease when he went to attend the new mother and her babe. He’s had no time for guests today.

“I think it noble of him. Admirable,” Rory states. “Rather than leaving the tenants to fester in squalor and disease as some would, the family has found a way to see to their needs quickly, providing a capable surgeon, no less!”

I send Rory a grateful glance and Prim is especially pleased. Mr. Hawthorne turns away from this comment and asks Madge a question about Diablo. I do not hear it, but I do hear her answer.

“He is not mine. I’ve only the use of him while I stay with Katniss and her family.”

“You’ve a question about one of my horses, Mr. Hawthorne?” I ask.

“He no doubt is inquiring after potential studs, are you not, Gale?” Mr. Fremont says, bringing his horse close to Gale’s.

“You know that I am,” Gale states rather curtly before turning to me. “One venture I have long wished to embark on is a horse farm. I only recently find myself in a position for it to be feasible.”

“And you’ve your eye on Diablo as a potential stud? He’s not for sale, nor up for inheritance,” I say simply.

“Everything is for sale, for the right price, Mrs. Mellark. But I must admit you have several prime stallions in your stable. Perhaps you might consider a stud fee for them. In that way, you and I could both achieve what we desire.”

“I doubt that our desires could ever be reconciled, Mr. Hawthorne,” I state and immediately regret it based on the scowl he sends me. Oh, I am failing so miserably at earning his good graces and yet I cannot seem to help myself. There is something about him that grates on me, or perhaps it is simply this power that he will hold over me one day. His position to inherit my home.

“Where would you set up such a venture?” Madge asks, and I am grateful for her diverting his attention.

“Oh I’ve a few prospects, although I am still in negotiations. So many landowners are loathe to part with their holdings for anything less than a ridiculous sum, even when they find themselves mired in debts.”

“Patience and perseverance,” Mr. Fremont states and I bite my tongue.

Thankfully, we approach the pond on the border between Everdeen and Undersee lands before more can be said. All agree that this is an excellent prospect for our picnic.

Madge assists me in lowering myself to the blanket and I squeeze her hand. “Are you certain this is acceptable?”

Her eyes flick towards the ruins of her old home, the manor overrun now with vines and foliage, reclaiming the stone for the earth.

“I will be alright. I suppose I must face it at some time, especially if I intend to do anything with it. What about you?”

“Madge,” I whisper, “There is something we need to speak about.”

“Is the lake stocked?” Mr. Fremont interrupts and Madge turns to him with a smile.

“It was last I was here, five years ago. The fish have been left quite alone since then.”

“Some of Everdeen’s tenants may have availed themselves of a few fish,” I admit and give an apologetic look to Madge. She places a hand on mine and then continues to set up the feast we’ve brought.

“Does that anger you, Mrs. Mellark? I am curious…what is the punishment for poaching on Everdeen?”

“A turned cheek and an adjustment to either taxes or payments, Mr. Hawthorne. We’re farmers, not tyrants here,” I say happily and smile at him. “I have no wish to begrudge a family a few fish or a hare caught in a time of need.”

Mr. Hawthorne tilts his head and says something to Mr. Fremont that I do not hear, but I do see that his scowl has shifted somehow. Perhaps Mr. Hawthorne can in fact be reasoned with after all.

“I’ve no idea what the occasional fishing would do to the population,” Madge says as she rises and approaches the gentlemen. “Perhaps we shall simply have to make an attempt at catching a fish to find out.”

It quickly becomes apparent that she will stay near them and converse while they attempt some fishing. I resign myself to not speaking to her yet and to reading my book, as Prim also seems to prefer Rory’s company close to the lakeshore.

Miranda and Maysilee wander over to the ruins and climb about them. Laughter is bright in the air. At one point, I catch Mr. Hawthorne smiling and the expression changes his face entirely.

It makes me think again on my tactic, of showing to him how Everdeen is not the squalor and hopeless destitution of so many other similar estates. I care about our tenants. Peeta cares about them. My father has always cared about them. We are not in the business of crushing anyone beneath our boots, nor of squeezing every penny possible out of them.

Eventually, the day fades and we return home for dinner, with a handful of fish the gentlemen have caught, which are promptly delivered to the kitchens. I am grateful to have Peeta with us for dinner as we dine on the fish. Even though the presence of guests necessitates that he not sit beside me, his mere presence helps calm me and I am able to entertain rather well, I believe.

Even later, as I wander past the study door and catch a few words of heated political discussion, I am not overly angry. I may be forbidden from the conversation because of our guests, but I know that my husband will represent us both well.

The discussion seems to continue over chess that evening, when Mr. Hawthorne seems to be taken with a desire to play. I smirk and hide my glee behind my book. Mr. Hawthorne has no idea what he is in for. My kind, patient husband is a master strategist and deliciously devious at times. The game drags into the evening, and although there are other entertainments, music and singing with Madge and Prim providing the bulk of the merriment, my attention is riveted to Peeta.

“Your husband is fond of chess?” Mr. Fremont asks as he settles beside me.

“Yes, he is,” I answer easily. “Are you Mr. Fremont? Or do you share your associate’s obsession with the horse?”

“Not nearly so, I am afraid. I’ve always been fond of a good riddle or a harmless jest. Gale is much more business minded. I am merely a friendly face who assists in helping place others at ease in his presence.”

“He does seem rather formidable,” I mutter and flip my page, leaving my finger behind because I truly did not read the entirety of the text.

“He can be, but…would you believe if I told you he is truly tender-hearted and exceptionally loyal? He cares a great deal for others, and those who are close to him receive the best of protections.” I make a disbelieving noise and Mr. Fremont lowers his head. “He is a rather sore loser, however.”

My eyes glance over the chess board and I smile slightly. “Then I think he is about to dislike my husband as much as he dislikes me.”

“He does not dislike you, Mrs. Mellark. He is simply…uncertain as to how to interact with you.”

“Hmmmm…suggesting that I have neglected my tenants is a grievous misstep, if that is the case.”

“Ah, well that may be faulted to his passionate nature. At times, he speaks without remembering to whom he speaks. He means no harm by it, only possesses the belief that his views are more common sense than opinion, which makes him overly vocal at times.”

“Such poor manners.”

“Well when you put it that way, I suppose he can be a bit of a boor,” Mr. Fremont says with a chuckle. “How badly is he about to lose? I do not know much about chess. Perhaps I should learn.”

“Are you certain Mr. Hawthorne is a fair player? He is about to lose shamefully fast.” Mr. Fremont hums.

“I’ve been led to believe he is quite skilled at it.”

“Perhaps he is distracted. I’m sure the prospect of seeing a fine horse can do that to him.” Mr. Fremont’s fingers clench rather tightly on the stem of his glass of brandy and he tosses the rest of it back with a high sort of flush on his cheeks.

“Yes. Easily distracted. Nothing more.”

“Checkmate,” Peeta murmurs, removing his fingers from his queen. Mr. Hawthorne glowers and then…miraculously laughs. He reaches out a hand and congratulates Peeta on the game.

“There are not many who can best me so quickly,” Mr. Hawthorne states. Mr. Fremont coughs rather loudly, drawing the gazes of the two men from across the room.

“I believe I shall turn in,” Mr. Fremont says.

“Yes,” Mr. Hawthorne agrees and waves carelessly. “Another game, Mr. Mellark?”

“I’m afraid I must decline. It has been two rather long days of work for me.”

“Your stallion…”

“I shall make my morning rounds swift and have time to show him to you in the afternoon,” Peeta states. “Will that suffice?”

“I look forward to it,” Mr. Hawthorne says.

Peeta stands from the table and I set my book aside, looping my arm with his as we leave together. As we turn the corner, I am certain that I feel eyes boring into the back of my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this the flower you spoke of? Before we were married?” Peeta asks as I sit waiting between the covers. He spins the bloom between his fingers and gazes with wonder at the orange petals.

“It is,” I answer. I placed it in a glass filled with water the day that I asked Rory to pick it from the meadow. Peeta and I have both been so occupied since then that I’d nearly forgotten, and he’d not noticed until tonight.

“So soft and delicate. Beautiful,” he murmurs and meets my gaze. The heat I see in his blue eyes captures my breath and gives it back to me in a racing heartbeat. “Thank you, my love.”

“I knew you would like it,” I tease him. “You’ve a weakness for beautiful things.”

“Having an eye for beauty is no weakness, my love,” he says and then climbs atop the bed, the flower still clenched in his fingers. “Except perhaps when it comes to you.”

He is so close, his eyes hooded as he sets the flower on my lips and traces them carefully. “Soft petals to soft petals… take off your gown.”

His last words are not soft and I shiver but remove the garment with haste. Then… then there is no haste but there is great beauty in the way he loves me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, I am feeling empowered and well rested. Facing Mr. Hawthorne across the breakfast table is not such a chore with the memories of Peeta’s lips on me, his arms surrounding me, his whispered promises and the petals of my gift for him caressing my ears and bringing us to climax so swiftly.

After, he had placed the flower back in its glass with a sweet smile on his face, and I knew that I would forever be searching for gifts such as this. An orange flower, a set of paintbrushes, a favored book, to bring a smile to his face and his kisses to my lips.

I catch Mr. Hawthorne staring at me in an unnerving manner, near enough to rude to warrant my returning his stare with a scowl until Mr. Fremont elbows him and Mr. Hawthorne finally looks away.

“Wedded bliss becomes you,” Madge whispers. “Or perhaps it is pending motherhood that becomes you. Either way, there is jealousy afoot this morning.”

“I cannot imagine why,” I mutter back and she glances at me then away with such speed.

“Can’t you?”

“Madge…we never spoke the other day–”

“What are the plans for today, Mrs. Mellark?” Mr. Hawthorne interrupts and I grind my teeth. To think that I was starting to find him tolerable or at least reasonable last night. “How shall we entertain ourselves until Mr. Mellark returns with that magnificent beast of his?”

“Perhaps a visit to Seam and the village.”

“Excellent.” The plans decided, we scatter to prepare. 

Primrose and Rory decide to remain at home, with Mother and Father. Dr. Aurelius is feeling well enough to have accompanied Peeta in attending to their patients this morning. Mr. Fremont begs off on riding with us, claiming a rough night of sleep.

With our diminished party, we set out for Seam, the three of us. I am not overly fond of sitting alone while Madge and Mr. Hawthorne ride ahead of me, conversing to one another. His presence has prevented me from speaking to her. Whenever the moment has felt opportune, he has either interrupted or she has escaped, making me wonder perhaps if she is avoiding me.

Could she know that I was outside the stables that night? All of my worries suddenly feel as though they are piling up on my head and so I am in a foul mood all through our shopping and tour of the village. The only good thing to come of it is how astonished Mr. Hawthorne is by the way Madge and I are both received.

“Did you find hints of uprising, Mr. Hawthorne? Unhappy villagers feeling the crushing weight of mistreatment and oppression?” I ask and Madge gives me an oddly quelling look. I shrug as he makes a noncommittal noise.

“No obvious hints, Mrs. Mellark. But it is spring.”

“Which immediately follows the leaner months of winter.”

“Perhaps,” he allows, and yet I fancy that there is something speculative, almost impressed in his eyes now. I dare not hope yet that my tactic is working however. As soon as we return to Everdeen, I am handed a note written in Peeta’s hand. I tear into it and reach for Madge.

“What is it?” she asks and I hand it to her as I hurry inside, ignoring her as she reads it aloud.

Harriet Nells lost this morning. ~P

No other words, only this brief sentence to tell me that the child he was tending, the one with the measles…is dead. 

“Sae! Mrs. Chilton!” I shout as I move through the hall. Servants spring into action. My mother bundles herbs and sets out immediately with others to see to the cleaning and airing of the hut, the funeral arrangements as the parents are both still ill.

A child has been lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is no mention of horses, nor of inheritance. Even Mr. Hawthorne pitches in to help. The day fades into evening and all who left to assist slowly return to Everdeen. The child has been bathed and dressed. The grave has been dug and Father Crane called upon. She will be buried in the morning.

I sit on the verandah, listening to the evening bugs and waiting for my husband, wondering that he stays away. Johanna stops to check on me and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll not take it well. Losing one so young. So needlessly.”

All I can do is nod and wonder at my husband’s mental state. Eventually, Johanna leaves me to my vigil and another arrives. A cleared throat causes me to turn my head and look askance at Mr. Hawthorne.

“I beg leave to intrude, Mrs. Mellark.”

“It will be your verandah one day,” I say simply and turn my gaze back to the lane.

“Yes. About that…it has occured to me that I may have erred in my initial assessment of Everdeen.”

I snort and bite at my thumb nail. Where is Peeta?

“You see, as much as I love my brother, he can be rather naive and kind hearted.”

“I fail to see how that is a flaw.”

“Perhaps the flaw was mine. I did not entirely believe him when he first described Everdeen. It made little sense. A welcoming farm of middling importance and small operation allowing so many to wander here in need. And you…rushing off to Capitol to seek a husband and a fortune to secure your future. Naturally, I assumed you must be hiding some sort of dire financial situation.”

“If this is an attempt at an apology, Mr. Hawthorne, you fail miserably,” I state and he laughs. Actually laughs.

“Perhaps so.” He carefully sweeps back the tails of his coat and sits beside me. “May I speak freely?”

“Make yourself at home, Mr. Hawthorne,” I state with an imperious look and he cannot hold my gaze. “As you’ve repeatedly noted the past few days, it will all be yours one day anyways.”

“It is precisely that which I wish to speak with you about.”

I sigh and wait for him to continue. He will continue unprompted if he has something to say, I have discovered.

“I feel as though you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“Whatever gave you that impression.”

“Mr. Fremont for one, and for another… Lady Charmaigne.” I hum and he again clears his throat. “There are other factors as well. You must understand, I’d reason to doubt Rory’s description of this place.”

“Then why trust him to the task?”

“I was unable to travel here. I was… needed elsewhere. And as I said, I was in disbelief that you, who seemed so sensible and practical, level headed and forthright in your letters, would rush off to secure a stranger as a husband. Why bring an unknown into the equation when a perfect option that would see everyone’s needs met was right in front of you, given how keen you seem to retain Everdeen.”

“You talk in riddles, Mr. Hawthorne. Of course I wish to retain my home. What human with a heart would not?”

“Apologies. That would be Darius’ influence, I am afraid,” Mr. Hawthorne states with that smile that transforms his face. “You see, Mrs. Mellark, it’s been made apparent to me that it is time I take a wife. My first and obvious choice would have been you, since I cannot be present at all of my properties at once and you would have made an excellent and knowledgeable steward.”

“Pray, do not flatter me so,” I say even though I know I should hold my tongue. Besides, I’ve gone utterly cold at his words.

“A marriage between us would have solved all your troubles. You however, chose to do otherwise and somehow, despite the haste of it all, managed to secure a marriage to the son of a marquis anyways. I congratulate you on your excellent catch, by the way.”

“You’ve no need to tell me how fortunate I am in marriage. I am well aware of it.”

“Yes, but the simple truth of it is, your needs in terms of Everdeen would have been met more swiftly had you been patient and instead married me. It was in fact my intention to do so and I think that now that we are acquainted, your own haste annoys you.”

I glare at him. How dare he!

“I am…accustomed to speaking plainly and am told that sometimes this makes me appear abrasive. I do however hope that we are able to put that aside in future and work together towards a solution that is acceptable to both of us. I’ve no desire to toss such a welcoming family out in the cold.”

“Well,” I state, the rancor dripping off my tongue. “As you pointed out, I managed to snare myself an exceptionally excellent catch. His wealth ensures that I will not be cold, even if you should toss me out of my home.”

I’ve more to say, but the sound of hooves on the gravel and the snort of Cicero reaches me then. I excuse myself and hurry past Mr. Hawthorne. Peeta sways precariously in his saddle and I gasp as he nearly falls. Jo and Charles are swift to respond and manage to halt his descent, but it is Mr. Hawthorne who manages to safely see him to the ground, albeit laying down.

“Peeta,” I say frantically and check him over for injuries. He appears merely dazed and exhausted. I scold myself for not realising sooner how close to despair he was getting. “Peeta look at me.”

“Katniss,” he murmurs. “I lost…”

“I know. There was nothing else you could have done.”

“Wasn’t there?” he asks bitterly.

“Do not torment yourself so, at least not on the front stairs.” Others have joined us now and I give directions to have him carried to the bathing room. Charles to take care of Cicero. I demand Jo accompany us. I’ve no need to say the words, though. She is there without question.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne, we will see to him from here,” I state and push him out of the bathing room once Peeta has been deposited. He makes to protest and I shut the door in his face before turning back to my husband and guiding the procedure of seeing him undressed and into the steaming tub.

“Have you seen him like this before?” I whisper to Jo as I wash his hair.

“Only the once,” Johanna whispers. “When he could not save Daniel Merritt. The boy…he was seventeen and newly married. Shot through his throat. Then…while Peeta was trying to stop the bleeding… the enemy grabbed Daniel’s foot, dragged him away and shot him in the gut. Peeta… followed and got too close to their line…” she trails off and I do not ask for the rest. I merely point to his scarred ribs and she nods. 

We work together, and by the time we have him clean and the water drained, he is lucid again, although silent. He obeys my words as I order him out of the tub and dried. It is a bit of a trick, getting him upstairs with his leg already removed, but my father lends assistance.

Once we are left alone, I begin the longest vigil of my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, Peeta is staring at me. “You think me weak.”

“I think you care far more than a human heart should be expected to bear,” I whisper.

“You do not understand.”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps I never can. But I do know that however many you have lost, there are dozens more that you saved, and will save. The boy you brought into the world only days ago. Mrs. Farrow. There will be more. Do not deprive them before they’ve had a chance to survive under your care.”

He almost laughs at that and then shakes his head. “You’ve a way with words, wife.”

“I learned from you, husband, and only give to you what you have given to me.”

“And what have I given to you?”

“Hope.”

“There is no hope in the Nells household right now.”

“Of course not. Not yet. But there will be. It will take time, and great care, but life can be good again some day, even for them. Even for you.” I stretch across the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips. “And now, I mean to distract you from your worries.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve little luck in distracting Peeta the next day. We are somber as we travel to the church, dressed in dark clothes and silent through the funeral. Peeta remains withdrawn the rest of the day after, no matter what I do to cajole him out of it. Eventually, I desist and settle for holding his hand in mine whenever possible. Holding him in my arms as we sleep that night. I wish for this awful day to end, and although I am granted my wish, I still wish that it had not been so long. I cannot imagine the pain Mr. and Mrs. Nells must be experiencing, especially now that Peeta says they are on the mend.

Two days after the funeral, we are to resume pleasantries and entertainments. The day dawns warm and sunny in cooperation. Peeta left our room before I even woke and I worry about him.

“Ah, Mrs. Mellark,” Mr. Fremont greets me when I leave the house after breakfast. “May I accompany you?”

“I am only headed to the stables,” I say and he falls into step beside me. I hate to snub him, he seems an amiable and kind enough sort, and yet I have decided that since I’ve not been able to pin Madge down to a discussion, that I shall confront Johanna.

“Your company will brighten the day,” he states and I can’t help the smile or the blush.

“You flatter a married woman, Mr. Fremont.”

“Tis no crime to acknowledge beauty. Your husband, I am sure, would agree with me.”

I am momentarily cheered by the flattery, although I know I should put a stop to it immediately. I do not feel as though Mr. Fremont means any harm by it, although now I will need to find a way to lose him if I am to speak with Johanna. I am still searching for excuses when we enter the stables, only to find ourselves intruding on a demonstration.

I am both annoyed and relieved at the sight that greets me.

“Magnificent. Such a powerful beast,” Mr. Hawthorne states with great awe as Peeta holds Cicero by the bridle for inspection. Madge and Johanna are nowhere to be found and I come to stand beside Mr. Hawthorne and listen to their discussion. He glances at me and then clears his throat. “Who is his sire?”

“Cicero has no famous sire,” Peeta says.

“I suppose his lineage is from ancient destriers, then.”

“His lineage is uncertain. He’s something of a mutt.” 

“And how is he at obeying commands? Obedient, I hope,” Gale says with admiration.

“In a way,” Peeta says with a smile and then touches Cicero on his neck, the way I know now that Cicero takes as a command to bow. He does so.

“Extraordinary. Verbal commands?” Peeta shakes his head.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Cicero cannot hear, Mr. Hawthorne. He responds purely to touch,” I interrupt.

“Does he now?” Mr. Hawthorne says. His gloved fingers flex in an odd way and he smiles as Peeta steps to fasten Cicero’s saddle. 

Nimble fingers pluck his gloves from his hands as Mr. Hawthorne motions towards Cicero. 

“Might I at least give a try? He is most extraordinary.” Peeta obliges, but Mr. Hawthorne cannot seem to gain a response from Cicero, even with Peeta’s guidance on how the commands work.

“Stubborn or…”

“Merely well trained,” Peeta contradicts. 

“You’ll have little luck, Mr. Hawthorne. Cicero and my husband are kindred spirits. His deafness necessitates that he respond to a very specific touch, and only that touch.”

“So how does he respond to other riders, Mrs. Mellark? Does he enjoy them or torment them?”

The question confuses me, as well as its direction at me. “I’ve never had problems with him, but he is familiar with me. If you’re looking to try a horse from our stables rather than your own mount, perhaps Guinivere. She is docile enough to adjust to any number of riders.”

“Not today, I think,” Mr. Hawthorne says dismissively, eyes still fixated on Cicero. “I find that a stallion provides a more…vigorous ride. Don’t you, Mr. Mellark?”

“I’ve not ridden many mares, so I’ve no comparison,” Peeta says.

“Indeed?” Mr. Hawthorne asks, and he sounds a little overly excited for the subject. Mr. Fremont must have underestimated Mr. Hawthorne’s interest in horses to me the other day. “Shall we then, Mr. Mellark? I am eager to see him in action.”

“We’ve plans already, Gale,” Mr. Fremont states. Mr. Hawthorne turns to him and scowls slightly.

“Can they not be rearranged?”

“We are guests,” Mr. Fremont reminds him. “We should not cause so much trouble.”

“It is no trouble,” Peeta says and I smile at him. He returns the expression. There’s a strange shyness in his gaze and I wink at him, making him blush.

Mr. Hawthorne ends our flirtations with another attempt at gaining obedience from Cicero. Blessed, loyal horse that he is, Cicero snorts and sidesteps, agitated with the unfamiliar touch and then immediately calmed at Peeta’s.

“Apparently he does not wish another rider,” Mr. Fremont states. 

“Here you are, Mr. Hawthorne,” Charles interrupts as he presents Mr. Hawthorne’s horse, already saddled. “All ready for you.”

“Excellent. A hard ride is exactly what I think we all need this morning. Darius, shall you join us?”

“Am I welcome to?” 

Mr. Hawthorne flicks his gaze at Mr. Fremont and then smoothly mounts his horse. Darius mutters under his breath and quickly moves to join them. It is only as I follow on foot, Peeta mounted on Cicero that I spot Madge in the courtyard. She too is mounted on Diablo and I scowl at how they’ve managed to exclude me. The cart has not been ordered.

I am festering in annoyance until Peeta circles back to me and, halting Cicero with a particular press of his knees, leans over in the saddle. Despite the audience, Peeta’s gloved hand threads through my hair and he kisses me.

I suck in a sharp breath at the blatant display, but I cannot stop my heart pounding faster and louder than galloping hooves. I cling to the sleeves of his coat and when he lifts his head again, I am breathing in a ridiculous fashion.

He smiles at me, and whispers against my lips before he turns Cicero. “You deserve a break from entertaining, my love. I haven’t forgotten, you know. I am still the luckiest bastard in the world.” 

I watch him riding away as long as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days fly by. Nearly the whole seven night has passed and soon the Mr.’s Hawthorne will depart. I cannot say that I am upset over it, and yet something foreboding hangs over my head. There are days when Mr. Hawthorne barely speaks, silently observing all he sees. There are others when he rants interminably, and I wonder if it would be rude to stuff goose down in his meats to silence him. He is slightly more tolerable since our talk on the verandah. Although he still has yet to broach the subject again of a solution that would suit us both, at least he refrains from disparaging myself or Everdeen.

Thankfully, it is not all dire news. Miranda blooms, speaking more freely and laughing with great joy. Primrose and Rory appear to have solidified their courtship. Father has given his approval for it to continue into the season Prim will attend come winter.

And yet…I still have not managed an audience with Madge. She is perpetually busy or absent and even Maysilee has expressed concern in her behaviour.

Two days before our guests are to depart, I hide myself away in the garden to read, delighted when Madge joins me, her footsteps steady on the gravel.

“Madge, finally,” I say as I set aside my book. “We’ve need to talk.”

“Yes, we have,” she says and swallows. It is then that I notice how pale she is.

“Oh Madge, you know how I love you. You can tell me anything, whatever it is that troubles you.” I smile at her, surprised at the strength of her grip as she takes both my hands in hers and lifts her chin.

“And I hope you can forgive me anything as well.”

“Of course I can, but there is nothing to forgive” I insist. I am not prepared for it when she stares into my eyes and speaks.

“I am to marry Mr. Hawthorne next month.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

The word you seek within this chapter may have more than one meaning in the world of The Hunger Games. A temptation of gift that draws Katniss forth seeking medicine, or a bounty of food. Here, it is laid upon a blanket for consumption.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

If not to late and if you do poly.. Sleeping beauty with yan! Massimo as the prince and yan! Angelica as the “Evil” Fairy keeping their princess! S/o trapped. If you don’t do poly... beauty and beast with Yan! Dino! Diego Brando and his S/o. YOU ALWATS MAKE ME SMile FRIEND

Aww shucks I'm glad to make you smile

I'll probably end up doing the Diego request because honestly I need some more steel ball run in my life but here it is! PS I know I kinda made Volpe a bit unresponsive but I kinda see him as that shut off kind of person.

Our lover

(yandere Volpe and Angelica)

You were lost, very lost. Stuck in the middle of the forest with no clue as to how to get out but just as you felt your loneliness seep in  a soft hum echoed through the forest, a tune being hummed that caused the flowers to bloom.

You followed the tune which lead you to a clearing where a lone woman sat in the middle while humming only to stop when she had noticed your arrival. She was pale like a ghost and had wispy blonde hair.

"Who are you?" You asked her.

"My name is Angelica" the woman spoke in a ghostly voice as a few small flowers formed around her. You were just about to respond when you suddenly felt light headed, you began to stumble and you began to slur until you fell to the ground.

In the light you could now see the pollen that danced around in the gentle breeze.

"It must be your first time in these woods, don't worry the initial shock will only be for a few minutes" she lulled with a chuckle as she staggered towards you before sitting by your side and stroking your hair. You moaned out lightly as her contact seemed to make your hairs stand on end.

"Anyway, what's your name?" She asked.

"(Y/n)... (Y/n)... (L/n)" you mumbled, not understanding what was happening.

"Your a princess, I've heard so much about you... Your actually more beautiful then I imagined" the girl remarked before she looked up to see a man tall, thin with long, flowing hair, you knew him but all your memories were in a haze as of current.

"Massimo! Oh how I've missed you!" She shrieked in excitement as she ran up to the man before tripping over, luckily Massimo was able to catch her.

"Angelica dear... You need to be more careful" he lightly scolded.

"I know, but I was so excited to see you and we have a guest" Angelica explained as she pointed to you.

"Angelica... You can't trust every person you meet" he explained.

"But it's Princess (Y/n), you've met her before, you told me you had" she piped up.

That's when the memories finally became clear. He had been a early suitor you had met a year ago. You had met a few times but he seemed to not have much interest in you.

"Massimo Volpe... It's been a while since I last saw you" you groaned out.

"Yes it has" he said in a stern tone.

"Angelica what's causing these strange feelings?" You groaned out as you felt your body tingle.

"The flowers here are used as a hallucinogen... The pollen is rather mild but is still a surprise for any unsuspecting wonderer" she explained with a giggle before coming back over to you and resting your head on her lap. She began to brush through your hair, she treated you almost like how a child treated a beloved doll.

"Your hair is so soft and beautiful..." She lulled as she began to play with it. Volpe simply watched, his first impression of you hadn't been the best but if Angelica enjoyed your company then you must of been alright maybe in the future he'd get to know you better but for now he'd just watch.

🌺🌺🌺

Months had passed since then and you had grown close to Angelica as well as her lover Massimo. You would return to the woods when you could to visit the two.

Today you came with a basket of food, which excited Angelica to the point that she'd coughed up blood, you had sadly gotten use to such a thing after learning about the fairy's illness.

"Angelica you can't keep working yourself up like that" he said to her with concern laced in his tone.

"It's fine... It's nothing" she responded as Volpe quickly wiped the blood off of her face.

"You worry to much" she said as she looked into his eyes before pushing the corners of his lips up to make him smile but he pushed her hands away, he was obviously in a angsty mood at the moment.

You put down the picnic rug and sat down with the two soon following.

"So how've you been?" Angelica asked.

"I've been alright but all of this suitor business has honestly been a big pain" you said.

"As a matter of fact last night my last suitor had some horrible luck, he wanted me to believe he had a way with animals so he had stuffed catnip into his pockets, the cats were practically tearing his clothes apart" you explained before laughing like crazy, Angelica followed but soon stopped when she heard a chuckle pass Massimo's lips.

"You laughed!" she gasped.

"(Y/n) you just made Massimo laugh" she said to you in suprise.

"What's special about that?" You asked.

"I've never heard him laugh before" she explained. He merely rolled his eyes as Angelica made such a deal of it.

"Anyway I think I have a solution about this suitor problem you've had for the past few months" Angelica said before grabbing a muffin from the basket and taking a bite from it.

"Umm you really don't have to get yourself caught up in my problems" you replied.

"No, it's fine" she said.

"Anyway my idea was that you could choose to marry Massimo, he's a prince after all" she explained.

You stumbled over your words in shock, you were absolutely flabbergasted by her idea.

"But Angelica... You're his lover and I don't want to burden him with having to act like he loves me" you replied. Angelica simply looked back at Massimo before looking back at you.

"But he does love you... And so do I" she explained as she leaned forward to caress your face. You only fell back in shock and looked toward the male.

"Ugh I'm sorry this is very sudden!" You replied as you pulled away.

"I know but you'll get use to it" she said as she leaned forward more.

"No, I can't... This isn't normal" you explained to her as Volpe grabbed you.

"Let go of me!" You screamed.

"No" they both replied in union before you kicked Volpe's shin causing him to drop you and you didn't waste a moment to run. Angelica began to wail out your name and sob as you disappeared from view. There was no way she'd be able to chase her.

"We need to get her back!" She screamed at the top of her lungs as she pounded and kicked the floor like a spoilt brat having a tantrum. Massimo kneeled beside her and stroked her long blonde hair trying to calm her the best he could.

"It's ok Angelica... I know how we can get her back" he said which made the weeping fairy look up at him.

"How?"

🌺🌺🌺

You sat beside the man who tomorrow would be you husband. Various royals had come tonight to wish you both well in the future and offer you gifts. You all sat at he long table drinking a tea that had been anonymously gifted when you heard the ring of someone tapping a spoon against the cup and out of all the guests Massimo Volpe stood. You knew that he had come, all the royals had but you just hoped he wouldn't say anything to brash.

"I would just like to say on behalf of us all princess (Y/n) that we wish nothing but the best for your future..." He said.

You looked down at your tea cup to see something strange in the bottom of your tea cup. You picked it out to find a small open vial. Your vision soon began to double. You stood up, wobbling slightly.

"(Y/n) are you alright?" Your partner asked.

"Something isn't right... My drink... It's been spiked" you slurred.

Soon everyone went into panic but not because of you, they all were seeing and hearing thing that made them go into frenzy. The only one who wasn't affected was Massimo and the familiar blonde who had walked to his side.

"(Y/n) is now cursed... Any moment now and she will fall into an eternal slumber, it is a curse that no one will be able to break" Angelica explained and those were the last words you heard before your world came crashing around you and you fell into the inky blackness.

Everyone ran out of the castle in a hallucinogen fuelled hysteria as it became shrouded in overgrowth that grew from the little seeds that Angelica had planted around the castle. They all came spread to the ends of the earth with stories to tell of terrifying monsters of various kinds and a sleeping princess. Most enough to keep all from ever considering of saving you.

But there were no monsters nor was your sleep eternal. Angelica lied about the curse, like you had said before your drink had been spiked. It was simply a trick.

Soon you would come to and both the fairy and the Prince would be waiting. That would be their happily ever after, but not yours.

Angelica draping over your body as she twirled your hair. Giving you constant compliments as Massimo kissed your lips, he didn't usually show his emotions but deep inside he was as head over heels with you as he was with Angelica.