#wrote most of this yesterday I just had to sleep for like a million years before I could form enough thoughts again to finish and post lol

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Ok I have thoughts about Mark and his dad.

(Warning probably kinda dark/heavy stuff, pretty much what was in the play)

ok so (this might be long)

We know that Marks mother died and it’s alluded to that Marks father was responsible because he was DUI and crashed.

The play is set in New Jersey, and if that’s where this occurred then the charge for vehicular manslaughter while DUI is apparently 5-10 years in prison (plus a fine I believe) (Let’s say 10 years for plot reasons >:))

Marks father mentions that Mark lives with him, but also that he was 7 at the time of the incident.

Surely Mark would have gone to live with family or been put into foster care, and probably had a lot of complicated feelings about his father- so how did he end up living with him after he got released?

Personally I’ve been thinking that Mark just felt responsible for his father, he was notified that he got released, went and picked him up and then took him home so that he could live with him.

I wonder if the guilt of what marks father had done, killing his wife and leaving his son without parents, had taken a toll on his mind. I wonder if when he got out of prison if he was a wreck or if he was doing better, but slowly it crept back up on him.

I wonder if Mark had gone to visit him when he was a kid and hated his father for what he’d done, or if he’d even understood it at all. Maybe he went when he was little, confused and scared because his father who’d always been drunk and possibly abusive was now locked away. He was told he had to go visit him because he was his father, but maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe when he started to understand it all as he got older he stopped going, and then when his dad got out he was the one who reached out to Mark.

Maybe Mark actually ignored him. He was 17 and hated the man for what he’d done and how he’d acted, and now he wanted to be back in his life?

I like to think that by this point Mark was living on his own, dropped out of school and got a job to support himself to get out of whatever situation he’d been put in.

Maybe his father guilt tripped him. Telling him he had to care about his father- they were blood! Telling him he should care for him because he’d sacrificed everything by going to prison when really it was Marks fault. Telling him lies until he caved and let him stay with him.

Then his father turned back to alcohol, Mark tried to stop him, pouring bottles down the sink. But it wasn’t any use.

And now he’s stuck, trapped back with the man who he never wanted to see again and living half believing that he was the reason for everything that had happened.

idk it just. makes me think :)

[johnwickluva]

Hiiii I have a request idea.

How about a quick head cannon John and reader who is a crybaby or very sensitive (she’s like bubbles from the power puff girls. And I didn’t see in your rules on age gap relationship and if u can’t do to with them in a legal age gap relationship too)

Crybaby

Word count: 1k

Summary: you two are watching a movie when the floodgates open.

AN: so this is based off that video of the woman crying over the bunny dying in TLOU. I also left the age gap out, i apologize I didn’t know how to fit it in. To answer your question though the biggest age gap I’ll do is 20 years with the reader being 30 and John being 50.

You and John were sitting on the couch watching a movie. His arm was around your shoulders as you snuggled up against his side. You were engrossed in the film as he methodically rubbed up and down your bicep. The two of you were comfortable as the scene played out.

There was a little bunny on the screen, searching for food. You let out an, ‘awww’ at the utter cuteness. It was white with a little black nose and just looked totally adorable. You held your hands to your heart as you stared at the cute bunny. John couldn’t help but chuckle at your gushing.

You decided you wanted to get a pet bunny.

“We should get one John.” You said in a higher pitched voice.

John’s hand came up to scratch his beard before laying it back down on the couch.

“Should we?” He responded.

Suddenly just as it came on the screen an arrow went through it. You let out a gasp. It let out a little squeak and fell to the ground as it was pinned by the arrow. Your whole mood changed. the tears started to well up in your eyes.

“Oh my god.” You cried, “that was horrible!”

John kinda wanted to laugh but hated to see your tears. He hugged you close to him and kissed the top of your head. You let the tears run down your cheeks as you tried to find the remote to turn the movie off. That was awful. You hated whoever wrote that movie and would be rating it a one star even though it was pretty good up until then.

“You’re okay. It was probably CGI.” He tried to soothe you.

“Yeah but it was so cute.” You sobbed.

John looked at the clock and read that it said one am. Yeah it was definitely time for bed. He stood up from the couch where you still laid in a ball, crying. The man had to chuckle. You were as cute as that bunny but he still didn’t like to see you cry. He knew that you cried over everything though.

Even yesterday you started crying because the gas light came on in your car before that you cried over a baby in a stroller. John could think of a million instances where you cried over small things. He found it endearing and cute. You were soft and he liked that about you as he was not.

Or at least John didn’t feel that way. Like most people he could really only think of his bad qualities. The first few times you cried like that in front of him he freaked out but after the hundredth time he knew exactly what to do. He kneeled down by the side of the couch and brought his hands up to wipe your tears away.

You looked into John’s eyes and although you knew he found this reaction a little dramatic he was still comforting you, which made you cry even more. He was so sweet, unlike any man you’d ever met before. You let out a sob and he was starting to worry. This was a pretty unusual reaction. Why were you crying harder?

“You’re the nicest man I’ve ever met John.” You sniffled.

John smiled at you but couldn’t help but think of the darker things he’d done. Nice wasn’t usually a word people used to describe him. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“Thanks, but let’s go to bed.” He said.

At this you looked at the clock and shot up, uncurling from your ball.

“Holy shit.”

John laughed and grabbed your hand before walking with you to the bedroom. In the bedroom you grabbed your sleep pants and one of his t-shirts. Your eyes felt heavy from crying as you dressed in your pajamas. After stepping into your pants you made your way over to the bed. You laid down and pulled the cover back for him.

“I need my snuggle bug.” You reached out for him like a kid wanting a toy.

John laughed again and turned on the lamp before shutting the main light off. He got into bed and held you. Kissing the top of your head for the tenth time he laid his cheek on it. You squeezed him tightly. He really was like a man out of your dreams. Handsome, tall, skilled (in multiple ways), and sweet.

All your other past partners made fun of your tears, some would even get angry. John always wiped them away and made sure you were okay. You knew he found it ridiculous too but you didn’t care because he’d never seriously make fun of you. Your lips came down to kiss his pec as you felt the tears coming again.

They never stopped. You didn’t even know why you cried so much but usually once they started it was hard to stop. Right now, you had a lot of love for John. Your heart felt full and you couldn’t stop yourself. You got on top of him and started peppering kisses all over his face. He closed his eyes and smiled at the feeling.

Then he could feel the wetness. You were crying again.

“What’s got you crying this time?” He asked.

“You! I love you so much.” You kissed his lips.

The two of you made out, your lips and tongues coming together. Your hands came to thread through his hair while he came to wipe your cheeks again. You both continued like that for minutes. When you pulled back you smiled at each other.

“I love you too.” He said.

You finally got back into position with your head on his chest and laid with him. Your hand came up to grab one of his and you held his hand. You squeezed it and he squeezed back.

“My ex would yell at me for crying.” You confessed.

John felt his eyebrows furrow. Why would someone yell at you? It wasn’t annoying and it’s not like you could help it.

“What an ass.” He said in his smooth voice.

“Yeah they were an asshole.” You agreed. “Goodnight John.”

“Goodnight YN.”

John leaned over to turn off the lamp, and with heavy eyes, the two of you fell asleep, cuddled up with one another.

[mollowosh]

Dear [X]; Love [Y] (Story)

Dear [X], 

It’s all so strange and confusing without you here.

It was only yesterday when I was holding your hand and not worrying about a time when I’d have to let go.

On a stage bathed in spotlights, you were always somehow the brightest thing in the room.

Time will end, as will all things.

And once it does, we will finally reunite.

When I lost you, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand what was happening in my mind, so I decided I wanted to learn - I went to the library and read books about grief and learned a lot; for example, that the 5 stages of grief are largely a myth, and that there is no single common framework for how people experience grief. I learned that not just some, but a majority of those who lose loved ones report seeing them in dreams. I pored over letters and speeches of people talking about their loss, and learned the most common phrases people use to describe it - how they talk about infinity, how they can't sleep, how otherwise boring anecdotes become intensely laden with both sadness and happiness. I learned how the most objective and cold writers would break down, revealing a nervous wreck of superlatives and hyperboles, for there is no middle ground in death. 

I felt like I understood grief. I was able to predict and name every symptom and crushing blow I dealt with, I knew dozens of people over thousands of years who had experienced the same thing as me, I could predict how I would feel tomorrow, understand what every other person who has lost someone would say to me, and… and I learned that none of it helped me in any way. I learned that no matter how much I read, no matter how many nights I spent scouring books and reports, no matter how much I understood grief, none of it mattered. I had all the information I could possibly ask for, and was hopelessly and utterly lost. 

One common thread between all the stories of overcoming grief that I came across is that time heals wounds. It has been so long since I have last seen you, and I don’t feel any better. I feel stagnant, like you were the sole driving force of my life. I thought maybe understanding this thing on my shoulders would make me feel less alone, or tell me how to deal with it, or- I don’t know, something. But every time I sat down once again in the library, I just felt empty. And I don’t know what, or who, or why I am without you. I still don’t know anything.

A death-related tradition I read about that stuck with me is the simple practice of grieving individuals writing letters to their dead. Not notes about them like obituaries and such, I mean letters written specifically to the deceased, to read as though they were still alive. Though not a specific tradition or named cultural practice, this is something that people like me, across valleys and time, have done to deal with the loss of someone we hold dear. So, so many people have written these, and although I can’t read every last letter of the sort, I feel such a deep and terrible loss that it’s like I can sense them - ghosts of messages to the beyond that carry the hearts and tears of their authors like boats and their cargo sailing into the space between the moon and the horizon. I don’t know what they wrote, but to an extent I know what they felt while writing them. All of us are one, united in grief - although I’ve only lost you, it feels like I’ve lost a million other things. In a way, that million other things has been the combined tragedy of all the other letter writers, whose shoes I’ve now worn and pain I now understand. 

And I still feel alone, but they do too.

You meant everything to me, you still mean everything to me.

I will make my way back to you, I promise.

One eternity at a time.

Love, 

[Y]

… 

Dear [X],

I remember the first time I dreamed about you after your death.

It was essentially a fictional retelling of how the two of us met. I was the lead in a small production of a play with you in the audience, and I remember you were sitting in the corner, close to the door. I was an energetic, dominating presence onstage, the sort of lead where you can tell they were waiting their whole life for this moment, and somehow could also tell they were an expert in their craft. The audience of around 60 people was respectfully quiet as we performed, but you were somehow quieter, in an appreciative, patient way. I could imagine you taking notes with a pen and notepad if it weren't something that would attract attention. 

Your legs were crossed, hands on your lap, eyes protecting a mind constantly swimming with thoughts. I didn’t fall in love at first sight as many would assume, but as I glanced across the audience, making momentary eye contact with random theatergoers in random order, you held my attention for an imperceptible moment longer than the rest. I didn’t think much of it, but I remembered your face for no clear reason. It’s funny which kinds of things our dreaming minds deem important to keep realistic, and which they decide can drift into fantasy.

In reality, I never enter a stage without a paranoid amount of practice, but in this dream, I and the rest of the team were playing it fast and loose. Improvising here and there, forgetting lines and filling them in with our own - I usually get quite nervous before a performance, but at this moment I didn’t know such anxiety. It's like the play was the world, and everything else was intermission. The performance ended, the audience clapped, I bowed, and I woke up.

For a moment in my dreams, you are not only still there, but a blank slate with an unimaginable journey ahead.

Back in the real world, I remember the lead up to our first date - I spent so long in my closet and in front of the mirror choosing the right outfit, adjusting my shirt collar, doing my hair, and so on. Then, when I apprehensively arrived at the restaurant, I remember seeing you with impressively messy hair and an incorrectly knotted tie. Some may have interpreted it as careless or disrespectful, but I didn’t. Instead, that was when I realized it - you and I were cosmically different, and exactly the same.

We both shared a passion for performance, and when we took the stage together, it was like we perfectly balanced each other out. Your brashness and impulsive loudness perfectly counteracted my subdued, calm nature - I remember one time our friends joked that you were the id, and I was the superego. I’m not sure if that was true beyond lighthearted banter, though. You were arguably as mature as me but just decided that acting like it simply wasn’t for you. But one thing was true: together we were the ego, the wonderful sum of contradictory parts. And I finally understood how you felt on stage, how the great unknown was one of the greatest possible comforts, and how the bright residue of spotlights leftover in our retinas felt just like free fall. 

I remember the first time I saw you in real life.

It started as one of many nights spent alone, but not particularly lonely. I always try to support my local theater, and recently read that there were some new members of the production. Walking into that place is very comforting to me, the seats’ warm leather and stage’s warmer lighting like a beacon of consistent comfort in my life. I arrived late by regular theatergoer standards, so settled for a seat in the back corner, near the door. The moments before a play starts are always somewhat magical - though devoid of life, the set onstage sits idle, and all you can do is imagine exactly what each bit will be used for. An empty stage is potential energy in its most raw form. Eventually, the lights lowered, the audience clapped for the start of the play, and I crossed my legs in anticipation. 

It was a good story. If I’m being totally honest, I don’t remember it super well which I guess means it wasn’t amazing, but I had a good time. The main character was introduced in the second scene, and though I knew nothing about the story, I could immediately tell it was the main character by the way you played it. That sounds like a bad thing - all I mean to say is you were a dominating personality on stage, in all the ways a main character should be. As your eyes darted across the audience during an aside, I was one of the people you made momentary eye contact with. And maybe it was a trick of the mind, but I felt like we held each other’s eyes for slightly longer than everyone else. Your eyes were simultaneously focused and clearly having a lot of fun. 

I saw you after the play standing outside hanging out with some other audience members. I walked up and complimented you on your performance - I didn’t fall in love immediately, as one might assume, but your face stuck in my mind for no particular reason. I mean, I guess I thought you were attractive, but I thought that about lots of people. You just sort of effortlessly stood out in an industry where standing out is many peoples’ priority, like the one rose that you stop to smell. Then you thanked me and invited me to a local bar for a drink. I thought maybe you were saying you were interested in me, but I’d learn later that you were actually just bored and chose me at random. You didn’t overthink, always said life’s more fun that way. We became friends quite easily, I realized I was in love over the course of a couple of months but kept it quiet, out of the blue you revealed to me that you were also in love and asked for a date, and the rest is self-explanatory. 

It’s funny which kinds of things our memories deem important to keep realistic, and which things they decide can drift into fantasy.

You were nothing if not a walking contradiction, a distortion in space and time with terribly messy hair.

It was nice to see you again.

Love,

[Y]

… 

Dear [X],

A little while after I met you, when I knew I was in love but too afraid to approach you, I didn’t understand what was happening in my mind. Something had changed, my world was falling away at my feet and being replaced with a new one. I decided that I wanted to learn - I found a random library I had never been to, and sat down to read some books about love to try and comprehend this warm thing in my chest. And in that research, I learned two different theories about love.

The first states that we seek romantic partners due to an emptiness within our own lives. That if we were truly, actually happy, we wouldn't need another person to lean on. Basically, you wouldn’t need an “other half” if you yourself were whole. The second theory is a sort of opposite: that love, true love, is only possible once one fully loves themself. That it is only when someone fully accepts their own whole that they can properly recognize, receive, and reciprocate the love of another. I’m not sure I fully believe either of these. When I think of what my relationship to you was, I wouldn’t say I was necessarily incomplete or complete - I was infinitely flawed and infinitely aware of those flaws, as were you. I think we are far too complex for a simple designation of one or zero. Regardless, one bit of both ideas is definitely true: our relationship to love is inextricably linked with our relationship to ourselves.

You know, it occurs to me that I don’t actually have a very good definition of acceptance. It could be argued that I accepted it the next day, as after a sleepless night I rolled over to see an unimaginably large void where you usually slept beside me, the end of everything replaying for every instant you were not there - the stage empty, the spotlight burnt out. Is acceptance simply the knowledge that you are gone forever? I suppose acceptance isn’t simply knowledge - knowledge, at least by itself, is entirely cold and directionless. In order to make sense, knowledge needs context, and the simple literal fact of death is just as meaningless as my understanding of it. Something has to surround it, cradle it, give it direction and meaning. Something else has to enter the equation to turn it into acceptance.

I remember the first time I dreamed about you after I became okay. After a million nights of spiraling into sleep, one night I just drifted into it, and found myself standing upright in an empty void. Everything stretched into every direction, a plane of impossible dimensions filled with an impossible quantity of absence. And then suddenly, without appearing or approaching, you were there in front of me. I didn’t say anything, I’m not sure if it was my choice or the dream not letting me. You didn’t either, just wordlessly walked up to me and gave me a hug. It was the first dream after losing you in which I was consciously aware that you were not actually there. For the first time, I understood fully that you were just a figment of my imagination, understood the journey each of us had been on, and understood my purpose. And so it wasn’t you that hugged me and sobbed into my shoulder. It wasn’t you that, after many minutes, backed up with your hands on my shoulders, and looked bittersweetly into my eyes. It wasn’t you who took a deep breath, took another step back, and solemnly waved goodbye. It was not me who waved goodbye back. And when I woke up and rolled over in bed, you were not laying next to me, just as you hadn’t been for all of eternity. 

And I learned that although love is such a primitive and brutish force, it is perhaps the most complex thing in the world. And later, after you passed away, I learned that just as brutal is the aftermath of love’s departure.

Acceptance is not the knowledge that you are gone. Acceptance, at least for me, is the understanding that both love and loss are infinitely more nuanced than a simple designation of known or unknown. It’s not receiving the truth, it’s moving forward in spite of it - realizing that what we lose isn’t all the world has to offer. I think we, and every construct we build is just allergic to classification - to be is to feel, and to feel is to be absurdly, inconveniently complicated. So this’ll be the last letter I send to you. This isn’t to say I won’t be talking to you anymore, I definitely still have more to say, it’s just the last time I will communicate formally. I think I might be ready to move forward. You know, see what the world has to offer. I remember you telling me that - “though jumping may take effort and landing may be rough, there’s no feeling quite like free fall.” 

We will meet again, far from here, long from now. But at the moment, I think both of us want the world to continue revolving.

I love you with all my heart, I miss you with all my heart, I shall continue on with all my heart. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. 

We will end, as will all things. 

And when we do, time will finally resume.

Love,

[Y]

[jj-maybank123]

ICU

JJ Maybank x Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author’s note: Hey!! I’m new into the OBX fandom. I fell in love with JJ and I wrote this quick thing :) Also, this happens in between them finding out John B is alive and them reuniting in Charleston. 

Summary: Based on ICU by Phoebe Bridgers

The grass was cold against her warm sun-kissed skin. Y/N was lying on the front lawn of her house as JJ tried to pick the lock of the front door of her shitty house. What started out as an innocent get together at the Chateau had quickly turned into drinking, smoking, and a late night swim. It was around 2am when everyone left and JJ offered to walk her home, he had decided it wouldn’t be safe for her to walk alone even though it was just a couple of blocks and she had done it a million times before.

“JJ, leave it. I’m tired and I wanna sleep. I’ll just sleep outside,” Y/N groaned. “...or climb the window.”

They had been stuck outside of her house for about an hour trying to open a door. Her Mom was working a night shift and she couldn’t find her keys anywhere, after retracing her steps she deemed it a lost cause but JJ insisted he could pick the lock and asked for her hairpin. At first she stood beside him, even tried to do it herself, but after the first 30 minutes she decided there was no point in trying the impossible. However, JJ wouldn’t budge. He was convinced she had used a hidden key a few years ago to get them inside.

“You are not climbing anything, okay? You’re still drunk.” JJ placed his hands on his hips, his eyebrows furrowed and his hair slightly messy.

“I’ll just wait here until I feel fine enough to climb,” She insisted.  

He sighed, before walking away from the front door towards her, “Okay, fine.”

She was about to say goodbye when JJ laid down next to her.

“I’ll wait with you.”

“JJ,” She said firmly, “Go home. You need to rest, you have work in like 4 hours.”

Their shoulders were just barely touching as they laid side by side, face turned so they could see each other.

“What if a bear attacks you?” he said.

“A bear? In the Outer banks?” He nodded. She rolled her eyes and laughed, “If a bear was to attack me right now I don’t think you’d be able to stop it. Leave and save yourself.”

“I totally would. You’re acting like I haven’t saved you before.”

“Please tell me when you’ve saved me.”

JJ shifted his body to be fully facing her. “That one time you fell off the swing and I carried you home.”

“That was like ten years ago-”

“When you almost drowned that one time last summer. When you fell from your bike. Yesterday, you made me go to your house to kill a spider. Uhhhh - Rafe! That’s a big one. Fought him for your honor. ”

“You got knocked out.”

“Yeah, after saving you!” He touched his chin with his pointer finger, “Let’s see what else.”

“Stop!” She was laughing, he wouldn’t stop naming the most random things he had done throughout the many years they had been friends.

“When you didn’t write that essay for Terry’s class, I called you in sick. Took the blame for the weed your mom found in your room, saved you from that too. When your tire popped in the middle of nowhere and John B and I drove all the way and fixed it. That one time you got so drunk I snuck you into-”

“Okay! Okay! I get it! You’re my knight and shining armor and I can’t be without you. Please stay.”

His eyes softened, “Always.”

He laid back down and a comfortable silence fell over them. They both looked up to the sky. It was a clear night, and they could see the bright stars shining above them. The only thing that could be heard was their breathing and grasshoppers chirping, but neither felt the need to say anything. They didn’t have to.

She was close with the other Pogues, of course, but it was different between her and JJ. They had always been comfortable around each other, no need to pretend. In many ways he knew her better than anyone else, even herself. To her, JJ was it. She had been in love with him since she was old enough to think and for a long time she thought maybe it could be mutual. That somehow JJ Maybank could love her back.

The last couple of months had been crazy, between finding the ship, gold, and John B being declared dead. But even with all the craziness, Y/N had never felt more alive, for the first time she was doing things for herself and not thinking about work and her mom. Somehow this summer had brought them closer together and things began to change between them. Stolen glances, lingering touches, excuses to be together for longer...everything was great but she couldn’t help but want more. 

“I feel like I didn’t start living until a few months ago,” Y/N broke the silence. JJ looked at her slightly confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Like I’ve been dead for years, you know? Not literally, but I was always pretending to be someone I’m not. But not anymore.” Not with you. “Like my life began the moment that we found that boat. I mean, sure the whole thinking-John-B-was-dead thing was horrible but it led to kinda great things and for the first time in so long I feel happy. But I’m so scared that things will suck again.”

She paused but JJ didn’t say anything, he just stared at her. Suddenly she felt stupid for opening her mouth.

“I’m sorry that makes no sense. I’m just thinking out loud. It’s probably the alcohol.”

“No, no. That makes all the sense in the world,” JJ sat up, “It’s like everything is so great now and I feel like it won’t last or that I’ll ruin it the way I always ruin things.”

“You don’t ruin things. Don’t say that,” She sat up and looked at him with so much care. How could he ever think that?

“Yeah, well, that’s not what my Dad thinks,” he said, “He always goes on about how I ruined his life and how I don’t have a future or that I’ll end up in jail.”

“I hate your Dad,” she said and she meant it. She hated the way he talked to him, she hated having to ice the bruises he’d give him. “Don’t listen to him. He has no idea what he is talking about.”

He avoided her eyes and started picking the grass. “I don’t know about that.”

“Hey,” She gently cupped his face so that he was facing her, “I mean it. You’re amazing, JJ.”

“How do you know?” He asked. 

“I see you,” Y/N said without a second of thought, “The way you truly are and it’s great.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, just looking at each other. Their eyes saying everything they didn’t have the courage to say. They had never been this close before, faces just inches away. She could see every detail of his face. How beautiful he was, the way his hair fell perfectly, a small scar on his forehead, his lips.

JJ looked down for a second before looking at her again, “That feeling that everything might go wrong… it disappears when I’m with you. I get the opposite actually, like everything might be okay.”

“Me too.” She spoke barely above a whisper.

Slowly, like gravity on a feather, they started leaning towards each other. Hesitation on both sides, knowing that kissing could change everything. That finally they could be transparent about their feelings, about how mad they are for each other, about how the real fear is about losing each other. Their noses touched, she could feel him breathing, his shaking hand came up to cup her neck. Y/N was leaning into his lips when suddenly he jerked away, his hand dropping.

Y/N was stunned. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. All she felt was her heart breaking as tears of humiliation and sadness filled her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” JJ said as he ran his hand through his hair, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She said quietly, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack.

“No, it’s not. I always do this, I always ruin things. I’m sorry,” His voice rose a little bit, he was frustrated. He took a deep breath and said,  “You’re my friend. I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won't,” Y/N said after a few moments of silence. She had decided that the only thing worse than JJ not loving her back would be to lose him completely. Having him as a friend would be better than not having him at all. “You’re my knight and shining armor, remember?”

“You don’t need me to protect you.”

“Maybe,” she felt her chest tighten, “But I like it when you do.”

“Yeah?” His voice was soft and vulnerable.

“Yeah. You just have to learn how to punch better and forget the gun.”

JJ laughed, “I’ll work on it just for you.”

“Good.” She smiled at him.

Silence fell over them, only this time it was different. The things left unsaid and undone lingered in the air. Regret and curiosity plagued their mind. They became aware of their surroundings. Sitting further from each other than they usually would, heavy eyelids due to the lack of sleep, the warm summer breeze that wrapped around them and the lack of darkness as the horizon turned into shades of oranges and pinks.

“I should probably go to bed,” she said, looking at the sky.

“Can we just stay here for a little bit?” JJ’s voice was small, like he was afraid of asking.

He let out a breath of relief when she nodded. They laid on the ground again, shoulders barely brushing, hands millimeters away; so close yet so far away.

[whats-wild-to-you]

omg u have to write something about yesterday plz im on my knees and im begging 😭

It’s the ultimate wedding serenade… like Jay will be singing this to his wife at their wedding … there’s no other way … not today though 😈

p.s. trigger warning: towards the end I’m using the R word … twice 🫢🫣

____________________________________________

You were 5 when you saw Park Jaebum for the first time. He played with his friends at the playground, his knees all scraped up but in that moment he was the most fascinating person to you. 2 years later, he kissed your cheek at school. 10 years after that you shared your first real kiss. He became your first boyfriend, but your first love didn't last long.

"I’m going to Korea!" He proudly announced one day. "I'm going to become a singer!"

You were happy for him, although your heart broke into a million pieces when you heard the news.

Trying to forget him was harder than you expected, especially when you saw him perform on tv. Several years had passed but he still occupied a big portion of your thoughts. And heart.

Only one year later he returned to Seattle. At first you weren't aware, but when you found out you looked for him. He was still the same, yet had changed so much. You wanted to be by his side again, but he pushed you away.

"I'm not going anywhere!" You called after him.

When he decided to return to Korea once more, you didn't hesitate. "I'm coming with you!"

He shook his head, told you you wouldn't like it, you'd be incredibly homesick and for a second you thought if that was how he had felt.

"I don't care. I'm not leaving you!"

"Ever?" He questioned.

You nodded.

"Promise."

"I promise!"

Luckily, you adjusted to life in Seoul pretty fast. Jay was busy recording songs and promoting, but he always brought you with him, proudly showing you off.

Luck was on his side and soon he was able to establish his own record label. The further up he climbed the ladder of success, the more you struggled to keep up with him.

Doubts started forming in your head, maybe you were holding him back.

You became Jay's shadow, always by his side but always hidden in the background as well. You didn't want to interfere with his business and never complained when he casted beautiful models to be in his videos. To you Jay Park and Park Jaebum were two different people.

You believed Jay appreciated you for that, but every now and then you questioned yourself if he took you for granted. You had become part of his team, his entourage, his inner circle, but you didn't feel as if you were his girlfriend anymore.

Afraid to approach the subject, you told yourself that he was too busy caring about important things and you shouldn't bother him with such trivial issues.

"Are you okay?" One day he asked you.

"갑자기?"

At that point you had known him for almost 20 years, and had been living with him in Korea for 10 years.

"How about I take the week off and we go somewhere nice?"

"Sounds good!"

While laying cuddled up on a lounge chair, overlooking the sea, you heard Jay sigh deeply.

"What is it?" You mumbled half-asleep.

"I just realized that I never thanked you. For sticking by me."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The last ten years were crazy, right? But you were always there by my side, walking with me."

"Of course, babe!"

He placed a dainty kiss on your cheek and pulled out his phone.

"I started working on a song last night, when you were sleeping. Here!" He handed you his phone where he wrote down a few lines in his Notes app.

Lost in thought, you read them out loud.

Whether I'm up or down Or I wear no crown Love me the same way the same way U did as yesterday Whether I'm rich or poor Just call me yours Love me the same way the same way U did as yesterday

"Did you write this for me?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, to me it is. Because I've been knowing you all my life."

"Through it all, the ups and downs, you were the one person always sticking by me. I wouldn't be able to be where I am right now without you. I hope you know that! With you by my side I'm not scared to retire because I know you will still love me just as much."

"If not more. But where is this coming from? Retirement?"

"I'm just thinking a lot about the future these days."

"Oh, yeah? What does the future look like?"

"You and I living in a house on the countryside, with a garden and a hairy dog."

"Tell me more."

"We would run around, chasing after our three kids while we ..."

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 2016 Brain fog still muddles my thoughts and so I’m not sure if I wrote about this or not, but I met the guy who ordered those sex pills from Thailand that I stupidly accepted and then dumped when I couldn’t find who they belonged to. It was a slender black guy who seemed a little too young to be living here or to have problems getting it up. Either way, he came to the back door once he learned we were the ones who signed for it. I told him I returned the package to Thailand, even though, as I said, I ended up dumping the thing. In fact, his hard-on was just inches away in the trash bin nearby.

Tom and I had just been talking about how there always seems to be some long-term drama or another going on in our lives and how I was determined to enjoy the good times but dreaded what drama might be next. First it was the freeloaders, then it was poverty, and then my health issues. My first thought was, oh no! I’m going to be in for legal problems again because I was stupid enough to accept something that wasn’t in my name, something I will never do again. I vowed not to answer any court calls that may appear in the mail or at the door, but then I realized that no one can prove that I didn’t in fact send it back to Thailand. Still, I had an anxious moment there. Not like I did when the freeloaders tried to suck me back into their legal clutches four years ago, but a slight uh-oh moment.

I’ve proven to myself that I can now make sure my schedule only jumps 1 hour a day and no more. Just 60 minutes. Just 60 lousy minutes away from holding it! I doubt I can, but once I’m getting up at 7am, I’m going to try. Tonight I’ll be getting up at 2am. Oh, to be able to sleep from 11pm to 7am every single day, even if it meant rarely being up during the most peaceful hours. Having those wee hours of the night simply not exist for me as they don’t for millions of others worldwide would be heaven. I still doubt it’ll happen any more than losing weight ever will, but I gotta try every now and then.

Pain, pain, pain. Every single day. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m going to the dentist in a week, I would be making an appointment to find out why the damn tooth is still irritating me.

I got my promotion code for the Pandora One pass I won, and I can’t say I’m very impressed. Song skipping is limited, and you can’t save songs to play whenever you want to play them. But I can do all this on Amazon Prime.

At the break of dawn, I went on a chilly walk for 28 minutes. I only ran a little part of it. But the point is that it’s the first time I ventured out that far alone since my medical issues have been resolved and had no problem at all. I KNEW my anxiety and wild HR were medically induced. I KNEW it. I know what’s normal for me. Never have I been terrified of nothing at all, and while I do have a rapid HR, it doesn’t usually feel like it’s going to explode.

No workers at Jackie’s today. In fact, it’s been an overall quiet and uneventful day so far.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 30, 2016 I think it’s pretty pathetic that this black chick had to go off on this white dude for wearing dreadlocks and “stealing” her culture in the video that was trending yesterday on Facebook. I swear there are more black racists these days than whites, but I know, I know. I’m supposed to be politically correct and not point that out because, well, I’m white, of course.

Racists (of any color) aren’t the point of this entry, though. The point is realizing how important it is that I move on and how much nicer it is not to have to live with the negative aspects of past friendships.

I know at first that I felt totally responsible for the loss of my friendship with Aly and wondered if I shouldn’t have just kept my opinions to myself and been there for her more often.

But you know what? I WAS there for her and I really don’t think I should feel guilty for my honesty. I was concerned and just trying to look out for her. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s true that I have become a bit too critical and judgmental with age and that I need to be more accepting and tolerant. Just not overly forgiving, though. Despite not being perfect myself, I realize there’s no point in rolling my eyes and condemning those who believe in God and other things I perceive as just fantasies and wishful thinking. If people aren’t hurting anybody, then to each their own, right?

The more time I’ve had to reflect on Aly’s dumping me, the more I realize that I truly am better off without her and that to reconnect with her, Andy, Paula or even Nane in the future would be taking a step backward in life. I don’t want to do that. The guilt trips Aly would put on me for not texting with her more often, her constant baggage, her throwing our friendship away as if it meant absolutely nothing… none of that will be missed. Just her close connection to Kim could be stressful enough, as I would really have to watch what I said and did. Aly was just way too sensitive. And a hypocrite.

I wish those from my past the very best, but that’s it. They’re in my past to stay and I don’t see myself changing my mind anytime soon, if ever.

Went walking/jogging this morning for 26 minutes. His HR peaked at 104 and mine at 146, though it didn’t feel like mine got that high.

TUESDAY, MARCH 29, 2016 We’re having another unusually cold spell and I’m not sure I really want to walk in the 40° weather to the clubhouse for this morning’s workout. I would still rather be too warm than too cold.

I had a dream Tom was raised to $18 an hour. When I told him about it when he got up, he said that wasn’t possible. Someday, yes, but not this year. Well, hopefully soon enough we’ll find out if he’s even getting a raise for sure.

The second dream was the usual negativity filled with nig-induced legal woes from hell.

Tom took me out for a nice dinner somewhere before going to court, not something I would voluntarily do unless I was the plaintiff. Then it seemed like we were going down a street we used to live on. A part of it was really steep and I thought of how scary it might be to ride my bike down. But as quick as that part of the dream began, it ended and I was in jail.

The girl was walking me through a large dorm. I don’t know if this girl was an inmate or someone who volunteered or worked at the jail, but it seemed like her job was to get me situated there. We walked past rows of twin-size cots with tiny shelves or dressers between them. I saw radios and other torturous instruments that would no doubt keep me awake or at least annoy the fuck out of me when I was awake.

I guess I was charged with two things but I hadn’t been sentenced yet. I’m not sure what the first charge was, but the second one was racially motivated and I was horrified at the thought of having to spend about a year in jail waiting to be sentenced, and then another year, as the girl suggested I might have to if I was convicted.

She spoke with much contempt in her voice, particularly when she discussed the charge that had to do with race.

Later…

I arrived at the clubhouse 5 minutes late and left early. I overheated and my HR soared and pounded, though I never got scared or panicked in any way. They just keep it WAY too warm in there. Also, they’re really nice ladies but I’m getting sick of the same old shitty music. Shirley said Janice, who was my favorite there, left and I might, too. Yoga, aerobics… that just isn’t me. I prefer to keep it simple. No counting. No routines. Just lift weights or throw on my sneaks and hit the road with the music of MY choice. Seriously if I hear Blueberry Hill one more time I’ll scream!

I think I have enough variety in walking, running and bike riding. Plus I have the Bowflex. I’m always going to be 30 pounds overweight no matter what I do, so none of this is doing me any good in any way other than to keep me healthier, and stronger, and give me more stamina. I have joint issues if I’m too inactive. Despite being flexible for my age, it’s sad how much mobility I have lost due to being heavy and aging.

But dead thyroids don’t come back to life, genetics don’t change, and people don’t get any younger. So as they say, I just have to change what I can and accept what I can’t.

Unless it’s too hot, cold or raining, I’m not a big fan of working out indoors. I like to be out in the fresh air.

I was cleaning the master bathroom earlier and I pushed a little too hard and got the toilet brush stuck in the toilet. Yes, only I would do something like that. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get it out on my own at first, but with a little maneuvering, I lodged it free.

Note to self: Don’t ever do anything so idiotic again, ok?

I put the central fan on and opened the bedroom window to push out some of the chemical smells from the household cleaners I used, and then I brought the diffuser in there afterward. So now vintage roses are wafting throughout the master bath and bedroom.

MONDAY, MARCH 28, 2016 My teeth still hurt and my solar keyboard needs to do some sunbathing till the tape lights arrive that we plan to install under our desks facing down upon the keyboards.

I slept shitty once again in that I woke up a lot, but I don’t feel as tired as I was yesterday because I slept on and off for 9 hours instead of 8 or less.

Did a ton of shopping at Walmart and on Amazon. A lot of it was stuff that was needed. I’m going to try another nail fungus killer on the 3 toes that are infected and see if this one will do the trick. If not I’ll just live with it since it’s harmless. It’s just that it’d make the nail smoother and thinner thus easier to cut and polish if I could get rid of the fungus.

I also got some more essential oils so I have a better variety, new bath gloves, a couple of coloring books I didn’t need, and Herbal Essence shampoo. Sorry, but I just can’t get into the TRESemme craze. The stuff just feels heavy and doesn’t lather very well at all.

I also got a hot pink thong, two pairs of sweatpants (pink and black), and 3 pairs of shorts (pink, gray, black).

Besides the strip lights, we ordered that window mural I mentioned before on Amazon, plus I got my favorite popcorn (they never have the quantity I prefer at the store), plus 5 more animal figures. About a dozen more and I’ll consider my collection of miniature animals and fairies complete! My snakes and hermit crab aren’t exactly “miniature,” though.

Had a bunch of weird dreams. Weird and X-rated.

Two couples arrived at wherever I was at the same time to invite me out to dinner, in which we all finally agreed to go as a group. I seemed to be in a large house, and as I headed to the bathroom to freshen up and apply a little makeup, some brat came tearing through the place screaming and I secretly hoped the thing wouldn’t be accompanying us to dinner.

Then Tom did a great job of driving on a beach without getting stuck in the sand, and I was in another large house in which I and who knows how many others we to move (or to be moved) out of, and then into another house that might’ve been next door.

People, including myself, were pissed that we had to wait another hour to move. Someone glared at me annoyed that I was annoyed with having to wait, but I didn’t care. Instead, I went and showered. But as I took off my dark purple sports bra, I noticed a white film inside of it and my first fear was some kind of mold or fungus. But then I dropped it to the floor and was herded out of the house topless, along with the others, to the new house. No one seemed to mind or even notice that I was topless, but I felt very uncomfortable. Hey, it wasn’t 1993 anymore when I was a young skinny dancer.

Time seemed to pass and I was hanging outside, arms across my bare boobs when a couple came up and started chatting with me. They had something I wanted to buy from them that they were happy to show and sell me, though I don’t know what. I apologized for being topless, explaining the quick move we were made to do, and a mousy woman said, “Oh, it’s no problem.”

I lay in bed that night unable to sleep. We were supposedly waiting to get our belongings from the other house the next day. Tired of being topless, I stole out into the darkness and ran over to the other house. I scurried into the bathroom to grab my discolored bra but instead found a bright pink shirt. I snatched it up and ran down the stairs. Just as I was headed for the front door, I heard something in back of the house and realized I wasn’t alone. This made me run faster, not wanting to be seen and get in trouble.

SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 2016 “It's best to have crumbs with bums than steaks with fake ass snakes. Be true. If no one likes you for you, they don't matter.”

I absolutely LOVE this comment made to me!

I know I said a few entries ago that that would be it as far as the Aly/Kim thing goes, but today I woke up feeling numb where Aly is concerned.

Aly, the “friend” that called me a fatty when she was sticking up for those picking on Molly.

Aly, the “friend” that told me Kim’s face reminded her of an elephant without the trunk which she wouldn’t DARE say directly to Kim. So maybe Aly isn’t much truer of a friend than Kim, though that’s their problem.

Aly, the “friend” that I realized could give Kim or anyone else any amount of info on me she wanted if she could give me all the personal info she’s given me on Kim. I didn’t learn that Kim’s sister Carol dumped her husband and kids for another woman from a Chinese fortune cookie.

Then again, I really don’t know if numb is the proper word. Resigned may be more like it. All I do know is that I don’t feel saddened or angry at this point. Shocked, yes. She really never struck me as the dumping type. That’s always been more my department. In fact, I almost dumped the rest of my friends yesterday on every site I have them on, knowing my life would be easier if I just limited my contact to family only. That way they wouldn’t get a chance to piss me off and I wouldn’t get a chance to offend anyone with my bluntness. But I couldn’t live with the guilt, so I didn’t go on a deleting frenzy after all.

I understand, however, that it wasn’t just about me being critical and not crazy enough for her, but more like no longer needed. Once she got her old texting buddy back, then she didn’t really need me. But there are plenty of others that DO need, want and accept me as I am and that DO give a shit about me. Those are the ones I’ll be focusing on from here on out. :)

Later…

LOL, Kim has been creating new accounts on Prosebox for her silly fan fantasies. There are three of them that I know of. But surprisingly, she hasn’t blocked me from any of them. Instead, I have been the one to take the honors, fittingly, as I’m the one who has been stalked.

Out of natural curiosity, I wonder if she’s read me on Blogger or my-diary since she can’t read me on Prosebox. I’m staying FO on Prosebox for now regardless of her. She can still block my account either way, but I’ve chosen to remain FO for a while longer because I’m not open to new friends and not because of what she may do. She and Aly can read all they want. I just don’t ever want to hear from Kim or Molly.

I’ve been trying to decide what to do about the 5 places I’m currently writing at, which is a bit too many to manage. I think I’ll drop my-diary and LiveJournal, which means Kim and Aly will have to show themselves on Blogger unless they disable cookies. I’m just bored with my-diary and LiveJournal. I’ll probably keep my public Blogger blog public, but not bother to post private entries/sections on any site other than when I back up everything on Amazon’s cloud because it’s just pointless. Or maybe I’ll just back those up on Prosebox, but not LiveJournal or my private Blogger blog.

I’m going to keep doing Facebook Notes for Tammy, so the 3 places I’ll be writing at will be Blogger, Prosebox and Facebook. I’ll leave a forwarding link to Blogger on LiveJournal, but I’m not going to give a heads-up on my-diary. I’m going to just leave.

Later…

I don’t know if it’s PMS or something else, but damn am I tired tonight. I’m beyond tired. I almost feel like I’ve been drugged. Had a strange ache between my shoulder blades and a bit of a sore throat too, though I don’t feel sick like I’m coming down with anything.

I keep going off balance easily as well, but as Tom pointed out, that’s because I need my bad ear cleaned. I will be seeing the ENT next month.

Our motion censored kitchen pail broke and I can’t say I’m not kind of glad. I know Tom loves high-tech stuff, but I never cared for the damn thing because it would go through batteries like crazy. So much so that he started using rechargeables, but it was still a pain going to open the thing just to find the battery had died. So he’ll use that in the storeroom, and off we’ll be going later on to Walmart for the one I wanted in the first place and that I told Mr. High-Tech to get. :) I just want a regular, no-frills pail.

We did a small grocery run yesterday morning, and I got a miniature doll with dark hair and eyes. Yes, it’s perfectly childish, but it’s so adorably cute standing on the kitchen counter.

My sister has her laptop set up on a small table in her bedroom, which is a large room just like mine. Since we’ll eventually get a new kitchen set and I have other places to eat, color and do whatever at, I dragged our little round table into the bedroom so I can work in there during the daytime when it’s quieter. At night I’ll be in the living room with my laptop hooked up to my 32” smart TV.

I moved one of our 3 giant artificial plants from the spot the table now sits at, and that exposed much of the wall in that area. What did the sticker fanatic do? Sure enough, she picked out this gorgeous window mural for that spot. The mural is of cherry trees in a park with bright lush green grass. You can see a few people milling about, too.

It shouldn’t clash with the mint green walls in there, as some murals and wall décor can when it comes to colored walls, because of the white frame.

I had a dream Tom and I were staying someplace (on vacation or to live?) and I was in the living room when I glanced up at the sunlight streaming through the blinds. I then got up and looked out the large window there. Instead of seeing lots of houses like you do here, I gazed out at a vast and lovely natural setting. It didn’t look like a pine forest like up in Oregon or even like the woods of Auburn. It wasn’t densely wooded at all. Instead, there were sprawling green hills with scattered trees.

I don’t miss the extreme cold and snow, but I miss rural living. Not the hassles it’d bring like having to burn or haul trash, and not the wells going out, but the seclusion and peace. Minus any landlord’s mutts that are never allowed indoors, of course.

This climate here is both good and bad when you think about it. It’s good in that it doesn’t get extremely hot or cold, but if you’re a noise hater who’s easily distracted, well, we escaped the snow and mega cold but didn’t warm up enough to shut the people up in the wintertime. People are out and about here year-round, though more active in the winter.

Later…

Oh, fucking shit. Like really! Oh. Fucking. Shit. How can I be so damn dumb at times???

For the first time in ages, I thought to double-check my friends who have access to my FO blog on PB. I admit I'm more open on that particular site due to the number of friends I've acquired there. I decided to clean up my friends and basically delete those I never hear from like I do from time to time on Facebook.

Sure enough, I spot one of Aly's many accounts. She may not even remember she has that account because both she and Kim create account after account on every single site they use, something I'll never get. They create, delete, create, delete, create, delete, occasionally just abandoning some of them without bothering to deactivate first. Usually, that's a sign one's doing something wrong, but their reasons are their reasons and that's not what matters. All that matters is that I not be so careless like that again! I blocked the account just in case she does remember it exists. If she's aware of it and remembers the PW, who knows if she looked in on that particular blog or not, but I think I finally have all ports closed that I wish to close. I don't care who sees what elsewhere, but PB is strictly FO only for now.

SATURDAY, MARCH 26, 2016 At first I was determined not to mention this at all in public, but when Aly betrayed me by telling Kim that I discussed her with her, I came to have a WTF attitude. If they can’t respect my wishes, why respect theirs and keep my mouth shut? It’s not like I’m posting any sensitive info anyway, and I don’t know that they’re reading me in the first place. Nothing visible showed up on my tracker yesterday from either one of them, although someone did spend a half-hour on the same entry on Blogger. Can’t say who it is, though, other than that they’re in the US. When my tracker can’t figure out the exact location of someone, it just defaults to something like Kansas City, MO.

I may delete entries pertaining to them at some point, but don’t know for sure. I’m kinda torn on that. I shouldn’t be bashing them publicly whether they know about it or not, but at the same time it is my journal and I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t have a problem with sharing the same sites or with them reading me. I only get pissed when Kim needlessly plays victim by blocking me.

I still can’t believe Aly dumped me, but I would rather be dumped by all my friends for being honest than gain many friends by not being honest. It’s a reminder that anyone can dump us at any time for any reason and that no relationship is guaranteed for life. I kind of went from shocked to bummed to what you might call stubbornly determined and maybe a touch mad. Meaning that I have mixed emotions about the whole thing. I’m not going to miss the drama one bit, but I’ll miss Aly’s intelligence, creativity and insight. I don’t know why she’d dump someone who’s been upfront with her and hang onto someone who’s lied and two-faced her (I even once pointed out a nasty comment Kim made on Kathy’s Facebook wall about her), but for reasons I'll never understand, it's as okay for Kim to be dishonest as it is not okay for me to be honest. Well, Aly can enjoy all 330 pounds of the sorry sack of shit then.

She has a right to do what she has to do, though I did send her a text and an email telling her to at least say hello every now and then if she hasn’t already deactivated her email account and changed phone numbers.

Still, I don’t hate her. I don’t think she’s an “idiot.” I don’t think she plays a victim either. I think she’s made some unwise choices in life and has a strange sense of who she considers a “friend” vs. who she can’t “forgive,” but to say I don’t think much of her is bullshit. Sure, it’s a little insulting that she prefers lying whack jobs like Kim as opposed to one who’s always tried to be honest with her, but again, she has a type and obviously she likes those who will lie and two-face her. The slave/bondage obsession; that alone is a sign a person likes at least some degree of abuse, right?

So Kim…lie to her and tell her to “have fun” whenever she goes to the doctor. Be sure, if she ever joins Ask and allows for anonymous questions, to insult her the way you did me, and be sure to bash her to Kathy and anyone else you can behind her back. It’s ok. Aly will still love you. But never ever be honest, not that you’re capable of it to begin with.

And Aly, I’m sorry you feel this is what you deserve, but it’s your life and your right to pick and choose your “friends” as you see fit.

But me? I’m nobody’s liar. That’s why, as easy as it would’ve been, I didn’t just go along with Andy when he’d accuse me of lying to him because he has trust issues and was dumb, ignorant and uneducated about some things he didn’t get or couldn’t relate to. I’d have been the liar he accused me of being had I said, “Alright, alright. I’m making up my sleep disorder.” And also if I’d magically gotten a job outside of the house and conquered my driving phobia, knowing how thrilled he’d have been about it.

Or I could’ve just not said anything at all about certain subjects, especially if I could’ve magically known up front how he’d react to some of them. But that’s not me. If I started telling every single person what they believed or what they wanted to hear, I’d quickly lose track of what lies I told which people! Really, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my own lies in that case, nor would I be being true to myself. Yet to keep my mouth shut would not only make me want to explode eventually but would also leave me feeling a bit dishonest for not speaking up. Better to not say anything than to lie, but still. If we can’t tell our friends exactly what’s on our minds, then I guess they’re not really our friends after all, are they?

Yes, I got sick of the little lies here and there like how she told me Kim rejoined Prosebox on her own. And automatically assumed BEFORE telling Aly that Aly would sometimes manage it? Somehow I doubt that. And I doubt she isn’t active on Twitter and Facebook, either.

And yes, I got sick of the guilt trips, intentional or not, because I might have wanted to stop texting when Tom came home. You know, the guy I’m married to who works 9 to 10-hour shifts that I rarely get to see? Or maybe it was because I wanted to go do some housecleaning, some laundry, writing, working out, or just plain wasn’t in the mood to swap texts at the moment, even though I always DID care.

Life may not be as fun or as interesting without friends, but a part of me is tempted to go private with my writing and just share with Tammy on Facebook because of the drama that can come from having friends and being honest with them. That way I don't have to censor and filter things as much either. I don’t want to worry anybody and abandon my remaining friends, but I have to think of myself, too. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I can say that if I do stay public, I’m going to remain FO on Prosebox for a while because I don’t want to make any new friends there. I have enough people coming at me there and I definitely don’t need additional friends and followers. I’ve built up more of a following there than I can keep up with. I wasn’t, well, supposed to get this popular. After all, I’m not a young, thin career woman with lots of sexcapades to report, ya know? I’m just a middle-aged, eccentric work-at-homer with on-and-off hormonal nightmares.

This isn’t the first time Aly and I have had a falling out. I dumped her once and then we talked it out and moved on from there, realizing there was more good than bad to each other. I’d like to think that can happen in this case, but if it doesn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be.

The only other thing Aly said in her final email that I didn’t get was that her life expectancy wasn’t that great if upping the chemo to 3x a week didn’t help or she couldn’t hold out till surgery in June. Why wouldn’t the chemo help and why wait till June for surgery if she’s that critical? I just don’t get why the doctors would have her wait that long. Well, I haven’t had any death dreams pertaining to her lately, and I know medicine has really advanced over the years, so I feel pretty confident that she’ll make it.

Either way, she’s decided I’m too honest for her and that I think things about her I don’t really think. Disease talking or not, as paranoia and depression is in fact a common side effect of cancer, I gotta move on whether I hear from her again or not.

Later…

I’m in a bit of a funk right now. The fact that I’ve managed to lose Paula, Andy and Aly in less than a year, even if I don’t entirely regret the first two, makes me wonder if I’m just an all-around horrible person. I don’t regret my honesty, but I do wonder about myself at times.

Or is this just life? I once read that 7 years from the present moment, almost all our friends won’t be our friends.

Still, I’m not going to sweat it. Right or wrong, I am who I am, I’m always going to be myself, and people can simply take me or leave me.

I can sort of understand Aly’s point, though. While I certainly didn’t mean to offend her intentionally, I have become more critical and less tolerant with age. I’m much more outspoken and unforgiving as well. Is some of it subconscious actions based on what I see so often in society? Or is it simply how I’ve evolved given my own personal experiences in life? I’m guessing it could be a mix of both.

It’s funny too, because while society preaches forgiveness in one breath, I seldom see them act upon it. I don’t want my friendship back with Paula and Andy, but what if I did? Well, I’m 90-something percent sure they wouldn’t go for that. And what about Nane? I’d consider reconnecting with her (this wasn’t just a friend), and while I apologized from the bottom of my heart for going off on her for her own judgmental ways, where is all this forgiveness people talk about? She hasn’t blocked me, but she totally ignores me. I can’t say if she’s reading my blog or not, but I haven’t heard from her on Facebook or via email in over a year. Furthermore, I’d say I have a better chance of winning thousands of dollars than ever hearing from “Agent P” again.

But hey, it was a good 8 years, life goes on, and there will always be new people to enjoy and then get into some stupid fight with, right? :)

Going grocery shopping early this morning, and well, there really isn’t a whole lot to say right now. I didn’t sleep very well, though I didn’t have any breathing issues or nightmares. I’ve been at a loss to remember my dreams lately. I’ll start to remember a faint glimmer of a dream, but before I can fully grasp it, it slips away.

Actually… there is one strange thing. Ok, one very strange thing. My mother called to me. I swear as I was about to fall asleep I heard my mother call my name twice, waking me back up instantly both times. This actually isn’t the first time she’s “called” me and my father might have as well, but I can’t say for sure.

The first time my mother called my name it sounded, IDK, distorted I guess. Like she was terrified or suffering, not that I have a problem with that after the suffering she inflicted upon me when she was alive.

But I’m a realist and a person of science. The brain does strange things, especially when we’re asleep or on our way there. If it didn’t we wouldn’t have such crazy dreams where spiders grow wings and fly while we walk around naked in public without a single person noticing.

FRIDAY, MARCH 25, 2016 Went out walking after 9pm. It was chilly as hell and the moon was huge and full. It’s the furthest I’ve ventured out on my own in many months, maybe even a year since my thyroid dose has been regulated and most of my anxiety has backed off. I just refuse to ever again be “bullied” by my own heart. Seriously, I’m trying to have the biggest I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude I possibly can so that I stop worrying about things so much. Not a reckless, careless attitude; just one that isn’t going to drive herself so crazy with worry.

Fitbit, which makes a great alarm clock, said I walked 21 minutes. I do it for my health and joints, not because I think I’ll ever lose weight. I’ve given up on that a long time ago. 1200 cals every day simply isn’t sustainable, and well, my body weighs what it feels it needs to weigh. I try to go as easy as I can on the food, but some days are easier than others. I’m getting watery again too, which makes me think the next period will be on time. But the closer I get to my period, whenever I get it, the hungrier I will get.

I feel like there are other things I could say, but just can’t think of anything other than that I slept well again, and don’t remember any dreams.

Later…

So that really is it. Aly really has dumped me. That’s what I get for being honest, but I would rather lose a few friends by being honest than gain 100 by bullshitting them. I think she thinks that I think she’s a bad person, and that’s totally not true at all. I think her buddy is a genuine asshole, but she’s just the opposite. So much so that I don’t understand why she bothers with the likes of Kim, but that’s what she didn’t like me pointing out.

I understand once again that it’s her life and she has the right to pick and choose her friends, but I can’t help but resent Kim even more for coming between us as she has in a sense. Assholes always have a way of ruining otherwise good friendships, don’t they? I realize that maybe I was blaming her a little too much for Kim’s actions. My intuition kept telling me that they BOTH rejoined Prosebox together, even though Aly says Kim did it on her own, and that she really did tell Kim about our discussion about her even though I asked her not to. Why else would she visit my blog a second time and take her shit to another site, as Aly said she did in her final email to me this morning? Either my intuition was right on, or I’m not nearly as intuitive as I give myself credit for. I really thought they joined together and I was pissed that she didn’t at least try to dissuade her from doing so thus giving her an opportunity to play victim by blocking me, which really gets to me, even if it shouldn’t. I just don’t understand why the nut job would block someone who has absolutely zero interest in them to begin with. I lost all interest in her six years ago. But as my research shows, this is classic behavior of stalkers, psychopaths and sociopaths. They will always act like they’re the ones being victimized. They are also totally incapable of feeling any empathy whatsoever. If God forbid Aly doesn’t get through leukemia, Kim’s going to just shrug and get on with her fantasy life. But I will literally be in tears no matter how much she hates me for speaking my mind.

She said I have become very judgmental and critical of her and that she can’t forgive me for what I said to her Wednesday night even though she’s usually a very forgiving person. She deleted or at least went private on my-diary, as well as on Fitbit. I also have the feeling that she didn’t get “sick” of Twitter, but that she’d slowly been pulling away from me because I’m not crazy enough for her, or as much of a texting addict as she would like.

Well, for whatever it’s worth, I don’t mean to be judgmental, critical, or cruel in any way by saying this, but she definitely has a “type” and I’m just not it. I get that. Just like some women are attracted to abusive men, Aly gravitates to the crazies for some reason. She is one of the sanest and intelligent people I know so it always struck me as odd and a bit sad, but again it’s her life. I hate to lose an otherwise great friend, but if there’s any lesson I have learned it’s not to be friends was someone who is friends with someone you can’t stand. Yeah, fuck you, Kim. Just fuck you. It may not all be your fault, but some of it is.

No sense in holding back some of the past entries I made private. I’ll backdate and share them some other time, as right now I am just too tired. The drama is just exhausting and I’ve had enough. There really does come a time when you have to wash your hands clean of it even if you don’t always want to. I’m going to get into bed now, bummed about Aly and thinking how Kim will never know just how lucky she is that she isn’t just an arm’s length away.

THURSDAY, MARCH 24, 2016 Nothing from Aly. So that’s it? We’re done. Well, that’s ok if we are. I’m ok with hearing from her, and I’m ok with not hearing from her. Both have their pros and cons. Aly definitely has a “type,” and I’m not crazy enough to be the most preferable to her. I still question just how innocent (or not) she is as far as Kim goes. She may not be able to control Kim’s actions, but she could’ve at least tried to dissuade her from rejoining Prosebox, knowing she’d only use it as a chance to block me and play Vicky Vicky on me.

I asked her not to mention our discussion to Kim, but I have a feeling she did. Kim looked in on me for a second time this morning and my guess is that it was prompted by our discussion. She probably wanted to see if I mentioned it there. So obviously the name change was pointless. She’s got my account bookmarked there.

“Crackers Fan,” which I’m guessing Aly might’ve been behind and maybe even the Lisa B account, has disappeared. One of the Ryan accounts is still there, but I don’t see any new accounts. I would still be able to see them listed even if I was blocked from them. I’ve been watching the new users come in out of curiosity.

I went all FO on Prosebox and hid myself from public view so she wouldn’t see my account from the outside in. This way, if she shows up on my tracker again, I’ll know she’s going to either Blogger or LiveJournal as well.

The vigilante offered to cross-stalk her.

Ok.

I just wonder if this will blow over soon or if Kim is going to relatch onto me and stalk me for years just like she did in 2010. She’s worse in some ways than Molly ever was. Kim may always live with family but she’s not in anyone’s custody and isn’t monitored like Molly has been since the group home got her. Kim’s older sister was checking up on her at times, but Kim still has more freedom than Molly. I still think something also happened to Molly because even though Aly says she hears from her little friends at times, I can’t believe the staff would discipline her this well for this long. Even if they did, Molly would’ve found a way around it so she could still follow Aly and I and God knows who else. When her parents kicked her offline when she was living at home, she simply went to the library to harass people from there. So something’s gotta be up with Molly.

I could complain to Marbridge if Molly ever started harassing me again, but who can I run to about Kim, who could actually become quite a nuisance if she really wanted to. I don’t think she will, though. I think that within a week or so this will all blow over. I don’t think they’re going to stick with Prosebox either. Kim’s likely to do most of her writing on sites like Blogger and WP. She may look in on my my-diary account, which I can’t verify either way, but she wouldn’t write there where she has no blocking power.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 23, 2016 After sleeping absolutely horribly I began to rethink and re-question my dentist asking me if I had sleep apnea. Yeah, do I? I woke up gasping and feeling like I wasn’t getting enough air. It took me a few hours to fall back asleep and when I did I couldn’t stay asleep. The dentist had said something about my tongue. Maybe she was saying it flopped back against the airway?

I looked up the symptoms, and sadly, I have most of them. Unlike the articles I read, though, she and Shannon said weight wasn’t a factor. I’m not obese anyway. Close, but I’m not quite there. I also don’t snore loudly. I rarely snore and when I do it isn’t very loud. The real frustration was the symptom’s similarities to perimenopause. If the peri isn’t causing the anxiety I’ve had, could it be sleep apnea?

Tom suggested her putting the idea in my head triggered my shitty sleep and while that might’ve influenced it, I’m not so sure about that. I’ve been waking up frequently for a long time now, which is one of the symptoms, and while I don’t “suffocate” in my sleep regularly, I’ve woken up feeling like I have to suck in a deep breath many times.

It mentions brain fog, anxiety, short-term memory loss, inability to lose weight, loss of libido, poor concentration, and so many other symptoms I can relate to. The scary thing is that it can lead to heart failure and strokes.

I’ve had the runs and feel like I’ve been suffocating since I got up, though, which is a common symptom of both anxiety and heart failure. Heart failure is unlikely because I’m not coughing and congested. My lungs are usually clear. I’m probably just wound up. Maybe I’ll feel better when Tom gets up. I just wish I had more energy to motivate myself to be more active. I haven’t exercised at all today, though I did about 20 minutes yesterday.

I also struggle with the non-24 sleep disorder and have the stress on me of struggling with that to make my many appointments, too. This leaves me tired and not feeling very refreshed at times. I think it’s time to mention the sleep and peri issues to Dr. A. It’s just that I don’t want to have yet MORE shit to deal with. Sometimes the best way to deal with a problem is not to deal with it, but to just pull back, take a breath, and try to quit stressing about it. Unless it worsens, of course. I still sleep better when I’m on days and when I know I’m not alone, so that helps, too. Hopefully, I will fall asleep a little earlier and sleep more solidly next time around. Maybe I’ll take a lorazepam before bed.

The waking up gasping I had written off as being fat or laying in a shitty position, but maybe it’s my pillow, too. Then I remembered my tummy-sleeping pillow and decided to try that instead of my gel memory pillow. My favorite sleeping position, unfortunately, is on my stomach and this cheap Walmart pillow keeps your neck aligned better. One of the tips said to avoid eating a lot before bed, and that sleeping on your back is best but that’s my least favorite position. I’m also going to try their recommendation of sleeping with a nose strip on as well.

During one of those rare moments of sleep, I don’t know where we were, but Tammy walked into the room with someone else. I began to run to her to cry on her shoulder about possibly having sleep apnea, but she seemed to be suffering somehow, so I bit my tongue.

Then Evie from aerobics came into the room to show me a huge picture book in which one of the pictures I supposedly took was featured. The person she was with then magically produced some old vinyl records and I told him I had nothing to play them on.

Tammy then flicked her cigarette lighter and said, “I could get those to play with my lighter.”

Then I was someplace warm. It was nighttime and I ventured outside from what seemed to be a small room in which I slept. It was very toasty warm out. Then I started to worry that when I shut the door behind me it would lock and I wouldn’t be able to get back in, but it opened ok.

Later…

Changed my u/n on Prosebox and went FO, but if Kim’s saved the link, then the name change won’t matter, unlike on Twitter where changing u/n’s means changing the link. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kim wasn’t on my-diary because she has no blocking power there. Still, I have taken the liberty of preventing her from victim-playing on every site I can without putting myself out. This means that my-diary, LiveJournal and Blogger will resume as usual, but since I’ll be sharing entries on Facebook, I won’t share Blogger links there.

Really like how Notes look these days on Facebook where we can insert pics along the tops of the notes. Wish we could put pics across the strips of posts on Blogger in a similar style. My notes will be mostly visible to just Tammy.

And no, Aly wasn’t playing with me. We exchanged texts and emails tonight, but as usual, she’s driving me crazy with her clinginess. I’m tired of her guilting me over the fact that I do have other things to do at times and can’t always just text, text, text. I’m sorry she’s suffering so horribly now (she was in the ER again) both physically and emotionally, but people really do get busy at times and they’re not just trying to brush her off. Just because I work at home, don’t drive, don’t socialize like crazy, and can’t keep a schedule doesn’t mean I still don’t have a life. I work. I clean. I learn. I have hobbies. I work out. I have a husband. I have pets. I live.

The agreement was for us to keep in touch via email (editing there is so much easier for me) since she has the psychopath to text with, but now her computer will be in the repair shop until Friday.

Anyway, I asked her not to say anything to Kim (no guarantees I’ll get my wish there), I was not only honest about my feelings about her, but about how Kim’s shit still gets to me. She said she appreciated my honesty, but couldn’t exactly thank me for it.

Seriously, this shit with Kim is beyond asinine! This is SIX years after I decided for sure that I want absolutely NOTHING to do with her on account of her lies and delusions. Yet here she is all these years later still blocking me as if I’m the one following and contacting her.

Aly said she’s afraid of me and that her older sister monitors her online activity which would explain why she hasn’t contacted me for years, but if she’s so afraid of me, why did she look in on me last night for nearly 3 minutes?

Also, Aly claims she doesn’t know my Prosebox account, but I’m not sure I buy that. Maybe she had nothing to do with blocking me and it was all on Kim. That’s what stalkers do, after all. They harass and then block the people they harass, and then they collect whatever links and info they can on them. If Aly didn’t block me herself, since they both manage the fan accounts, then Kim either looked me up (I was using my first name) or she saved the link. I don’t think, however, that Kim follows my blog regularly on my-diary where there is no tracking like she used to, or that she normally disables cookies to follow me on other sites. Just in case, though, I make a point of not publically mentioning her or Molly and giving either troll the negative attention they get off on, though my guess is neither one has looked in on me in many months, other than Kim’s peekaboo from last night. Even if they both started reading me regularly, though, I’m not going private. I have too many followers. As long as I’m not contacted, that’s what matters most.

Later…

I slept wonderfully! I really needed that, too. I slept 10 long hours with no breathing issues and very few wake-ups. I never once had to get up and pee.

On the downside, the God fantasy has found its way to our back door. Literally. As if it isn’t enough to have to listen to these annoyingly and very old stories of a “wonderful” God despite all the shit that goes on in the world!

Some asshole slipped some religious crap in between the screen and the metal grid of the back door so I can’t get it out. Just like people one day came to be smart enough to realize that allowing women on ships didn’t really bring bad luck, I hope there will come a day when people will smarten up enough to get over the God trip and quit kidding themselves with that. Really, you can indulge in these fantasies and tell yourself what you want to hear/believe, but if it’s bullshit, is it really healthy and productive anymore than for an alcoholic to tell themselves they don’t have a drinking problem? Oh, right, I’ll just stop my thyroid meds and assume there’s some magical and invisible fantasy God that will wake up my thyroid all from the goodness of His heart just because he loves the shit out of me. Oh no, He’d never let anything bad happen to me or anyone else for that matter. No, He’s not going to just sit back and watch ISIS cut people’s heads off, or innocent children be beaten to death, or for people to die of horrible diseases, right? Right?

Hey folks, reality is often scary to face. I get that. But the sooner we pull our heads out of the sand, the better off I think we’ll be. It’s one thing for children to pretend to have imaginary friends. One that considers them special and cares about them and always has their back. But adults are supposed to be smarter than that and know better!

Hearing anything God used to annoy me, but these days it just pisses me off. I’ve totally lost tolerance for this shit and I admit it. So please… keep it to yourself, will you? You have a right to these fantasies if you feel they’re going to help get you through life, but remember, I don’t, ok? I prefer chocolate, the smell of lavender, soothing music, writing, etc. These fantasies are on you and you only. :) So please spare me your gods, your angels, your fairies, your elves, your unicorns, and all your other fictitious figures.

What also pisses me off is that the park isn’t supposed to allow anyone to be soliciting this crap here, so what’s up with that? They must’ve slipped in when the gates were open. They’re open all day and nobody mans them.

TUESDAY, MARCH 22, 2016 So pissed off right now (at Kim and Aly) and so torn between the “don’t let Kim control how I live my online life” vs. the “don’t give her the satisfaction of having accounts available to block and play false victim with” attitude. Seriously, I regret and resent every psychopath I ever met through Aly! I also totally regret telling Aly about Prosebox too, cuz wherever she goes, Kim goes.

First, I’ve been finding it a bit odd that Aly’s supposedly sending both texts and emails I haven’t gotten, and that she also hasn’t gotten some I’ve sent. Now technology is always glitchy. I get that. But what if she doesn’t “need” me anymore now that Kim’s back to texting with her regularly which is her favorite thing to do in life next to reading? Aly’s a very needy person who will gravitate and focus mostly on whoever she can get the most attention from. She also clearly prefers delusional nutjobs like Kim for friends. This has always struck me as weird. Usually the crazy seeks the crazy and the intelligent seeks the intelligent. That’s the thing, though… Aly may be intelligent and sane, but she’s not always very stable or honest.

What’s got me going tonight is that Kim is once again playing the victim she never was, though I am not going to let Aly know what I know because I know it would get back to her. I also know that Kim’s needlessly blocking me (like I would even want to read/comment on Kim’s boring blogs?) shouldn’t bother me a bit. After all, it can’t hurt me. But I feel that by her knowing where my accounts are, I’m giving her a chance to play victim, even though I’m not doing that at all and am just simply going about my business. Again, I shouldn’t care, but I just hate to give her the satisfaction of blocking me whenever I can help it, so I once again deactivated on Twitter, since I’m not really interested in using that site after all. Can’t do anything about Facebook, and she’s probably blocking me every time she creates one of her silly fan accounts she’s so obsessed with on Blogger, but I’m doing what I can to prevent her from playing vicky vicky on other sites.

It started with me happening to notice the latest users at the bottom of the front page on Prosebox. I haven’t known her or Aly to use the site in a while, so I haven’t been checking. But then I got a Stafford Springs, CT hit on my tracker and ran to check the new users since she uses such obvious names. Sure enough, there were two new Ryan Hanrahan Fans accounts, one of which I was quick enough to block her on before she got a chance to block me. She (or Aly) happened to be on at the same time. I ran and looked in from my bogus account and it said, “Owned by Kim M and sometimes managed by Aly P,” so there was no doubt who it was connected to.

Lisa B Fans just showed up and I just blocked that too, even though Kim only visited me once. She made 5 page views that took nearly 3 minutes.

With all the reading I’ve done on stalkers like Kim and Molly, and others that are psychopaths or sociopaths, it’s actually very common for them to act like they’re the ones being victimized. The shitsters in Phoenix probably really truly believed deep down that they were the true victims in the case. This is classic stalker/psycho behavior.

I appreciate the fact that no trolls have tried to contact me or harass anybody I’m connected to, but there is still something about Kim blocking me that really gets to me. I can’t stress enough just how UNinterested I am in anything she writes or does online. Meaning I have no desire to follow any of her accounts, nor do I have any desire to contact her. Not that she ever would, because again, she doesn’t believe she’s done anything wrong, but even if she’s suddenly apologized to me for every shitty thing she ever did to me, her apology would go unaccepted and she would remain unforgiven and avoided. The only time I don’t avoid her is when I’m blocking one of her accounts before she can block me. I have zero contact with her otherwise, and I’m not worried about her excessive blocking and risking my accounts because the people running the sites can see that no activity from my account to hers is ever-present.

So here’s what I decided to do about it for now. I don’t want to shut down all my accounts and dump friends I’ve made online who may worry about me and who haven’t done anything wrong. Instead, I’ve chosen to simply disappear from public view for a while. This will also give me a chance to see if Aly really is playing with me or not. I sent her a message on my-diary and told her I’ve texted and emailed her, and that if she doesn’t get those or my message on my-diary, then I don’t know what else I can do. If her heart is no longer in our friendship and she would rather focus on sick fucks like Kim, that’s her prerogative but I’m not going to play any games either.

So like I said, rather than dump accounts that I worked so hard to build up over the years and punish innocent people, I’m going to stop using my-diary for now, go private on LiveJournal, create a new book that’s FO on Prosebox, and stop using my public Blogger blog. I’ll use my private one there. I thought of embedding Tammy's email so that they would auto-send to her, but I think I’ll just share those on Facebook for either her or friends. Most will be for just her. I’ll email some, too.

To the best of my knowledge, the only activity Aly should be able to see until I decide how to proceed from here is on Fitbit. I can create private boards on Pinterest just in case she thinks to look for me there. She’s not into pic collecting, but she knows of my account there. Until I find out for sure what’s going on with her, let HER do some wondering of her own and wonder what the hell’s going on with me. This is just a temporary setup, though. I’m not going to abandon my blogs and journals just for one delusional psycho who loves to play victim.

Aly deactivated on Twitter saying she has no use for the site either, but my guess is she’s created an account that is connected to one of Kim’s many dozens of accounts. Only difference is that Aly’s smart enough not to make the name so obvious. Well, Aly has a right to do what she wants online that she doesn’t want me knowing about, but if I do catch her any more lies, or she continues to be the only one that I happen to have issues sending and receiving texts and emails with, I’m not going to literally dump her but she can count on not hearing as much from me if that’s the case.

Later…

Lisa B may not be connected to Kim or Aly. I left some less-than-kind comments from my bogus account and that account was immediately blocked Kim-style. The fact that that account wasn’t blocked by Lisa B, makes me doubt the connection. The writer said it was their first fan account because “someone else was doing it,” and while the writing was Aly good, it mentions things that seem very un-Aly, and appears to be in the South. Aly doesn’t drive a Honda Civic nor did she ever eat at Subway every day.

Unless it’s an attempt to see if my bogus account comments. Maybe she’s testing that account to see if it’s connected to me. I better leave a comment then. If I don’t she may wonder why I only commented on the “obvious” account.

The only other thing that points away from Aly is the time. She usually crashes around midnight her time while Kim is up really late.

I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist finally replying to Andy's message last night about my journals not making sense to him with, “No surprise there. Not much ever made sense to you. Now try figuring out…” I listed the months of blogs he hasn’t gotten yet that I also sent him last night. I just had a bored moment and found the idea amusing.

Same with “laughing” at Nane. Yeah, now that they have reactions there I laughed at a post of hers on some musician’s page about a delay in the release of an album she’s been wanting, even though she posted it about a year ago.

MONDAY, MARCH 21, 2016 “Looks like a surprise win,” said Tom, as he entered the house with the day’s mail.

Yes, every now and then a surprise win will show up without warning. No emails, no phone calls, no letters.

So I took the small box from him and found I’d won a pricey facial serum, some samples, some bath beads, and a really nice cosmetic bag.

If it weren’t for that and the one dream I remember having, I wouldn’t be doing an entry today since nothing else is going on at the moment.

I dreamed we had to temporarily move back into our old Phoenix house, though I don’t know why. I just know that neither of us was happy about it. I asked Tom, who was lying in bed, how long he thought we’d be there and he said, “About a month, if I can help it.”

I then told him I put the dish towel (after doing dishes since the house had no dishwasher) on the counter, implying that I couldn’t fit it through the narrow cabinet handles from which to hang it. I also told him that within reason, of course, he could be as messy as he wanted since we weren’t staying there for good.

Then I wandered through the house, thinking I’d take pictures to post online with old ones, comparing how it looked now as opposed to when we last lived there in 1999.

SUNDAY, MARCH 20, 2016 Andy replied to the last entry I sent him before I got fed up and threw in the towel. He said most of what I said made no sense.

Yeah, I know. He didn’t usually get things very easily, but as they say, we can explain something to someone but we can’t make them get it. Seriously sometimes we just can’t make someone get something no matter how we present it to them. It’s like trying to convince a die-hard believer that no, there is no God.

WTF, though? He’s blocked me on Facebook but now wants to do email? I didn’t realize it was recently sent when I clicked on it. I’d just gotten up and thought my mail program was screwed up again, sending me long-since read and deleted messages. It was nice to hear from him, but at the same time, nothing has changed. No hard feelings toward him, but I believe what I believe and he believes what he believes. Nothing’s going to change that and I accept that. Wonder if his email was prompted by my started to store dreams/pics last night on Ask, though, or if the timing is just coincidental? Either way, I don’t care what accounts of mine he looks in on, but I’m still never going to be a carbon copy of who he is and he’s still not going to get 80% of the things I say.

Later…

I try to be as fair and as honest as I can by being myself but also by being as open-minded as possible and looking at things as objectively as possible, too. So this brings me to ask myself this: Am I judging blacks too harshly? Hmm… well, human nature dictates that if a woman is raped she’s likely to judge men harshly as one is to judge gays harshly if a gay person happens to screw them over.

So would my take on blacks differ had I not been legally screwed by them? That’s really hard to say. I mean, no Muslim has ever directly burned me in any way, yet I could sit here and say a lot meaner things about those animalistic shitsters that no one wants to hear, including Norma, who insists blacks are widely hated in the South.

But that’s the thing… as long as your words don’t fall within popular opinion; no one wants to hear it. You’re racist, you’re evil, and flat-out “ignorant” and “misinformed” as far as most people are concerned. It’s a shame that we only have a right to our opinion when it conforms to popular belief, but my feelings are my feelings and I stand by them as I would with any other aspect of myself.

I don’t think anyone selectively chooses what they feel and believe about things like racism, God or religion but that their feelings and beliefs are formed based on their own personal experiences in life.

I believe most blacks are assholes because of the way they behave. I believe there is likely no God because of all the suffering that goes on in the world. I believe religion is pointless because no two people are alike.

You can’t lump everyone together. In this country, you’re a “better” and “correct” and “normal” woman these days if you work your ass off and skip motherhood. Well, that lifestyle may be becoming more preferred by many women, but why should every single woman be expected to live that way? Why can’t each individual woman do what she feels is best for herself? If everyone stops breeding humans will become extinct, not that they should breed like rabbits, and not that extinction may not be a good thing in many ways with all the shit that goes on in the world.

But the point of this entry was to have a “heart to heart” with myself and ask myself…would my views on blacks be any different if I hadn’t been race-carded by them? Probably not.

And I have EVERY right to think, feel and believe as I do same as anyone else does. Yet even though I’m not obligated to take responsibility for people’s often fragile and sensitive feelings, I’ll keep this entry amongst those I’m closest to.

I’m also having fun posting my more “controversial” entries on Prosebox from my bogus account and watching people’s reactions. Surprisingly, I didn’t get bashed like I expected to (yet), but one member who didn’t have the guts to tell “Angel Eyes” off directly ranted in her own journal about how she unfollowed her for being such a horrible, evil racist. LOL

Later…

My Twitter excitement wore off of me rather quickly. It’s just too much work and confusion to set up 4 accounts to log things I can easily log in Word or in blogs/books/journals. More than likely I won’t bother with Twitter much but I am backing up dreams and pics to one of my old Ask accounts.

Woke up with my tooth and gums aching and had to take Ibuprofen. I think it’s starting to get better but it still has a ways to go.

It was very quiet today but that's only because it rained. As soon as it warms back up, it's landscaping/projects by day, car stereos by night. So both the shitty weather and the nice weather have its pros and cons.

I’m kind of in a lazy mood tonight. I should hit the Bowflex, hit the treadmill, work on my story… do something, but I just want to read and color.

Tom and I vacationed in Hawaii in my dreams last night. There was only one negative part of the dream where I was off by myself and was approached by a suspicious couple. Not sure what they were trying to accomplish, but instinct told me they were less than honest, and I was glad they didn’t know our room number.

On our final night there I thought of how it was the perfect length of time for a vacation, not too long, not too short. I packed up what seemed like a million pairs of shoes, then decided to do the rest of the packing in the morning before we left, since I wasn’t going to get 8 hours of sleep.

I went into the bathroom and it took me a moment to find the toothpaste. Then I accidentally dropped the cap down the drain and was glad Tom thought to take a couple of nearly empty tubes so we could squeeze out any leftovers from it in the morning.

SATURDAY, MARCH 19, 2016 Let me rant and vent about the neighborhood noise before I get into my grand Twitter plans. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear it was a weekday today! I still can’t believe the amount of shit we hear here. Projects, landscaping, traffic… there’s something nearly every single day.

Today’s annoyance was them putting gravel and a scattering of small plants on the new people’s lot. I figured they wouldn’t leave it bare, but it’s the best I could hope for because it should generate less upkeep racket this way. Had they had grass laid down, that’d be different. The people next to them were mowing their grass.

The thing that keeps me from going from agnostic to total atheist is because coincidentally, this shit waited till I got up to start and took over 4 hours to complete. Because these things happen to happen when I’m around and awake, it still makes me think the same noise curse that was put on me in the 90s is still following me around. It’s gotta be aimed at me, because Tom said it was quiet until I got up, and this isn’t the first time it happened to turn out like that. I’d be willing to bet just about anything that it was nice and quiet while we were away.

The warmer weather definitely has its pros and cons just like the colder weather. I love the warm weather and I love wearing shorts and summer clothes, but it’s not as good for sleeping or exercising. People are noisier in the daytime, and car stereos can be heard booming down the freeway at night.

I moved our little 2-seater round kitchen table into our very large master bedroom so I could work in there when I’m on days since sounds reverberate through our cavernous living room a lot easier than they do back in the bedroom. In fact, I’m hearing the distant thump of bass as I write this that couldn’t be heard in there. Through the warmer weather, I may work in there day and night. It’s terrible. Just terrible. Really wish we weren’t so close to the edge of the park. Not sure if it’s one vehicle that’s parked nearby or a ton of different ones blazing down the freeway, but by the time these ferociously loud things were still legal in 2005, I knew they always would be.

We will eventually get a new 4-seater living room set as we’ve needed to do but haven’t considered a top priority. It still isn’t, especially since we eat at our computers and don’t entertain or anything like that. Plus, we have tons of counter space with stools to sit on.

We walked/ran a little over 2 miles and this time it only took 27 minutes as I get fitter and faster.

My Twitter plans… I was entering an Amazon instant sweep when I accidentally woke my account back up that I had deactivated because I had to follow someone in order to play the game. I refuse to promote people by retweeting and other things like that, but I don’t mind following sweeps or their sponsors on Twitter because I don’t have to see their tweets. In fact, I don’t have to see anyone’s tweets there because now that Aly and I got sick of using Twitter for tweeting life and our everyday thoughts, there’s nothing to see. She was the only one I was really following there. But rather than deactivate again, I thought I would use that account as a reading list and tweet whatever book I’m currently reading.

I used one of those free sites that deletes tons of old tweets, but they only deleted about half of them. So I still have a few thousand to manually delete a little at a time.

I also thought I’d create a few other Twitter accounts. One for tweeting my wins, one for my collectibles, and one for the main highlights of my life, though those last two will be private. The question is what I should consider a “highlight.” Obviously buying a house isn’t something we do every day, but neither is buying a new living room set. Yet I’m not sure buying a new living room set is considered a main event.

I’m also using one of my old Ask accounts to back up both dreams and pics.

Had a dream I was at the beach with my sister and nieces. Unfortunately, our parents were alive, though, and had a summer cottage again. Not sure what state we were in, but at one point I was in the water myself. It was very calm and clear. I stuck my face in the water, opened my eyes and peered down at the ocean floor about 6 feet below me. I saw the heads of dead cows, bulls, and even some snakes.

I got out of the water and sprawled out on the beach. Then I realized I was getting too much sun for my pale, sensitive skin, and then I got up and sort of “fell” into a very small circular pond with water so murky you couldn’t see half an inch through it. Afraid of what creatures may be present in it, I quickly scrambled out and into the cottage.

Tammy handed me a hot pink pen and said, “Here. Mom found your favorite writing pen that you lost under the rug.”

I took the pen and looked down at the rug on the porch floor and noticed another pen just under the edge of it.

I explained to Aly how I was sending Alyssa chapters of the story I threw her in just for shits and giggles, and how she prevented me from sending additional friend requests because I sent more than one, thinking my first one might not have made it to her. I just wanted Aly's opinion and for her to tell me if she thought she hadn’t received them at all, hadn’t noticed them in her “other” box, has noticed them but chose to ignore them completely, or if she’s noticing and reading them.

Because she prevented me from sending additional friend requests, Aly suspects that she hasn’t noticed them sitting in her “other” box.

This would be my guess as well. Although… wouldn’t someone as smart as a doctor notice the number count rising in her “recent request” section which is where the “other” box is? But if she’s seen them then why hasn’t she blocked me? Sheer curiosity about the story?

Damn Facebook for making it so hard to contact people! First they don’t allow messages to go through in the first place, and now they have to go to a place where most people don’t even think to look for them. What’s the point then? I’d rather be blocked and know that someone at least got my message than wonder if they got them or if they’ve noticed them if they did. Because of that, I’m not going to bother sending additional chapters. Kinda funny, though, to imagine her finally noticing it in 10 years or so and being like, WTF? LOL, Would she then wish she could read the rest of the story?

On Facebook was yet another report of a black attacking a white at a Trump rally. So sad that so many blacks still think violence is the way to get ahead in life despite the fact that 95% or more of the population has long since accepted them. Some things really never do change. I'll bet this guy will barely get a slap on the wrist, but if he were white he'd go down hard for a hate crime. Really, if this guy was so anti-Trump (as most of us are, myself included) then why did he bother to go to his rally? Isn't that like going to a concert to see a band you don't like? It's like he was looking for trouble. Really, these people sometimes ASK for what they get and they MAKE haters out of some people.

I totally understand having a bleeding heart for the blacks that were once slaves and truly shit on constantly, but I don’t get why anyone has any sympathy these days for them with the way so many of them are acting out, looting, killing, playing the race card, gang banging, and ruining so many lives. I’m sick of hearing all the shit they pull and so many people having this senseless and unfounded sympathy for them. The few that are as fed up with them as I am it’s because THEY made us this way. Yet almost everyone just loves them. What will be the next “politically correct” thing, to praise and make excuses for rapists and child molesters?

A white blogger was saying she was sick of hearing how “privileged” she is as she had to work 3 jobs to make ends meet and is sick of hearing how “easy” it is to be white. I don’t blame her at all!

There was a case of a few white chicks getting kicked off a plane for fighting without being arrested at all. Sure enough, a black guy automatically cried, “White privilege!”

Wrong! It’s people not thinking violence is any big deal and a country with twisted laws. Same thing would’ve happened had the chicks been black as midnight. But they see only what they want to see and not the facts.

Just had to vent. Man, I am so, so fucking sick of their shit, their whining, their false accusations, their everything! Nothing is ever good enough for them. How I wish we could go back to segregation at times.

I wonder how many more years or decades it will be before whites finally get fed up enough to start attacking them, but I can ask the same thing about why we haven’t attacked all the Muzzies. Really why don’t we? Why don’t we make the world a safer place to live? They say two wrongs don’t make a right, but maybe sometimes it’s the only way to put people in their proper place and get them to do the right thing. As I learned long ago, the more we take shit, the more shit we’re going to get. So isn’t it time to stop making excuses for these “poor oppressed” people who technically have more rights than we ever had?

I may be disgusted with society and its laws in general, but I never would’ve thought I’d come to have so much hatred for these people. Again, though, I’m only what they themselves have made me. I’m in the 5% or less that hasn’t an ounce of pity for you. I ain’t doing the “black love” thing and joining in the sympathy campaign when YOU’RE the ones antagonizing us. Certain individuals that are kind to me and have never given me a reason to dislike them, sure. But as a whole, they can go fuck themselves.

Facebook needs to get a keyword filter so those of us sick of hearing about racism and other shit can filter/block that cow crap out.

FRIDAY, MARCH 18, 2016 Finally winding down after what’s been a busy – and highly annoyingly noisy – day with gorgeous weather. I aired the place out a bit. It was truly beautiful, but with the nicer weather comes more car stereos that can be heard at night, risk of hot flashes waking me up, and more activity in the park. The guy on the other corner is being thoroughly obnoxious again that I’m contemplating whether or not to complain to the office or maybe email Joy. Hammering and making other loud sounds every so often is fine, but this little cock’s been at it again regularly and it’s getting old. Had to listen to it today for over 6 hours. What is it with all these seemingly needless repairs he does on his place anyway? The house is utterly gorgeous and in great condition from what I can see. What more does it need done to it?

If only he could be doing all this shit in preparation to sell it so I don’t have to listen to his shit anymore, but the guy appears to be in his 50s or 60s. In an adult community that’s not the age you usually sell out at.

I’m just afraid the office won’t be much help quieting him down. Technically, one has the right to make all the noise they want if it’s during the daytime. I just wish he’d give me the same courtesy I give people around here. Unless it’s necessary landscaping, we don’t make people listen to our shit. Bastard should at least shut the garage door when hammering. You know… common sense, common courtesy?

Anyway, there was a lot of noise in the park today. Not just from him. People were on their roofs, people were landscaping, people were gardening, people were out and about doing pretty much everything and anything. Until the heat rolls in in a few months, this is how it’s going to be, although we are in for another cool and wet spell on Sunday and Monday.

Been reading Once Gone by Blake Peirce. It’s a good murder mystery. Now that it’s dark and quiet, I think I just might do a little work on my own story.

Was going to go out walking this evening, but nah. I did a half-hour on the Bowflex and we did a quick bike ride today and yesterday down to the lake. Just a quick one to get our muscles back in shape for that kind of exercise.

My jaw and gums still ache and sting a bit, but I haven’t needed any ibuprofen today. Tammy sure can’t seem to catch a break, though. Now she’s got to have nerves cut along her spine, and well, that’s going to take longer to recover from than when they cut leg nerves. :(

THURSDAY, MARCH 17, 2016 Kind of hurts that I’m quick to follow up with Tammy after she’s had a procedure done and even wish her good luck on the day it’s to be done, and what do I get about the dentist? Not a single word.

Although it’s been quiet here so far today, I sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed. My jaw is sore, Skype’s not working right, and the water’s been off since I got up at noon. I’m sick of these water games we have to play every 2-3 weeks cuz the park’s too lazy to replace all the old pipes at once!

Anyway, I tried to pull my ass out of bed earlier, but yesterday really left me exhausted. Plus, I woke up hot flashing at 5am. No racy heart, just very hot. Had to turn the fan on and of course I was cold later on and had to get up again to turn it off.

Last night I dreamed we moved into a large 2-story house with others like it around us. We were on a corner. The neighborhood sort of reminded me of the second house my parents had in Longmeadow, MA. Only one night the rental next door was being moved into after sitting empty for a while. Naturally, I worried about what we may be in for given our shit luck with neighbors in the past.

I sat in our darkened living room and looked at the house across from us. It too, was a rental, but was also a duplex of some kind. I watched as a bunch of 20-somethings, most of whom were dressed very suggestively, danced around to loud music as they drank like fishes. Both front doors were open and I could see people milling about in the foyer and going up and down the stairs on both sides.

“We always get surrounded by the damn rentals,” I said to Tom in a frustrated tone.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 16, 2016 Whew! My dentist appointment is over and my temporary crown is now in place. It seemed to take forever, but being in the hands of such a kind, caring staff really helps.

It’s a big procedure and I was there for a couple of hours. So much is involved as opposed to pulling teeth where they just numb you and pull the tooth. They have to take molds, grind the tooth, and much more. She used Novocain without epinephrine so I wouldn’t get jittery or have a racy heart. The only negative to this kind of Novocain is that one shot isn’t enough because it’s so fast-acting. I would still rather have to have them shoot me a few times during the procedure than give me anything just once with epinephrine in it.

Shannon said she’d give me just half a Valium cuz I’m little. They had 10mg tablets, so this way it was just 5mg for me. I was shaky at first, then became wonderfully drowsy and relaxed even if I still hate that damn drill, haha. It wasn’t as loud as I remembered it to be, but it’s still one of my least favorite tools of theirs. Also, it’s my #2 tooth, which is one of the hardest to reach.

The dentist wondered if I snored or had sleep apnea. Something about the way my tongue flopped back, I guess, but nope. I only snore a little bit at times, according to Tom.

I was sure to update her on my wins, which she always enjoys hearing about, LOL.

Shannon has a good memory (I haven’t seen her in 2 years because part of the time she was on maternity leave). She asked about the rats. Didn’t have Hoodie and Cappy last time I saw her. That would have been Romeo and Sugar, and I explained that they have short lifespans.

She also wondered where my glitter was. I didn’t have my glitter eyeshadow on, but I did have a touch of pink glitter mascara. :)

I gave them the two citrus-scented oils I didn’t care for and both the dentist and Kathleen really appreciated it.

After they were done with me Shannon guided me to the bathroom, since the Valium made me so drowsy. I didn’t see the doctor again cuz she was with someone else, but as I was leaving I said goodbye to Shannon and Kathleen. As I was doing so I said, “It’s a good thing we ladies get to sit down when we pee,” and they laughed their asses off at that one. So true, though! I wasn’t exactly steady on my feet. The stuff wore off pretty fast, though. Fast enough to stop for a bite to eat on the way home, but not enough to work out with. I’ll take my 4K steps around the park tomorrow, or maybe ride my bike since the weather’s nicer.

I have to return in 3 weeks for the permanent crown. For now, my gums are going to be sore and I’m going to have some stinging for a week or so, so I’m armed with ibuprofen and salt water to gargle a couple of times a day.

Kathleen said they like it when I see them. Of course they do. I give free things that cost a fortune, LOL.

Last night’s dreams weren’t very good. It was nice that my friend Kim visited, but the “dream people” sure do love to throw me in jail an awful lot. I had no idea what I was charged with or how long I’d be there either. I was alone in a room that wasn’t small or big as I picked away at the too much food they gave me that I had absolutely no appetite for. I was depressed, and I guess I was on probation for something else at the time because I thought of how Tom would have to notify my PO that I was in jail. I tried to console myself by telling myself that at least my probation time would probably be up by the time I got released, but then I fell into an even deeper depression when I realized that I would probably have yet more probation on account of whatever I was currently in for.

I then kind of stumbled into an office of sorts sobbing hysterically. The woman at the desk, who I first thought was a nurse of some kind, looked up at me and then called for someone else. I realized I’d probably scared her and felt bad for her.

A few staff members entered the room next and I told them I suddenly felt very warm. One of them felt my forehead and determined that I had a fever, so I was put in bed for a while in the infirmary.

Then I was sitting at a long table with other inmates. The daily mail was passed out and I was handed a letter from Kim. Enclosed with her letter was some jewelry. I was surprised the staff hadn’t confiscated it. I commented to one of the officers on how beautiful the jewelry was. She just gave a slight nod of agreement but didn’t reach to confiscate it.

TUESDAY, MARCH 15, 2016 OMG! For the first time since I started playing around with the good doc (Alyssa), my message appears as “seen” by her. I figured she was getting them since no one’s complained about Facebook not delivering messages in a while, but was unsure if she was actually reading them. I was thinking they were probably going to her “other” box and she wasn’t noticing them. I wonder, though, is this the first message she’s actually read? Or is this just the first message that’s appeared as read? No sign of her checking out my blog, though.

I’ve been having fun sending her a few chapters at a time of the story I threw her in just for kicks, knowing I’ll never hear from her or see her again anyway. Once she denied my friend request, I knew then and there that she wasn’t interested in any kind of friendship. You know how it is for me anyway… no hotties are meant to be, even if they’re only friends unless they live in another state or country.

What I don’t get, though, is why she hasn’t blocked me. She’s prevented me from sending additional friend requests (I sent more than one in case she didn’t get the first one), hasn’t replied to any of my messages, but hasn’t blocked me? Could she be curious about the story? I’ve sent about 6 chapters so far out of 16. Or could she be hoping to “get” me somehow? She certainly doesn’t seem the vindictive type like Maliheh was so I don’t know what to think.

Tammy's doctor’s appointment didn’t go off very well yesterday. She’s in pain, allergic to whatever her doctor used on her, and then learned she won’t be able to have a total knee replacement on her other knee. She said they think it could further complicate her health.

sighs sadly I feel so bad for her. I don’t expect everyone I know to be all fluff and sunshine every single day, but I wish they weren’t so miserable so often. Life is one big struggle, though, like it or not. That’s why I’m enjoying these better days; because I know that sooner or later all good things really do come to an end. But nothing stays the same forever. Not even the bad times. They didn’t for me and they won’t for her.

Went out walking for 36 minutes yesterday and burned 228 calories while my HR averaged 126. I did some running along with walking, too. I was amazed that Tom could keep up with me, LOL.

Spicy black raspberry hot chocolate sucks. I’ve also learned that hot chocolate of any kind is a Keurig jammer, so I’ve got to clean it with the silicone thingy and run a few ounces of hot water through it afterward.

I love to sample variety packs, but there are a few I don’t care for. Not impressed with the pineapple coconut water you brew over ice either.

Still loving my new diffuser. It’s way easier to clean than the wax warmers, despite the lack of variety in fragrances. Out of the 20 scents I got, I don’t care for the citronella or the lemongrass, so I’ll give those to – Kathleen? Katherine? – at the dentist’s office tomorrow.

I definitely like the Emori’s I ordered on Amazon as opposed to the one I got at Walmart. They’re smaller bottles, but since you only need a few drops, they should last a long time.

Anyway, tomorrow is when I get the temporary crown put on my tooth, and of course my stomach is doing a little flip-flop just thinking about it. Even though I’ve had it done before and I know it can’t hurt me, I’m definitely not looking forward to it or that deafening, maddening drill. The dentist is aware of my anxiety issues due to the health problems I’ve had so she already knows to make sure there’s no epinephrine in the Novocain and to chill pill me as well.

Later…

Ok, this has got to be a glitch, so no, Alyssa probably hasn’t seen my messages. She more than likely doesn’t know they’re there or simply ignores them. Both my last two messages appear to have been read the same minute I sent them. No way. Unless she just happened to be sitting there when I sent them… I mean, what are the odds of that? Will send one in the middle of the night sometime and see what happens then.

Went to check Tammy's message and not only does my last message to her say it was read the minute I sent it, but now Nane's last message appears as read when I sent it months ago. No wonder. I knew the doctor wouldn’t just take a sudden interest in me. Like I said, though, I’ll send a message in the middle of the night as soon as I’m able to do so and see what happens with that.

MONDAY, MARCH 14, 2016 “I never watch, but I always learn.”

That was what someone told me last night in Dreamland.

We’ve made an average of 11 orders a month on Amazon in the last 6 months, much of it being vitamins, coffee, and necessary household items. Either way, you would think we’d get better service for all our orders, but nope. Lately, they’re failing to deliver things on time and yesterday’s bullshit excuse to deliver my aroma oil diffuser, oils and coffee was that they “attempted to deliver it but was unable to.” What they really meant was, “We didn’t want to go out in the pouring rain.”

I’m sure they pulled “failed delivery attempt” on several people so they didn’t have to make as many stops. It was delivered today, though, and we’ve been given an extra month of AP for free. I love it, too! The color-changing lights are awesome and it’s very easy to use. The frosted cover helps soften the light so it’s soothing instead of harsh and irritating. Should run for about 3 hours, then turn itself off when it’s out of water. I’ve got patchouli going now. Walmart’s version of that fragrance smells a bit weird, but it’s still nice. Ylang-ylang is up next!

We made another order last night. Tom’s getting a new lunch bag for work that’ll allow him to take cold foods so he has more variety for lunch and breaks.

I treated myself to Linda’s Lollies, 24 different flavored lollipops that are only 90 calories and should last a long time. This way I can be eating without really eating and hopefully go a little longer before I actually do eat. Just not longer than 3-4 hours or else I may get dizzy. Root beer float is the only flavor I won’t want, so Tom can have that one.

I also got a Texan bull and a seal on the way.

I grabbed a mocha latte lollipop at Michael’s yesterday, but it tasted like very weak chocolate. I also got a mini journal, a bracelet with clear stones that are super shiny, a mini coloring book that’d be great for traveling, and a couple more animal figures. A decked-out fairy horse, as they call it, and a Jack Russell terrier. Lastly, I got some floral tissue paper that isn’t exactly for noses. The way it was packaged made me think it was, but it’s a bit thick and stiff for that so I’m using them as drink coasters.

I wish every day could be like yesterday. I felt great both physically and mentally and got out and did some fun shopping, even if they were just little things. I don’t need big things to keep me happy. Sometimes it really is those little things that make life fun. Today I feel just fine too, and have been very productive. Got a lot of cleaning done. Tom and I are going to go out walking around the park when he gets home in about an hour.

Today’s weather is a stark contrast to yesterday, and of course they’re right back to their landscaping and other projects around here. Those two white pickups are still going to the corner house working on the water damage (I think) and I wonder how many more weeks they’ll be at it. At least they’re not sawing and working outside like they were. They’re working indoors now, so all I hear is some door slamming. One of them loves to park alongside our carport.

I’m surprised the new people haven’t replaced the plants they had removed. The lady there was cleaning out the garage on Saturday and I have yet to see a man in the picture. Hopefully, that means the garage won’t be used at my expense.

Another thing that keeps life interesting is those little wins. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I win big again, but those little wins like the one-year pass to Pandora One that I won always put a smile on my face. I guess this way it’s ad-free and hopefully, I’ll get unlimited song skipping, too.

SUNDAY, MARCH 13, 2016 It’s been raining and windy all night long, but sure enough, the rain is to clear up tomorrow morning and it’ll be bright and sunny all week with temperatures warming into the 70s and noise levels no doubt rising to very annoying proportions.

Decided to get my hair trimmed later on today.

Last night I dreamed I was at some sort of beach resort and was sharing a longish room with double beds with my sister. At least I think it was with her. For some strange reason, my long white dresser was there and I watched someone haul it out of the room and onto the beach, knowing they needed extra “beds” and that someone would sleep on it.

Out on the beach a short while later, I found my dresser set up with the shelves it came with but that I never got. On the very top was a mattress. I spoke to the guy that was to sleep on it and he promised not to damage anything.

Then I was back in the room in a flash where Andy showed up and hugged the hell out of me. It felt good to be hugged by him and to hug him back. I told him that even though he could be an ass at times and I knew I wasn’t perfect either, I still loved him.

A part of me considered reaching out to him in real life, but eh, we’re just too different. We’d only get in some stupid fight over some stupid shit in no time at all.

In the last part of the dream, I was descending a flight of stairs somewhere and could hear water running nearby. My dream self knew Tom was in the shower.

Later…

So Aly emailed me to say she was deactivating on Twitter, and it was kind of funny because I was considering the exact same thing at the moment. Since I don’t know anyone well enough who’s into Twitter regularly, I decided to just shut down and keep note of the highlights in Word. I don’t mean my journal where I write the details, but a file just for the things that stand out.

That wasn’t the only reason I wanted to deactivate. I also wanted to do so to shake Kim. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but the thought of her playing the victim and blocking me from the many accounts she creates still gets to me at times. I feel like I’m letting her play victim, in a sense, by keeping accounts known to her. Facebook I can’t do much about, though. Also, if she one day decides to return to Prosebox if she hasn’t already, she’s going to block me there too, on every account she creates.

This nutjob creates hundreds of accounts, each for some celebrity or another that she’s obsessed with. Weather and celebrities. Those are her obsessions as it was food and celebrities with Andy. At over 300 pounds, though, I’m sure it’s safe to say this one’s a little food-obsessed, too. She’s admitted to being a foodie, and according to Aly, fat doesn’t exist in her twisted mind. Hey, if right and wrong and fact and fiction are all the same, why not body sizes, too? Nothing exists but what isn’t real in her sick mind.

I realize that my nieces are never going to want to interact with me all that often. I thought maybe seeing them face-to-face would change that a bit, but I don’t think anything could really make a difference at this point, and I can’t say I blame them either. I wasn’t there for them for a decade, and well, I’m twice their age and on the other side of the country.

So even though I followed them on Pinterest, they haven’t followed back or “liked” any of my pins. Still don’t hear from them much on Facebook either unless it’s in response to a comment I may make on something of theirs.

shrugs Oh well. We can’t make people be what/who they’re not.

Got my hair trimmed today by an older lady I remembered from my first visit to this particular salon last May. Yes, it’s been 10 months since my hair last saw a pair of scissors. No wonder it got so ratty. I thought it was last November for some reason. Again, my memory is scary-bad at times. Definitely not what it used to be.

Anyway, I didn’t request that she wash my hair first. She simply misted it down with a water bottle.

I also got this expensive, but awesome Paul Mitchell smoothing leave-in conditioner that smells really nice. I love the light oily texture and how you massage it into the hair rather than spray it in. With sprays, I always get it in my face. It’s a perfectly clear-colored gel-like substance that costs $28 but should last a year.

SATURDAY, MARCH 12, 2016 Just sitting here waiting for the early morning hammering to start. Between 7-8:30, I hear a minute or two of hammering, but can’t figure out for the life of me where it’s coming from. I even heard it during yesterday’s rain. My first thought was that it was coming from Bob’s garage, but the door was closed and I couldn’t see any light coming from the window (the light would have been too dim to be working on anything without turning the garage lights on).

Could’ve come from the new people’s garage, but I think I might’ve heard this before they moved in. So… it’s probably Bob. He’s the only one who would do that that often and that early in the morning. He may be a nice guy in most ways, but I still don’t think he cares who he annoys with his 10 million projects. I’m just glad it doesn’t go on and on for hours. Sooner or later, though, the weather’s going to warm up, the garage door is going to be open most of the time, and the hammering and sawing are going to escalate.

I’m also sick of people parking on our corner just outside our carport. It kind of defeats the point of having a corner lot, something I definitely don’t want again if we ever do move.

A truck with the company name Altec was at the new people’s house yesterday and I’m thinking, even in the pouring rain the projects must go on? But they were only there for a few minutes. I ran their name online and found them to be a local communications company of some kind.

Last night I dreamed I was in Andy's place after he’d moved out of it to wherever. In reality, he’s got flooring over a concrete foundation, but in the dream he had carpet removed from a hardwood floor that had water damage. I could see the dark spots from where the wood had been damaged the most. The planks weren’t long and skinny, though, but more like a foot long by half a foot wide.

Leftover pictures from his celebrity obsession were lying around the place and I thought it sad that he’d never matured enough to realize that celebrities are just people, too. I also found it sad that he was so lonely and miserable that he was so negative on account of it. Then that sadness was replaced with a touch of anger when I remembered how arrogant he could be, his cruel taunts, and the things he refused to take my word for. He was never a true friend, I realized yet again, but remembered the good times and wished him good health and happiness in my mind.

FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 2016 Holly cleaned my teeth and the dentist confirmed a cavity in my back right upper molar. In fact, it’s so big it needs to be crowned… ugh. Fortunately, our dental plan covers 80%, so between that and the time-release fluoride varnish that was put on my teeth, it only came to around $200.

The dentist got a kick out of my latest wins since I started sweeping again. She loves those winning updates.

The new office assistant sold me on one of those ultrasonic essential oil diffusers. She had peppermint oil in the one she had running on her desk. You just add water to it and a stream of scented mist puffs up. The one I ordered has a color-changing LED light in it. It seems like it may do as good a job as incense does of smelling the place up because it continually puts the scent out into the room. Only this shouldn’t leave the messy residue that smoke can leave. With the wax warmers, the scent isn’t “moving,” and after I first change the wax cubes, I no longer really notice the smell. This thing might be easier to clean than the warmers, too. So I ordered a $20 diffuser and a set of 20 oils.

Last night I dreamed we lived somewhere with a huge and long room running alongside the place. It had giant glass windows along the exterior wall, and as I walked down the room I saw Tom scrubbing one of the windows. He grinned at me excitedly, as if he’d just discovered the joy of wiping down windows. A huge fan with fat blades was hanging above by the window.

Then we were on a ship where many people were dressed in costumes with a Christmas theme. One of them tumbled down a ramp and into the water. This seemed to be a fun game for some of them which I assumed were able to get right back onto the ship.

In another dream, I was helping Bob with some kind of project, though I don’t know what, and was both inside and outside his house. Virginia was out somewhere. I passed Jim on the way back to our place.

THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 2016 Slept better last night and feel better today in that I’m less blah. Still flowing heavily, though.

I got the Springfield doll (Alexis) that I won yesterday, and yes, it was just one doll and not the whole set. I figured as much. She’s cute for a freebie.

Got a dentist's appointment at noon today. This is just a checkup and a cleaning. Really hope it’s not Holly. She never shuts up.

Can’t remember much in the way of dreams other than a quick one where Sarah was styling someone’s hair for some kind of event we were to attend that evening. The person seemed young and to have very long hair.

I was in heels but dressed casually. I complimented the way she did the person’s hair and said that I should probably get dressed and get my makeup on since it was getting late. Sarah nodded and I ran off to wherever I was staying, heels slapping on the concrete along the way.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 9, 2016 You know that perimenopause thing I’ve been going through? Well, today I’ve definitely got more peri than pause. Both my flow and cramps picked up as I was waking up and I had to take some ibuprofen after suffering a half hour to let my thyroid meds absorb. So I’m cold, crampy and with a toothache. I’m sure there are some hot flashes on the horizon as well.

I see my dentist tomorrow, so I’ll find out if I have any new cavities. I know I have a cracked one that still needs refilling.

Gonna just try to lose myself in reading and writing today.

Where my HR would be annoying high, today it’s unusually low. It’s 73 now, not a number I usually hit while awake. Could that be why I feel so cold? Maybe my period has something to do with it besides the wacky hormones.

Just bracing myself for what project is on today’s agenda at one of the houses around us. I wasn’t too thrilled to find those white pickup trucks back working at the corner house yesterday. I thought they were done over there.

The new people haven’t been a problem yet, but that’s typical of those who’ve just moved in. They need another month or two before they can really be judged either way.

This may be mean of me, but I blocked some people on Prosebox because I’m getting more followers than I care to keep up with. I kept mostly the old-timers that don’t pester me. Not that those I blocked are “pests,” but I had to do some prioritizing of sorts. This way I don’t have to go friends-only or just ignore people and risk hurting their feelings. They shouldn’t know they’ve been blocked. To them, I’ve just simply stopped writing on Prosebox.

Last night’s dreams are sort of hard to describe. First I was doing some printing project and kept coming up with weird shit. Tom had to help me with it. I was also saving journals in emails I might have been trying to print out as well.

In the weird dream, I was lying in a dark room listening to Barry Manilow's music which he even dedicated to me. The room I was in was at the end of a place that was similar in size and layout to Jesse’s trailer, only on a much larger scale. The bathroom was where I thought Barry was dedicating his songs to me. This room was right outside of the room I was in and the door to the room was open. When the door to where I thought Barry was opened, I called out his name as I saw two shadows move through the darkness and out the door.

Then the lights came on and I saw dozens of people, mostly women, sitting on sofas and chairs. They yawned like they’d just woken up from a nap. Some had dogs by their side. I patted one dog that felt unusually silky soft and asked its owner what kind of dog it was. The woman looked at her other dog and said, “Well, this is a Great Dane…” but never answered my question about the other dog’s breed.

TUESDAY, MARCH 8, 2016 I don’t have anything all that exciting to update on other than the dreams I remember from last night and the shitty weather we’ve been having. It’s been cold, wet, and the greenest it’s been in years.

Oh, and while my period was 9 days late last month, this month it’s a week early. No wonder I started getting slammed with water and boob soreness just a week after my last period. Gone is the predictability and clockwork regularity. So is the pain, too. It’s weird, but I never needed to take anything last month, and so far this month I’m pain-free as well.

“Just like the more I study languages, the more I learn, the longer I live here, the more I learn about the people here at Marbridge.”

That’s what I said in my journal in my dreams last night. Only in the dream, “Marbridge” was a large condo or apartment building I lived in. The Marbridge I know of in real life is the group home where Molly lives.

I realized after posting the entry that I should delete the name so no one would know where I lived.

One of the “neighbors” might have been a large black woman who drove an SUV in which I was in the back seat. She nearly hit a stucco wall, perhaps because she was pissed.

I handwrote in a bag full of journals one by one and then took pictures of them to post online, in another dream.

I was helping Tammy clean her house in yet another dream in preparation for people who were to move in with her and Mark. I was surprised to learn a total of 7 people would soon be living there.

Then it was wintertime and we were at the beach we spent our summers at when I was a child. The cottages were empty since it was cold in Connecticut and during the off-season. It seemed Tom and I had no place else to go, though, so we broke into one so we could escape the streets. I was walking around outside one day and realized I should probably get inside in case anyone came down to check on the area and spotted me.

MONDAY, MARCH 7, 2016 One of the things I love about Prosebox is all the opinions and suggestions people leave me on various things. I love to share and compare thoughts and experiences and gain new insight and ideas for this and that.

I wondered if people would choose fried colored hair over healthy gray hair, and healthy gray hair apparently wins. So I guess it’s probably time to let go of the dye and reach for the scissors. In the next week or two, I’ll get a serious trim. I’m almost 50% gray now, but as much as I hate gray hair, I definitely gotta lay off the dye. My hair looks awful and I kill it enough with the straightening brush, being older, and having a dead thyroid.

It’s pouring again though I expect things to clear up with the sun as it usually does. Might go out walking in the morning if I don’t hit the treadmill while watching my show.

Tried Cherry Cola Tic Tac and I’m not impressed with them at all. It’s funny because I got a mix of “emotional” foods at the grocery store. There’s anti-anxiety food, happy food, and foods to reduce bloating. Dark chocolate is not only a nice treat to have each day so I don’t feel deprived, but it really does seem to be a definite feel-good food. I just have to limit my portions due to high calories and sugar.

I had a dream we bought a three-bedroom house somewhere, and we also got new carpet that was similar in color to what we have here but sculpted. I’m just not sure which house we got it in. We re-carpeted two years ago, so I don’t expect to ever re-carpet this place, even if we were to spend the rest of our lives here.

Also had a strange dream about living in a large hotel. Each room had double beds, and for a while, Tom and I shared a room. But then for some reason, I had to share a room with a young girl in her 20s or so and was worried she wouldn’t want to sleep with my sound machine playing. I asked if that would bother her, and she said it would. Then I asked if she was willing to at least hear it and see if we could agree on a volume and she said that would be okay.

SUNDAY, MARCH 6, 2016 Skipped yesterday’s entry because there wasn’t much to say and I was pretty busy. Except for laundry and grocery shopping, I didn’t do much. I spent most of the day backing up pins from my Pinterest boards.

Anyway, I can’t decide which is uglier, gray hair or fried hair. I definitely need to get my hair at least trimmed if I don’t cut it off completely.

Sipping hot caramel apple cider right now which is surprisingly good. The wind was howling and the rain was coming down in sheets earlier. On the way to and from Walmart, we noticed the mess that the apple blossoms are making throughout the park and Tom commented on how he doesn’t remember so many things blooming in the past. Well, we sure have had a lot of rain for the first time in 4 to 5 years, so that’s probably part of it.

The rain is nice to listen to when I’m relaxing in the dark, but I would prefer this type of weather to be reserved for weekdays to help keep people quieter around here.

Tom plans to go out and trim the yellow African daisies that are outside the front door, but we’re on for thunderstorms over the next couple of days. It would be seriously shitty timing if it rained tomorrow. The guy only has so much time to do his trimming.

At Walmart, I got a beautiful long rainbow pillow that I have absolutely no use for yet couldn’t resist anyway. I guess I’m just a real sucker for colorful rainbows. ;)

I also got a 19” figure of the new Wonder Woman. She’s very realistic-looking with a pretty face and can stand on her own.

Last night I had a dream that we lived in a large apartment building that had about a dozen floors. Fran was not only alive, but he lived in the building as well. He had jet-black hair in the dream instead of the brown hair I remember him to have. Tom was at work when he was at the apartment one day for some reason. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable alone in his presence and told him that I was expecting company in a few minutes from someone who lived on the eighth floor. He left without incident and then I turned back to doing what I was doing, which seemed to be organizing or arranging something with multiple pieces. Then I realized I didn’t lock the door after Fran left and worried that he might have turned around and snuck back in, but he didn’t.

THURSDAY, MARCH 3, 2016 We ordered Echo Dot from Amazon so now we can have Alexa in both the living/kitchen/dining area as well as in the master bedroom. Sometimes I like to listen to audiobooks while I’m coloring in the living room and other times I like to listen while relaxing in the bedroom. Now I won’t have to take our original Alexa back and forth.

So last night and the night before I was depressed. I understood it was because my hormones still have a ways to go to adjust as they fizzle out with age and not due to something going on in my life, but it was no fun. I wasn’t suicidal and hadn’t been since the economy was at its worst. I also haven’t attempted suicide since my teens.

Always looking for ways to help myself, I had looked up anti-anxiety foods and thought it was time to look up happy foods. Tuna was one of them so I opened a pouch of hickory-smoked tuna, squirted in some light mayo, and munched it down. Unless it was just psychological or something, it really did help perk me up. When I’m down, which fortunately isn’t too often, I lack the energy to do anything, but after eating the tuna I worked out and felt more alive and productive.

Last night I dreamed I was asleep during the daytime and was alone in the house. I came semi-awake at one point and looked toward the doorway of the bedroom. There I saw the silhouette of a man. Then it was suddenly nighttime and I walked through the darkened house and into the kitchen. I looked across the hall and into the laundry room and through the window at a car parked in the driveway of the house across the street. In reality, you can only see the road leading towards the edge of the park from there and not anybody’s driveway. But I could see a car parked in the driveway in the dream and a strange light that flashed for a split second every few seconds or so. Then Tom suddenly appeared and startled me. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out.

Then I was walking down the street when I saw a young girl limping barefoot and bloody in the street. She had a head wound and fell to the street. I knew she’d been attacked by someone and I braced myself in case the attacker came after me and I had to defend myself.

Then a girl around her age was present and all I heard was “The only way they’ll release you,” and immediately understood it to mean that while she needed medical attention, there was only one way she would be released from the hospital without question since she was afraid to rat out her attacker.

But then I was suddenly on a bike rather than on foot, and the guy I knew to be the attacker was also there on his own bike. I knew he was wary of me because I was a witness. However, I refused to be scared and was determined to see to it that his macho side stopped with me if he came after me, but I woke up as I was riding away.

The only good dream I had was being in a wonderful relationship with Matthew Gubler, the guy on Criminal Minds. He’s a hottie for a “pretty boy” or a “nerd,” but I’ll stick to my hubby, thank you. :)

A troll named Cindie (if that’s even her real name), is showing a dark side I didn’t know existed. She’s just an online acquaintance who I knew wasn’t all there, but whose worst fault seemed to be being a pest. You just never know who’s going to surprise you with a whole new personality you didn’t know existed within them.

I don’t know much about her other than that she’s got Asperger’s, isn’t all there, and can be a bit of a pest. I’ve unfriended and even blocked her and her cousin Lori at times for butting into Facebook discussions I didn’t feel pertained to them, and just being pests in general.

When I was going through my block list for the first time in quite a while I saw their names and unblocked them, thinking that maybe they’ve changed with time. Dumb assumption to think that these 50-somethings would be much different after a handful of months, though! Lori didn’t bug me as much, but right away Cindie started messaging me like crazy. A week or two ago she suddenly asked me out of the blue if I was upset and wanted to talk yet everything was fine. I didn’t think much of it at the time. So anyway, she ended up giving me her cell number and demanding mine so we could text each other. I politely explained to her that I had no interest in texting since I found it much more convenient to keep in touch with people online, though I do text Aly. Aly, whose latest chemo dose isn’t working, and will soon be taking a medication that’s expensive but has a 97% chance of success.

Anyway, Cindie took my declining to text with her the wrong way and said I was being “cold” to her and that she “wasn’t going to deal with my attitude” and to “watch out” and “later cunt.”

I reported the message and blocked her, not that I expect Facebook to take it seriously at all, and made all past posts for friends only in case she decides to troll me through them. As a couple of people taught me years ago, it’s good to take precautions every now and then. It’s just that a lot of these mentally imbalanced people get really paranoid and even delusional at times, totally believing that people are victimizing them. Hopefully, I won’t hear from her again, but if I do she will have to deal with the consequences depending on what she does. I ignore those I dislike, but I don’t sit back and take it if they force their existence on me either.

Really gives me mixed emotions about dealing with the mentally ill, challenged or whatever you want to call it. I don’t want to turn my back on them as it never helps to shun or ostracize those who can’t help being the way they are, but I also don’t want to deal with their crazy unpredictability either. If someone’s just depressed or a bit anxious, that’s one thing. But those who can’t distinguish right from wrong and fact from fantasy can be hell to deal with. Just utter hell.

Are there any good-looking nuts out there, BTW? Cindie’s ugly as fuck as is Lori as is Molly as is Kim… Speaking of Kim, she never blocked the Twitter account I set up as a test, so no, she’s not watching me regularly like she used to. She only blocks what she sees accidentally through Aly. I disabled the account.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 2, 2016 Sprung my old Ask accounts to life just to see if Andy reaches out to me, not that I’ll respond. Just curious as to what laughable crap he may come up with.

I was thinking about how shocked he was to find I wasn’t as big as he is when he visited, and while I do, like most people, look bigger in photographs, it really is no surprise from one who expects everyone to think, feel, believe and be just like him.

Was also thinking about the twisted laws here and how I would’ve actually gotten much less time had I physically gone after those that had a hand in setting me up in Arizona than by the mere words they used to set me up with. It’s sad but true, and I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. How can assault be considered a misdemeanor while words can be felonious? Yet had I gone and beat the crap outa those responsible, both directly and not, I’d have likely gotten a slap on the wrist for “simple” assault. As I’ve learned, not just from my case but also from what I read/hear on a regular basis, no one has freedom of speech in America. What we do have is the freedom to express what the vast majority wants to hear.

Just look at the black waitress who wrote “black ppl” on a black customer’s receipt, for example, no doubt to keep track of whose receipts were whose. That’s “news” while the mother who might’ve just smacked her daughter or kicked her son remains as obscure as can be no matter who might’ve tried to get their 15 minutes of fame on the child’s behalf.

We’ve had some great weather, even if it doesn’t bring great sleep. I was anxious yesterday because I worried about waking up hot-flashing with a pounding heart, but I didn’t. I did wake up warm a few times and didn’t sleep nearly as long as I should have, but nothing major happened.

Forced myself to do a little cleaning and maybe I’ll force my ass to the Bowflex soon enough. At least I’m not in the lazy mood I was in yesterday. Yesterday I was just so blah that I was almost depressed. The usual stuff… worrying about ‘what ifs’ I shouldn’t be worrying about.

Had a dream I was watching TV with Tom and Andy. Madonna was on some show and I was saying that I didn’t think Madonna was very pretty and judged her to be about a 6. Then I said I couldn’t believe she married such an ugly old man despite his vivid blue eyes.

Then I had a mix of quick dreams that were pretty senseless… hosing ants off an office wall by a desk. Swatting mosquitoes in the air. Telling Andy, “At least you know where the ocean is.” He chuckled at that one.

Hoodie’s making those strange sounds now. Poor guy’s got respiratory issues in his old age. I’m amazed he’s lasted this long.

Later…

This is the second night in a row I was kind of depressed. I hope this isn’t going to be a new trend for me and that I don’t slip into a well of clinical depression as my aging hormones die off! There may not be any God after me, but it would just be my shit “luck.”

My mind is still taking me places I don’t want to go. It’s almost like being forced to watch a movie I don’t want to see. I see all kinds of horrible possibilities that might await both of us in the future. Why is it so hard for me to live in the moment and quit worrying over what either might not happen or that won’t happen for another 20-something years if it does?

Time keeps jumping around in my mind as I compare my younger self to my current self and what’s easier now vs. what was easier then. I compared my way of thinking and viewing the world and wondered what that might be like years from now.

I still worry about suffering in this life as well as in any possible afterlife, even though an afterlife seems scientifically impossible. I tried to shut it out, but my mind went to every possibility out there.

What if I die first and he’s left all alone with no one to help and care for him when he gets old?

What if his doctor one day announces that he’s terminally ill and we have to die together since I wouldn’t and couldn’t go on without him? Even with all the money, help and rides in the world, the depression would be too much to bear. Just a few years or even a few months left to live after he passed would be like an endless eternity to me.

Or what if the worst possible fate awaits me? What if he’s suddenly and unexpectedly killed with no time to prepare to go together, leaving me with 3 horrible choices… to kill myself on my own and hope I don’t fuck it up, to commit a crime bad enough to ensure I’ll be at least somewhat cared for in a jail, nuthouse or some facility like that, or to hit the streets once I could no longer keep things going on the home front and let that slowly do me in.

The best I can hope for is that we die suddenly in a car crash or something before we get old enough to suffer, but not before my early to mid-70s.

Tom says I don't have anything going on right now to worry about and so that's why I'm worrying. I'm sure he's right. That seems to be the story of my life… I either suffer because something bad is happening, or I suffer because I worry that it will. Still, I don’t want anything to come and rock my world in a bad way, thus giving me a genuine reason to worry.

Sometimes I miss the way I would look at the world and see things when I was half my age. Sure I worried about the future, but it wasn't in the way that I worry about it now. Like when I was in Valleyhead. My focus was surviving the place and then living to see the day I walked out of there for good. So I was always less than two years ahead of myself in my mind. For the most part, I was, anyway. I just didn't see the horrible possibilities in the way that I see them now because I hadn't experienced some of those possibilities to even know they existed. My life was worse than it is now, but I looked at things differently. The newness and the wonder of things and all the many possibilities that lay ahead of me gave me a sense of curiosity and excitement. But now many of those possibilities give me a sense of dread. At my age, you know life is no bowl of cherries. You’re not naive enough to think you can make it anything you want it to be. But when we’re young, we see the good possibilities more so than what could go wrong.

Even the depression I had in 2004 when we had to give up our Oregon land and dream of building a house was different than what I’m feeling right now. I guess it’s just easier when it’s an external and very obvious reason (other than losing a loved one) than when you’re getting old and your hormones are fucking with your mind, cycle and pretty much everything. My life is at its best yet I almost feel like I could burst into tears. :( Tom made the comment the other day about women being moody. Damn right on that one!

I’m always in search of self-help and ways to improve myself. I knew the anti-anxiety foods, and thought it was time to learn the happy foods, and I’ve got one of them. Yeah, I’d say my current mood is definitely tuna-worthy. I can at least try it anyway.

TUESDAY, MARCH 1, 2016 Facebook really needs to stop forcing us to see the "likes" and comments our friends make to their friends. Really. I mean, sure it’s nice that they have block buttons, but it was less than thrilling to see a picture of Bill staring back at me with a happy little smile. Yeah, Sarah “liked” a pic of Daddy Dearest standing next to his present object of abuse (Janet) and I just had to see it till I blocked Janet altogether. It was her new profile pic. Unless the cock has me blocked, it doesn’t do Facebook.

And dying? Looks healthy to me. I didn’t see any frail, haggard, pale, unhealthy dying person. I saw a healthy, fat, well-fed man. I also saw a person who brought out the rage in me with the memories that seeing that cock’s face brings out. That’s no doubt gotta have affected Tammy a bit too, I would think. Then again, I don’t know about that. She seems really confused and unsure of her feelings toward our parents. If she can admit in one breath all the horrible things they did to us, then remember them on Facebook and go to their graves, maybe she’s still got a soft spot for Bill?

Like this girl on Prosebox that always bitches about all the atrocities her mother’s committed, leaving me to wonder why the hell she bothers since she’s an adult. There’s this saying, “We can pick our friends, but we can’t pick our family.” No, we can’t. But we can pick whether or not to pick up our phones and call them, can’t we? I guess that just like some kidnap victims develop Stockholm’s Syndrome, some will always have a place in their hearts for those who have treated them the worst in life.

Well, all I can say is this… I don’t worship, protect, defend or respect anyone that screws me, dead or alive, related or not. Now we can’t undo the past, but we can handle the future differently. A lot differently. If you believe in God, then God help you if you burn us in the future, whoever you may be, cuz not even He will be able to protect you then. :)

About an hour after falling asleep really late last night, I woke up hot as hell, heart pounding fiercely. My Fitbit said it was 112, though online it said it never went over 107. I saw it up to 116 when I got up out of bed to Skype Tom. Although I wasn’t scared, I was wound up enough to need a lorazepam to help me get back to sleep. I remembered the days when I’d go through this without any tools to help me. No lorazepam. No emotional tapping. No understanding of what was going on. Either way, really hope these things don’t become a regular part of my life again. I’ve been sleeping so much better and with less waking up along the way, and would really like to keep it that way.

Been feeling kind of borderline today. Maybe I’ll so go listen to the book I’m finishing up, Wanton Regard. Lying in the dark listening helps relax me.

Sent a message to the people I won the set of dolls from, but don’t expect to hear back, much less get the dolls, even though we are listed as a winner on their site.

I also stopped all tweet sweeps. I’m not going to help promote them at my expense. Why clutter my account unless I’m going to actually get something for it?

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

I made it back home yesterday after a delayed flight and an unplanned overnight stay in Dallas and I’m happy to be here. I was able to kiss my amazing wife and sleep in my own bed. It’s amazing how uncomfortable someone else’s bed can be, especially as I’ve g in otten older. 😀

I hope you enjoy these hand picked, artisanal, links. 😃

Geoff Perlman • Xojo Blog

On November 12th Thomas Kurtz, the co-inventor (along with John Kemeny who passed in 1992) of the BASIC programming language died at the age of 96.

BASIC was the first language I learned and I’d say I owe my career to it.

RIP Mr. Kurtz. 🪦

Dan Milmo • The Guardian

In a post on X on Thursday, the author of The Shining and Shawshank Redemption wrote: “I’m leaving Twitter. Tried to stay, but the atmosphere has just become too toxic.” Referring to the rival platform launched by Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta, he added: “Follow me on Threads, if you like.”

I’m glad he finally made it somewhere else! Now all he needs to do is turn on Mastodon support for his Threads account so I can interact with him from the Fediverse. 😃

Federico Viticci • MacStories

Today marks the return of a very MacStories-y feature in one of my longtime favorite apps, which – thanks to this new functionality – is gaining a permanent spot on my Home Screen. Namely, the RSS client Unread now lets you create custom article actions powered by the Shortcuts app.

Unread is just killing it! John is on a tear adding new features and fixing bugs.

Manton Reece

I’m @manton on most networks, @manton.org on Bluesky, and @manton@manton.org on the fediverse. These are all managed by Micro.blog.

Yep. You can run everything through Micro.blog if you’d like to see Mastodon and Bluesky accounts natively. Oh, yeah, and there’s that whole blogging thing you get with it. 😃

Jason McFadden

Well, for some reason, last week I got the notion to re-try my RSS reader. Let me tell you, it was insta-awesome! It feels SO GOOD to be back on RSS. It lets me just read articles from the web — crazy, I know. RSS makes websites legible, stripping out all the distracting garbage.

I think RSS is pretty swell myself. I’m so fond of it I built my own feed reader.

Tom Bowman, Juana Summers, Scott Detrow, Greg Dixon, and Charles Maynes • NPR

Ukraine is granted permission from the Biden administration to fire U.S.-made long range missiles into Russian territory.

I’m happy we’ve done this. Poor Ukraine is going to need every tactical advantage it can get NOW. Pretty soon the Orange Turd will takeover and Ukraine is gonna be in trouble.

Tim Hardwick • MacRumors

Apple is facing an almost £3 billion ($3.78 billion) lawsuit after British consumer group Which? on Thursday alleged that the company breached competition law by locking millions of its customers out of its iCloud service and charging them “rip-off prices.”

I have a lot of thoughts around this and it would be nice to see Apple open the users choice of storage up in a way that makes it transparent to the user. We’ll see what terrible solution they come up with to make it so unattractive to the user no one will choose to use it.

The Guardian

The 40-year-old Minnesota native, who retired in 2019 citing the physical toll from a series of major injuries over the course of her 18-year career, told the New York Times that she had “retired with no intention of coming back”, but was startled to discover that she was pain-free after undergoing a partial right-knee replacement surgery in April.

Having a knee replacement was a freeing experience. Free from pain and free to move about without thinking about where I’m putting my foot. But, I cannot imagine putting on skis and going down a hill at breakneck speeds.

Pro athletes have a different gear than us normals.

Good luck Lindsey! 🍀

Emily Liu

On Bluesky, you can set your website as your username. This is one form of verification on Bluesky, and it’s our version of a “blue check.” We highly recommend that official organizations and high-profile individuals do this.

I thought I’d drop a link in here for this older post since Bluesky will let you set your own domain name. Mine is set to @fahrni.me. I love it!

[pinknatural]

From across the crowded room of the Roadhouse, Dean spots messy black hair, a flash of tan. His heart pounds, and he abruptly turns away from Jo, pushing into the crowd. He passes familiar faces--Rufus, Pamela, his father--but ignores them in favor of stretching onto his tip-toes, looking for a glimpse--there!

Heart in his throat, tentatively hopeful, Dean calls out “Cas?” as the crowd spits him before his best friend. He’d know those shoulders, that hair, those eyes, anywhere. Cas’s face scrunches, apologetic. 

“Dean,” he says, and his voice is wrong, ocatives too high, and Dean’s heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Dean says. 

“I am not your friend,” the man says, in a twisted reversal of what Castiel had said to Claire Novak, years and years ago, and Jimmy Novak says, “I am not Castiel.”

Dean’s heart shatters, and he knows his paradise is lost. 

“This is garbage,” Becky says. She looks up from the manuscript in her hands. “Why would you do that to them?”

Chuck shrugs. He leans back farther on her couch, puts his feet up on her coffee table. He crosses his ankles and she tries to ignore the muddy converse sullying her furniture. She’d literally cleaned that yesterday, does he have no manners?

“They’re my characters,” he says. “I can do what I want with them.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to put Jimmy in Dean’s heaven,” Becky says, frowning. “That just seems cruel.”

“I am a cruel God,” Chuck says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I’m bored of them, and they were rude to me, so this is what you get. Hey, at least Sam got a long and happy life, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No,” Becky says. “Well, not like that.”

“Hey, I even let him marry your self-insert OC who you’ve been fanfic-ing about,” Chuck says. Becky looks back down at the papers in her hands. 

“Is that who that was?”

“Obviously,” Chuck says. 

It’s not obvious. Becky bites her lip and looks at The Road so Far, which is just a massive pile of papers on her desk. Chuck wrote it to “catch her up” on what’s happened in Supernatural since he stopped publishing the books. She doesn’t really like most of it, but--

“What about Eileen?”

“What about Eileen?”

“Shouldn’t Sam have married her, instead? They were kinda perfect for each other.” Becky has grown since she tried to love-potion him. A husband, two kids, and eight years later Becky likes to think she’s mature enough to admit when some girl would be good for Sam--a hundred thousand words of self-insert fic notwithstanding. 

“No, it’s better for Sam to get out of the life,” Chuck says. 

“But in Carry On it says that Dean Jr was a hunter,” Becky says. 

“Yeah, well, you can’t stay out of the life,” Chuck says. “Ooh, do you think Betty should burn on the ceiling? For old times sake?”

“No,” Becky says. She pauses. “Well...what about Jack? This stuff says he’s God.”

“Obviously not,” Chuck snorts. “Unreliable narrators. I dissolved his power into the trees or whatever. He’s not anywhere, now.”

“Right,” Becky says. “So you killed Cas and then his son? And locked Dean away in heaven without him, but with his face there, tormenting him?”

“Maybe you should finish reading the manuscript,” Chuck suggests. Becky is sure that whatever she’s about to read is going to make Carry On a million times worse, but she looks down anyway. 

Dean’s face twists in pain, and the Shadow smirks with smug satisfaction. Oh, delicious agony. 

It stands up, admiring its work. Finally, everyone within its depths is asleep. Now that its work is done, the Empty can finally rest. It dissolves, vanishing into itself, and it leaves Castiel and Dean Winchester behind, sleeping side-by-side, each tormented inside perfect nightmares. 

“WHAT?” Becky cries, standing up and throwing Carry On onto the ground. 

“Good, huh?” Chuck asks smugly, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“No!” Becky says. “Not good! What was that?”

“Dean can’t go to heaven,” Chuck says, rolling his eyes. “No souls that have been to hell can go there. And you remember what Billie said in The Road So Far. Next time Sam and Dean kicked the bucket, well. Empty time. So Dean and Cas are together. Everyone wins!”

“Nobody wins!” Becky cries. “You mean all that heaven stuff was a dream? Did any of that really happen?”

“Uh, no,” Chuck says. “Obviously. Dean is just dreaming it all. Sam’ll meet Betty in about a week. They’ll have a summer wedding next year. Dean Winchester Junior will be born by 2025.”

“Are you serious?” Becky asks. 

“Yeah,” Chuck says. “I’m God. Everything I say is true.”

“That can’t be right,” Becky says. “You’re really gonna end it like this?”

Chuck straightens, one eye flashing black, the other glowing white. Suddenly, he looks deadly serious, and the squirrelly, scruffy guy looks like something more. 

“Yes,” Chuck says. “I’m bored of this game. The Winchesters have been defeated. Sam and Dean will be miserable forever. Both of them thought they won, but they didn’t. I win.”

He stands and advances towards her. Becky backs away, wondering why her, of all people, why does she have to be the person God runs his rough drafts by?

“What are you going to do?” Becky asks, hoping to get him monologuing, and he smiles, a terrifying twist of his face. 

“Whatever I want,” he says, then he snaps his fingers, and everything goes black.

[ao3]

[doctorbunny]

MILGRAM theory time: Haruka!

This isn't going to go super in depth (famous last words) but there's a few heavily debated parts of Haruka's MV I want to share my findings/thoughts on because I think this is my new special interest and during my quest to get best boy's song to 1 million views I have been looking over his first MV with a fine tooth comb so to speak.

Disclaimer: As the Jackalope said in the "This is the MILGRAM" trailer, we don't necessarily know everyone's crime from just the first video, its possible that a lot of things will be re-contextualized in the second MV, however I am not psychic or bilingual and thus will only be working with content released before August 20th 2021 and translated into English (which could cause some language/cultural details to be lost on me as translation is not a 1 to 1 process).

TW for discussions of ableism, child abuse, murder and animal death. Also this is really long so sorry to all the people that follow me for non-MILGRAM stuff

Firstly, I want to start on the topic of Haruka as a person. He is disabled. He does not have 'the mind of a child' (although he is 17, making him legally a minor in both North America and Japan). He is not just 'child-like'. And he is not mentally ill (well he might be, in the sense that many disabilities like Haruka's have strong comorbidities [where a person has two or more conditions but neither directly causes the other] with anxiety, depression and PTSD, but usually when I see people talk about him 'struggling with mental illness' they go on to refer to aspects of his disability). Sometimes on tumblr, people like myself, will see canonical traits written into a character and identify them as being traits associated with our disabilities/mental illness and headcanon them as such. Sometimes this even involves saying things like "It's basically canon!" Although we understand that these characters were probably not the result of a writer intending to write a disabled person. When I say that Haruka is being written as a person with a neurodevelopmental disability, I mean the writer intended to write a disabled character and wrote them in a way that they wanted the audience to pick up on. As an autistic person (which is one of many neurodevelopmental disorders and also something I probably didn't have to specify because who else would be writing an essay about a series they got into a few days ago at 11 o'clock at night) I really like how Haruka has been written so far. There's definitely some parts of him that have been exaggerated so abled normies can pick up on his disability (namely how his MV 's main motif is really child-like drawings) but the writers also included a lot of smaller details I appreciate like how it is noted he avoids eye contact when talking to other people and is depicted as nervously pulling at his sleeves in official artwork, or how he says he finds his prison uniform (which has tight straps) 'relaxing' and when he gets nervous/tense, he will dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands. (These last two potential being examples of 'self stimulation' [aka stimming] where a person seeks out specific sensory stimuli in order to help regulate their nervous system/emotions, in this case the tight uniform creates a comforting, secure feeling [you may have heard about some people preferring to sleep under weighted blankets for this reason] and digging nails into his palms sounds uncomfortable/painful but is done in an attempt to deal with a greater sensory discomfort caused by the situation/environment) I also appreciate the depth he is written with, he struggles to communicate verbally but in his MV and interactions with other inmates is shown to have insecurities, opinions and a consistent thought process (this is all basic character stuff but unfortunately not always present in disabled characters)

Also I want to add that (in terms of what we've been shown so far) Haruka did not kill anyone because of his disability/mental illness. Disabled people are not inherently more innocent than abled people. But there is no disability/mental illness where a symptom is that you kill people and real people have to live with the stigma when you speak carelessly and suggest things like "Haruka is the kind of mentally ill person who kills people as a cry for help" 🧂 (or at the very least real people have to read BS like that and cringe). TL;DR Haruka is less child-like and more onion-like (as in, he has layers) 🧅🧅🧅

Now is the actual theory stuff, oops:

Every prisoner in MILGRAM is supposed to have committed murder in some way, obviously considering Yuno just had an abortion (which i personally do not consider an act of murder) whilst Mu literally stabbed someone to death, this definition is stretched a bit. But it is not agreed upon yet who Haruka killed/how many people he killed or why he killed.

In his MV he is shown to have chased after his dog into a forest, seen something off-screen, then beaten something into a messy pulp with a rock. Some people think the dog is a red herring and that Haruka actually killed his mother/the girl from the fireworks show/his brother. I do not agree.

First: I believe Haruka when he says he doesn't have a brother. The MV literally starts by Haruka looking in the mirror and then switching between the him now

and a really similar looking younger child who just so happened to be a key feature of his memories (I don't have the vocabulary to explain it but its like cinematic parallels that establish this is the same person at different points of their life)

Its not impossible that this is Haruka's secret younger brother, but i think its unlikely. I saw someone saying they had to be different people because Haruka looks less happy than the child but like, most 17 year olds are less visibly happy than when they were 7 (or however old the child is meant to be). Life happens.

So when Haruka is shown pushing the child around and eventually strangling him, this isn't meant to be literal (homicide or suicide), but a representation of how conflicted Haruka feels about his younger self, who may have committed the murder (if you've ever been kept awake cringing at memories of something you said in the past and wishing you could go slap some sense into your former self, this is like that but 10 times more self loathing). The lyric "I am always repeating yesterday," implies he might think about this specific past event a lot.

Moving on, its pretty well accepted that Haruka's parents were abusive in some way and Haruka internalised a lot of it: he constantly apologises, he says in his interrogation questions that his one wish come true is that "[he] want[s] to be loved" and describes in his MV how when he couldn't find the words he was looking for ("you're unfair") one of his parents "would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”". He seems to know its unfair but also still says he 'loves' his family, possibly mistakenly believing it is his fault, but also showing an awareness of his situation (and how his parents might behave).

Now, the MV is stylised in a way that makes certain details unclear, but there is one clear detail showing that Haruka's dog was killed

This is the first close up of Haruka and the dog. Haruka's mother is just out of frame supervising, but they look pretty happy. Notice how the puppy has a silvery chain for a collar. Somehow, this dog gets out of the house but only Haruka is shown chasing after it (whether his mother was searching elsewhere or didn't bother following her disabled son into the forest is unclear). Either way, young Haruka is now in the forest, unsupervised.

By the time he finds the dog, there is already blood, suggesting it was initally attacked by something else.

is this a sigh of relief from a boy whose finally found his beloved pet or a jealous weakling glad that nature took its course and he is finally free of that meddling mutt stealing all his mummy's attention? /j

I think this shock at the discovery that 'there is blood on his hands' could imply that rather than literally getting the blood from his dog, Haruka has seen his already injured dog and realises that if the dog got out because of him (he is previously shown to be aware his parents seem to blame him for everything) then he is the reason his dog is injured/dying and will be blamed for it. (this scene plays over the lyrics "It’s fine, though it’s really not It’s really fine, though I don’t really think so When I tried to understand it, You’ll make that disappointed face again" suggesting he is trying to avoid making his parents disappointed and letting the family pet escape into danger is something that could make them very disappointed)

now we get into rock murder (this is present-day Haruka implying that this is either: not how the scene really played out; the writers really wanting the audience to know that this was Haruka's doing and not someone else's; or this turns into a separate incident that happened much later [although note that the red sky and blue moon is the same as when young Haruka first appears at the start])

b the corpse is beyond mangled now, but its clearly the dog because the silver chain collar is still there, to the right of the body. (circled in red for your convenience :3)

My hypothesis is: Haruka didn't set out to kill his dog, but upon finding it injured (we don't know the severity aside from bleeding and also it not being able to run away from Haruka kneeling down above it w/ a big rock so it could range from treatable with a lot of vet help to already on death's door, TBH I don't think Haruka would know the difference) He knew he'd be blamed for this; made into a villain who let the poor puppy come to harm. He panicked and killed the dog out of some idea that it would make him the victim here (since he'd be found crying over a dog corpse, which might make a parent go comfort him rather than getting angry about what could've happened to the dog). This is over the lyrics: "I cried, I screamed I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling I was in denial, I was in denial I just had to make sure I’ve become a victim, I’ve become a victim" (there's another theory that he was also jealous of the dog, which could work here too, since this is not some calculated plot; rather its a rash decision) This ties in with his Japanese song title (translated as Weakness) which is a play on a phrase sort of like "The strong eat, the weak do not" to become "The weak are eaten by society" or "The weak eat each other to survive" [once again I am reminding everyone this is based on second hand information from the youtube comments section (from users mitchki and Alphaistic) because I do not speak Japanese] This second meaning (The weak eat each other to survive) makes sense under the reading that Haruka killed his dog in order to 'survive' making his parents disappointed for the dog escaping.

Miscellaneous points:

We don't know where Haruka's necklace came from yet, it must be a gift since the most expensive thing he's ever bought was cotton candy. The younger child in the video isn't wearing it and neither is his mother or the girl in the purple dress.

Haruka's home seems quite big, at the start we can see a large flower garden outside the window and there's a forest in walking distance. This might suggest his family is quite wealthy

Haruka probably did go to school at some point as homeschooling is not a legally accepted as an alternative to public schools in Japan. (However it is estimated that up to 5000 families homeschool, this is uncommon) A lot (about 62%) of Japanese schools apparently have a 'special needs' classes and there are about 505 schools focused on educating intellectually disabled students (although I do not know which sort Haruka would've needed as whilst intellectual and development disabilities can be comorbid they aren't the same). Now, if children aged 7-14 don't go to school, their parents receive a fine, but its possible that if Haruka's parents are wealthy, they just paid it to avoid sending him to school. (This might imply they wanted to hide him or were generally ashamed of him in some way) However high school education (for students over 14) is not legally required and its likely that even if Haruka went to elementary/middle school, he hasn't been around people his own age in at least 3 years. As he seems quite lonely and glad that the other prisoners give him attention.

I don't think Haruka's parents are divorced and if they are, its not his father who left. Haruka mentions in the 30 questions that he thinks he disappointed his father. But still includes him as part of his family ("My father and mother and me"). A theory I've seen is that his father was disappointed by his son being disabled and left. but developmental disabilities (especially in non verbal and semi verbal children like Haruka) can be diagnosed before the age of 3, so I feel it is unlikely that Haruka would bring up his father if he left that early in Haruka's life

All MILGRAM prisoners have covered one of DECO*27's older vocaloid songs (DECO*27 is a well known producer who composes the music for MILGRAM) Haruka covered 'Two Breaths Walking' (https://youtu.be/puXLfVWrz2Q) which is about a boy's first relationship and how his mother's jealousy set him up for failure as the relationship becomes toxic (specifically it has some very funny out of context lines like "Whose breasts are you sucking on now?") so yeah, mommy issues: the song (Also: some people say in the song, the boy kills the girl at the end, but this isn't literal, TBW is the first of a trilogy of songs about the same relationship, it is followed by Android girl then Two Breaths Walking: Reloaded and the story resolves with the couple reuniting as adults and getting in the relationship again, although its not necessarily as abusive as before, its still implied to be codependant ending on the line 'We should live like oxygen tanks, sucking breathe from the words each of us exhale, until our last breathe')

In all seriousness, the scene where younger Haruka is walking through the city with his mother but it keeps repeating until older Haruka pulls the younger one away might indicate an attempt to focus the happier memories of his parents (since this is also over the lyrics "Why is it breaking? Tell me why? Please don’t change If I tried and couldn’t say it, You would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”" which depict a worse scene) I think both his parents are still physically present but have become far more emotionally distant, not giving him as much attention, which exacerbates his loneliness from not having any friends his own age to talk to

And if one of his parents did leave? I think its likely his mother since she is shown disappearing out of his reach after the dog-incident (inferring she got angry/disappointed in Haruka anyway) This could also be where he got his necklace from: Its something his mother used to wear (although this is 100% a guess) and that's why its shown to be important to him

This one is just me, but i didn't realise until a rewatch that when Haruka is watching the younger him and the girl running together, the background has fireworks. Haruka mentions fireworks being a key memory to him so I wonder if this was one of the first/last times he got to make a friend...

On three separate occasions in the interrogation, Haruka mentions not liking animals. Despite this, he is depicted as sleeping with a rabbit plush and on his birthday art (I'd include that too but tumblr only allows 10 pictures per post, so here's a link) he is standing next to a giant blueberry and strawberry cake with two bunny themed biscuits at the side. Through my experiences of seeing Japanese fandom art on pixiv, sometimes rabbits are used to insinuate a character is cute and timid in fanart.

Meaningless details: Haruka sleeps with his necklace on; he sleeps on a bed and not a futon; at first I thought he woke up holding his plush's hand but his hand is merely next to the toy; and considering the state of the pillow and blanket, I wonder if he moves a lot in his sleep or if the is just because in this case he seems to be waking up from a nightmare about the dog incident...

Final note: I've spent so many hours writing this I don't remember if i was building up to any big finale or not but I hope you enjoyed reading this! Feel free to add on in the comments/reblogs.

[anime-corner]

I'm Here | Oikawa T.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back (hopefully for longer since classes are about to end). Anyways, this one's a bit shorter than usual. I hope you like it!

"Yahoo! Knock, knock~ Sorry, practice finished later than usual!" Oikawa called out but was only greeted by darkness, "(n/n)-chan?"

The house was still, not a single noise was heard. Oikawa doubted that you would leave without texting him, it was practically tradition to crash at your place every after school. He looked around, stealing a loaf of bread before heading upstairs. Dim lights could be seen from under the closed door as Oikawa turned the knob, inviting himself in as usual.

"Hey, Iwa-chan told me that-- what are you doing typing, er writing, whatever it is you're doing in the dark?!" He bellowed, flicking the light switch on. A hiss escaped your lips as you momentarily closed your eyes to adjust to the lighting.

"Shut up, Tooru. I'm kind of busy at the moment so if you don't mind, I'd like to finish all of this tonight." His eyes glanced over at the stack of papers on your left as your right hand hovered on top of another, gripping on a pencil tightly. Your left hand was typing away as fast as it could.

"What's all these? Haven't you finished the assignment yesterday?"

"Well, yes but, this one's for the student council. I need to file a report and it needs to be passed at midnight." You then gestured towards the paper, a bit crumpled with the many times you wrote the wrong formula, "And this is for Monday's class presentation."

"And these?" He pointed towards the stack of papers.

"That's…" You blinked a couple of times before responding, "I think it's the ones from the council three days ago that I haven't checked yet. Anyways, I'll handle that after I'm done with this."

"How many hours of sleep did you even get?" He asked.

"What? I don't think my sleep schedule has anything to do with this, Tooru." You answered, not taking your eyes off of your work.

"Just tell me." Oikawa insisted, sitting on your bed as he stared at you.

"Fine. Around two or so? I'll give it a three since I've been running on coffee since I woke up." His brows furrowed, worry etched on his face if only you took the time to look at him.

"That's not good, (n/n)-chan. Come on, I'll finish that." You shook your head, still not lifting your gaze away.

"No way, you had practice just minutes ago! I'm perfectly capable of finishing these within the day if you just so let me. Now shush-- hey!"

"I mean it, (y/n)." You huffed as you glared at him, "You need your sleep. I'll wake you up before dinner."

"What? No! I can't, Tooru!" You protested, standing up from your seat as you felt a slight pain from your head. You shook it off as nothing, "Tachibana-sensei's breathing down my neck saying she'd be the reason why I wouldn't be graduating this year."

"You still have a day to go before classes start again on Monday. You don't need to rush everything today--"

"Haven't you been listening? The report is due tonight. These," You gestured towards the stack of papers, "Might as well be due at the same time. And after this one, I've also got to revise my notes. I'm falling behind, Tooru and I don't want to hear anything from my mother once I move back."

"You won't (y/n), trust me. You're the smartest girl I know in school and probably the busiest one. I'm sure she'd be proud of you--"

"You see, that's not enough. I need to get my grades up, a bit higher than now." You countered. You retorted, huffing in annoyance at how the setter wouldn’t leave you all alone.

"You don't need to. What you need is to calm down a bit. You know that--"

"Will you stop it, Tooru!? You just don't get it, do you?! My parents thought that I would get into Shiratorizawa and what did I do? Fail the exam!" You bellowed, standing up from your seat as the male stepped back a bit. You stood up, voice raised as Oikawa stepped back, "My mom wanted me to at least be at the top during my first and second year, to at least in her words, redeem myself. But I failed on that too. Now, you're telling me to calm down? To take a break? Well, I can't. I've got my family's voices screaming at me saying I should do better! Do you know how--"

"You're crying, (y/n)..." Oikawa whispered as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears. You lightly pushed him back, rubbing your way with your sleeves. He pointed out. A hand lay on your cheek as his thumb wiped away a tear, you pushed him away after, wiping it away with your hands.

"S-shut up. I'm not crying. Just… leave me alone for today, Tooru. I'm really busy and I can't afford to let all of my hard work turn to dust."

"I'll help you."

"For the last time, I--" He cut you off.

"Just let me help!" He was already frustrated seeing the girl he adored so much struggling with her life.

He knew of her problem with her parents and most importantly, he knew the conflict she had with herself. He knew that feeling more than ever. And he didn't want her to feel the same way he did during that time.

And he was afraid that, while it might not cost her a knee, she might lose so much more if she continues. Perhaps, her eyesight or her health. Worst case, her life. And he wasn't going to let her get to that point.

"If Iwa-chan was here, he'd know what to do… but he isn't. And I don't want to disturb him too. I'm just trying my best to help you, because I understand, I understand you the most out of everyone," He walked closer, enveloping you in a hug as the two of you sat on the floor, "You just want to prove something but, you're all fed up about everything. You're trying your best but I guess, to others, that's not good enough."

Tears slowly dripped down from your face once again as you buried your head on his chest, gripping on his jacket, "Why can't you leave me alone, Tooru? I don't care if you get me… I just want to be left alone."

"I'm staying, (y/n) and that's final. I'm not going to let you carry that burden all by yourself anymore. I'm here, remember? I'll help you," Oikawa whispered in your ear as he caressed your back, "You're, besides Iwaizumi, the one I treasure the most. I care about you and I don't want you to suffer like this when I know that I could have tried and saved you from it."

"Why?" That one question made him silent for a while as you looked up at him.

"I… it's because…" He sighed, making you somewhat dread and anticipate the answer at the same time, "I love you, you know that? And while this might possibly be-- ah, who am I kidding? It's the worst time possible to tell you this, I don't think that I'll be able to get another chance like this."

"T-Tooru… I…" You started but went silent as he brought his hand up.

"Please hear me out?" He inhaled before opening his mouth again to speak, "I… I want to support you (y/n), the same way you and Iwaizumi did all these years, especially during the time when I overworked my knee. The two of you were always there. So, let me be there for you too."

"It's just not easy when you've been doing everything yourself for most of your life…" You gulped, avoiding his gaze as you clenched your fists tightly.

"I know. But, I really do love you. And I promise that you'll never regret choosing me unlike how I regret eyeing up girls when I knew that you were right in front of me the whole time and they'll never be you. They'll never be as hardworking, caring and overly kind as you. You're perfect and so much more. Because everything means nothing to me if I can have you to call as mine." Oikawa said, moving a strand of your hair away from your face.

"Even the nationals?" You asked, teasing him a bit.

"I… okay, maybe not the nationals. I still want to beat Ushiwaka and all. But that's besides the point," He shook his head, placing his chin on top of your head, "You're amazing and beautiful, even when you think you're not. And I'm really sorry for confessing at the worst time possible. But, believe me when I say that I love you."

"Why are you… confessing now?" Somehow, this question made him think. It's not like he hadn't practiced his answer in the mirror for a million times, making sure it was perfect to his ears. Not at all. But, given the situation, he'd have to abandon that script and start a new one.

"Well, it just pains me to see you doing the same things I did before, even though your academics and my career as a player are two different things, and I thought that if I manage to successfully tell you how I feel, I could somehow help you carry all of this. Because by that time, I would hopefully be your boyfriend." Oikawa spoke genuinely, moving one of his hands from her back to her head, stroking her hair.

"You don't need to be my boyfriend to help me, you know."

"I know that but you just make it so difficult, argh! Everytime I see you frustrated, I just wanna hug you and kiss you and then take over your work while you rest. But I can't do that as a friend! So… so..." Not that he thought about it, what he said sounded stupid, "Yeah, I know. It's a dumb excuse."

"You're an idiot." The third year laughed out loud.

"I know, Iwa tells me that all the time." You lightly hit his shoulder, hiding the smile that was threatening to show, "At least I made you smile right?"

"I guess you did, Tooru. I guess you did." He hummed in satisfaction before something else you couldn't quite figure out what was etched on his face.

"I'm not going to force you to answer my feelings right away, (y/n)-chan. I can wait." He stammered.

"Why wait when I feel the same way? I love you too, Tooru." He perked up suddenly, making you hide the massive blush on your face.

"Wait, really? You're not joking right? (y/n)?" The setter found you fast asleep, whether or not you were faking it, he wouldn't know. He only chuckled, kissing your head, "Alright… I'll let you get some rest. You deserve it."

He carried you over to your bed, tucking you in. His hand lingered on your cheek, a smile on his face as he whispered.

"Dream of me will you, (y/n)-chan?" Oikawa stood up straight, eyes darting towards your mess of a desk, "Now… which one did she say she needed by midnight?"

Let me hold your hand and carry the same burden you hold. I'll always be here, even if you push me away.

[comfortmarvelimagines]

You are Home, and Home is Safe

heyhey ! deciding to just get it over with and post this tonight (for those of you who don’t know what i’m talking about, a post explaining can be found here. side note, please be nice in my inbox, its been rough getting some of those comments). i am, however, going to continue to tag autistic!reader fics with #whenyoucantfindthequiet and #wycftq, so they’re easier to find. hope it’s what you’re after, nonnie, and i’m so so sorry it took so long !!

features : autistic!reader x mama!nat, lowkey asshole Tony Stark (it’s okay i didn’t make him really mean, just kinda well-meaning but misplaced/ mistimed) 

warnings : uhhh i guess meltdowns, some self-injurious behaviour

Words are hard. Always have been, always will be. 

You haven't always had a family. For years you were passed from foster home to foster home, with a consistent message: you were too much. Your needs were too high, your behaviour too confusing, your struggles too much to deal with. It got to a point where you began to question yourself, your diagnoses and trauma, wondering if it was all in your head or for attention like you were told over and over. 

That changed when you met Nat. 

It wasn’t immediate of course. There was the initial period of complete and total distrust, of another stranger whose life you were thrust into the middle of, floundering and drowning with no support. There was shutdown after shutdown. The trauma of being ignored and punished for meltdowns meant that you’d learned to internalise. You barely ate, and didn’t speak. But Nat met you where you were, unwaveringly. Was always calm, composed, voice level. Kept food out on the kitchen bench at all times, figuring out your safe foods and keeping them stocked. Realised you liked small enclosed spaces and stocked your bedroom with beanbags, pillows, stuffies and blankets, a permanent blanket fort taking up residence in the living space. Perhaps the most wonderful was her commitment to listening to you, with or without words. The superspy was quick to recognise your shutdown states from body language alone and responded quickly, with two option questions and the request to tap the hand of the answer you wanted. 

You almost wanted to feel embarrassed, humiliated, of the accommodations she made so immediately. But she always spoke to you conversationally and never in an infantilizing tone, like so many before her, and the trust you held for her grew. It didn’t always grow in a way that you felt was positive, though. As weeks passed you felt your shutdowns turn into meltdowns and silence into frustrated screams. You didn’t want to hurt her. You didn’t want to feel ungrateful or angry or like any of this was on purpose but somehow she knew. As she held you close after each one she reminded you that your body was unlearning trauma, that you were safe, that you were loved so fully and unconditionally and nothing, including meltdowns, would change that. The way she held you felt like home. 

But no one else was like Nat. Social workers were condescending, school was overwhelming, nowhere was safe. So you stuck to Nat. It wasn’t long after you were placed with her that she pulled you out of school, realising that they were doing more harm than good, and she was always there for homeschool. Not looking over your shoulder, but present. You could hear her humming through the walls, or swearing as she dropped a spoon into a pot of soup on the stove again, and it was comforting. It wasn’t the apartment that was home, per say, but having a parent made it feel like one. If she went to the grocery store or a walk in the park you came with, ear defenders on, clinging to her sleeve for safety. She told you that she loved you a million times a day, until one day you said it back. 

Words came easier after that. Simple things, like asking what’s for breakfast, became routine. It wasn’t just Nat softly illuminating the cramped space with hummed melodies and occasionally vulgar language but you as well, asking for help with homework or explaining a meme. It felt normal, comfortable, okay. The outside world was too much, but inside your home, the anxiety all but melted from your throat. 

You never wanted to leave safety. You wanted to feel it all the time. It was warm and sweet and heavy but in a calm way, like a weighted blanket sinking into your joints. It started as a one-time-thing, after a particularly rough meltdown, but you started sleeping in Nat’s bed. It just felt… right. The panic that set in when Nat left the room and you didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing or if she was ever going to come back was so all-consuming and nauseating that going to sleep alone, in another room, unable to hear her was torturous. What if she abandoned you, gone in the night, social worker beckoning you on to the next uncaring couple, crowded foster family or group home? This way, when you woke at 2am from a nightmare, the first thing you heard was her even breathing. Home. Safe. 

***

Tony Stark was something else. Nat eventually started to transition back to work, and, as being homeschooled permitted, brought you with her. Even in classified meetings where you weren’t allowed in you sat in corridors and made sure you could see her red braid through the frosted glass, glancing up from your laptop every few seconds to make sure she didn’t disappear while you wrote your English critique. The rest of Nat’s colleagues (it felt too weird to just casually refer to them as the Avengers and co) didn’t mention your presence, at least in front of you; it was as if they didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Not that you’d say anything back. Outside of the safety of home it was like the anxiety disconnected your brain from your throat, anything you wanted to say cut off before it reached your tongue. It was frustrating. The first few days ended in meltdowns when you reached the apartment and it felt weird and strange and almost like you were two different people but an all-round embarrassment of a child. It was weeks before things settled into a routine and a pattern of acknowledged non-acknowledgement. A pattern Stark ignored. 

You were sitting at the island bench in the communal kitchen, drinking chocolate milk and typing out an assignment, when you heard both Nat and Tony heading down the hall towards you. They’d just come out of a meeting, you sitting watch outside the whole time, and Nat had sent you to the kitchen to wait for her while she headed upstairs with Tony to drop off some paperwork to an intern. You hadn’t thought much of it. Sure, you didn’t like being away from Nat at all, but if she was clear in where she was going and how long she was going for (provided it was only a short period), you did okay. It was okay, until you heard the discussion from down the hall. 

“Damn, Nat, is that the longest you’ve been away from the kid?” 

“No.” 

“C’mon, Nat. I know the kid’s been through some shit, but this isn’t healthy. For either of you. What happens if you can’t get out of the mission next time? They’re gonna have to be away from you at some point. You can’t be in this line of work with a barnacle of a kid.” 

You’d heard enough. As the topic changed and they entered the kitchen, you didn’t look up from your laptop in greeting.  

*** 

Too much. Too clingy. Too anxious, too needy, too autistic, too much. You needed separation. Give Nat space. Of course she needed to work. The world needed her, and they didn’t need you tagging along. When you got home that night, you headed straight to your room. Buried yourself in the mountain of blankets and stuffies and waited until Nat came to check on you, facing the wall, feigning sleep. You doubt you fooled the former spy but nonetheless, she left you be, a whispered “I love you” hanging in the air as she creaked the door close behind her. 

It was seconds before you broke. It felt like choking. All of the fear that was slowly reduced to an ebbing tide through months of living in a caring environment crashed on you like the mother of all tsunamis, saltwater running down your cheeks and into your mouth as if smothering all the words you wished you could scream. It lasted for hours and hours and it was relentless, painful, as if your heart was being ripped out and an empty throbbing numbness was expanding in its place. You were too much. Too much. Too much. 

Nat stood outside your door at the time when she’d usually be gently waking you up, watching you unfurl and stretch yourself out of the cocoon of blankets you slept in every night. She knew something was wrong from lunch yesterday, and your isolation from her was concerning. She figured you needed space, but the sleep she knew was an act sat at the back of her mind and bugged her all night long. Even with that nagging suspicion that something was up, nothing prepared her for the way her heart sank when she came in and saw your body curled up, eyes red and barely open from exhaustion, pillow and face damp from tears. 

She was at your side in seconds. Your resolve to cut yourself off melted at the sight of her open arms, safe, warm, home. And immediately your body melted. Hands running through your hair, the promise that you were safe, loved, worthy of support, the request to “tell me next time, please, you don’t need to deal with this on your own.” 

For some reason, those were the words that broke out the first sounding sob in the 12 hours of silent crying. It was so loud and gut-wrenching and it almost didn’t feel like it came from you at all and it was such a weird feeling, and all of a sudden you were scratching at your arms to try and re-embody yourself and Nat was breathing calmly and deeply and gently rubbing your shoulders until you found yourself easing back into your physicality.  

“Did you hear what Stark said yesterday?” 

And just like that she figured it out, of course she did, because she’s a trained spy and that’s her job, to put the pieces together and slot the narrative into place. And god, were you grateful, because you couldn’t see yourself stringing sentences together to accuse none other than Iron Man himself of triggering waves of hurt just by stating what you’d convinced yourself was the truth. She was quick to reassure. You are loved, you are wanted, you are always welcome and will always be her child and what you need will always come first. The warm safety settled itself in your belly and you let the tiredness wash over you, drifting on a life raft of whispered Russian lullabies and Nat’s hand rubbing circles on your back. At peace.

Of course, you’d never tell Nat, but hearing her whisper-yell at Tony over the phone for being an insensitive dick was possibly one of the best moments of your life.

[springalwayscomes]

Still Alive

I would need a million words

If I tried to define

All the things you mean to me, yeah

For you I'd die a thousand lives

Special kind of energy

'Cause love is born when hearts collide

Every time you touch me

You remind me that I'm still alive

-17, Pink Sweats

Plot: Jungkook is the reason. For what, you don’t really have to explain. And the fact that he’s been feeling low lately, you say, only makes you want to stay by his side more. Truth is he’s feeling worse than he’s ever felt.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Wordcount: 2.4k

Content Warning: Mentions and descriptions of panic and anxiety attacks, Jungkook is lost and depressed (if we have to minimize). Please do not read if you are triggered by this type of content.

Author’s Note: Honestly, I’m not even sure if I really want to post this. This one is different from what I’ve been writing until now and I feel so exposed. I’ve been through this, so it’s pretty difficult for me to talk about something like this without feeling exposed and fragile again, I’m not even sure about the reason why I wrote this, but now it’s done. I hope I will keep this on the blog, even though I’m not sure. It was inspired by the song 17 by Pink Sweats, and at the beginning I wanted to write a soft smut but it turned out to be like this and so much deeper than I‘ve ever imagined. To write it I really had to minimize the feelings I used to feel at that time, because I couldn’t express them in the right way and honestly (really honestly), thinking about that period of my life still scares me a lot. Anyway, I am feeling better now, and even though this work contains a lot of sadness and it’s really harsh and raw to read, I want to tell to whoever is going through this, or whatever problem you’re facing along your way that you’ll feel good again. Spring will come again, as our boys say. You’ll feel light again, and you will be three times wiser than you were before. I wish a happy new year to everyone and I hope that you will appreciate this! 2021 will be better than 2020, so let’s all cheer up.💜

«It just sucks»

These are the first words that welcome you home. Jungkook’s voice coming from the bedroom and your mind immediately wandering to understand what’s happening, if he’s fine. He’s been feeling low lately, anxious and stressed with work. It sucks to see him like this, if you were to use his words. It sucks.

Jungkook is the reason. For what, you don’t really have to explain. He is the reason. Jungkook is everything, everything.

The images of last night coming to your mind make you eyes water and you quickly take your shoes and coat off before you jog to the room where he is.

Layed on the bed, arms crossed on his chest and hair disheveled Jungkook stares the ceiling on top of him, Taehyung and Jimin at his sides. You swear you see his cheek glint under the light, the path of a tear making its way on his skin. Your chest heavies, breath stuck in your throat as Taehyung and Jimin notice your presence and greet you with smiles that say anything but happiness.

«Baby» you call out. Jungkook blinks, neck slowly turning to meet his eyes with yours. The way yours are watering more and more every second and the way Jungkook bites on his lower lip tell Taehyung and Jimin that they should probably leave you alone. The two sigh, hugging the littlest man tightly and whispering things you can’t discern from here, but Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change. And it breaks you apart, in a million, billiards of pieces, scraps.

His hyungs smile at you, each one leaving a kiss on your cheek before they head to the door.

It’s only when you hear it click that your body starts working again, quickly removing your clothes and letting them fall onto the floor, then taking big steps towards the bed and sitting down. You know what comes now, it became a routine by now, and Jungkook knows it too.

You hug him. So tight and comforting, lovingly that he feels his eyes water again, for the fifth time today. Your embrace smells like the both of you, familiar and special, a space that seems made just for him.

His head rests on your chest and a moment later you’re slowly laying on the mattress, leading him with you and trying your best not to make any movements that could scare him.

Jungkook is having problems, not a little. You’re just too scared to admit it.

He’s been feeling low lately, you say.

He’s feeling worse than he’s ever felt. He’s scared, scared of the world and himself, of everything. He always feels anxious, putting his nerves on the edge and his brain in condition of never stop working, he’s always attentive, watchful of everything, too much.

The anxiety eventually led to anxiety attacks and panic attacks. It’s been a hell of a road until now, and you thought that maybe he could make it. You still think it, but these times seem to be the hardest. Especially since yesterday night.

He had a panick attack in his sleep. His side of the bed wet with sweat and tears, his whines waking you up just to see him with his hands on his chest and his face soaked with both tears and sweat, eyes shut close and lips as red as blood.

Jungkook is extremely sensible. He feels the judgement of people, he’s shy and it takes him a lot to stand for himself, his self-esteem has never been so low than in these last year. All of these facts together, eventually led to a breaking point. This moment. “If you won’t let it go, it will occur the time where your body will come in the way and do it for yourself.”, said his psychologist last week as she tried to explain what was happening to him. “His brain told him to stop what he was doing and since he wouldn’t listen, it had found a different way.”

And you swear on your life as you hug him tighter and tighter to you, your fingers brushing through his hair and his hot breath fanning on your neck, that you will be here for him forever. It doesn’t matter how much it will take him to feel better, how hard it will be.

«Do you want to talk?» you whisper. As quietly as you can. He doesn’t answer, but you feel his arms tighten their hold around you. You watch the beautiful features of his face, his eyebrows, his eyes shut, his nose, the petals of his lips, the freckle on his nose and under his lower lips, his golden skin.

«I’m here, I am always going to be here. I love you» you whisper.

Jungkook wouldn’t want to do it again, but by now his eyes are reckless and they let out another tear; warm and full of pain it tickles his skin as it travels on his nose until it eventually falls and lands on your collar bone.

«I’m sorry» he whines, sniffing. His face nuzzles onto the crook of your neck as other warm tears wet your skin. Your heart shakes, your chest becomes heavier. You squeeze him so tight, if there was a way to take away all of his pain you’d do it without even blinking, even if it’d end with you being in his shoes.

«What are you sorry for?» you whisper again, your lips kissing the locks of his dark hair as he hides his face.

His body is stronger, bigger than yours. But he needs the same attention and love as a baby now, the same thoughtfulness. Jungkook is in a fragile state, and you have to be hyperaware of everything to make sure that he doesn’t slip out of your hands and fall, breaking into shatters on the cold floor.

«...This-» he weeps, his back shaken by sobs. «M-me... I-You-»

«Don’t be» you cut him off.

«Don’t ever feel sorry for how you’re feeling. Never» you reassure. A soft kiss is placed on his forehead, and another one on his hand after you slowly, carefully lead it to your lips.

«Did you have-»

«Three»

This time he’s the one who cuts off. He doesn’t want to hear their name, he hates them. He hates them so much, and for you is the same. Watching him in sweat, with tears falling down as he whines lost in his world, the way he can’t breathe in the right way, his lips trembling and his eyes desperate for help but afraid that it will never come, scared and in a world with no light at the end of the dark tunnel: that is what you hate the most in the world.

He hates panick attacks just as much as you do. Fuck them, you think.

Three. One shakes him enough to make him sleep for at least three or four hours after, all of his energies get sucked away in a scary way both mentally and phisically, to imaginewhat he is going through right now makes you hold him even tighter. Thank God that Taehyung and Jimin were free today and stayed here to help him, Jungkook is too afraid to remain home by himself, and honestly you would never leave him alone when he’s scared to death of himself. In the morning, he’s afraid to get up from the bed, because it feels like his only safe space, he doesn’t even dare to go to the kitchen; the only thing he can do is focus on his breathing, you are the one who brings him breakfast, lunch and dinner and help him eat. The idea of a new day already beginning scares him even more because he knows it will be just as shitty as the one before, full of fear for him. Panic and anxiety attacks come and go as if they were the air he exhales and lets out, some of them last longer and are deeper, Jungkook would end up crying in your arms and beg you to stop them. It breaks your heart everytime to not being able to help him just like he wants. You could see the fear in his eyes every time, and even when they finally leave, that shadow won’t. They scare him, so much that he does his best to avoid them, and right now is to just stay in bed. He can’t leave the bed without being swallowed by the anxiety of doing something wrong that will eventually trigger another attack, so he lays still for almost the full day beside of when he needs to go to the bathroom. You usually follow him and wait outside of the door, his cheeks redden every time at the thought of needing you to help him even for something so mere, but he’s thankful that you do. His deepest fear became himself, not being able to control his brain without falling in the arms of panic again. Just the other day he had whispered you that he was afraid of going out of his mind and that if he were destined to live like this for the rest of his life, he would prefer to be dead. The thought made you shiver. You had sweetly kissed his forehead, telling him back that he was all but crazy and that everything will eventually be alright, these are just some obstacles on the road. And you really hope it. The fact that now he’s not safe from attacks anymore not even in his sleep scares him even more.

«I’ll stop talking then,» you caress his neck, so incredibly warm that for a moment you think he might have had catched a fever too «you-»

«Please, don’t» his head slightly raises from its place in the crook of your neck, eyes looking at you. They look so tired, exhausted, spent, weary.

«Please talk to me, I want to hear your voice»

Your lips meet his forehead, pressing to it as if it was your lifeline. Jungkook’s eyes shut close, the feeling of something familiar warming up his chest just the slightest, he tells himself that maybe he could live with this sensation. It certainly would be better than being scared and breathless, with your brain playing tricks on you. It would be a hundred times better to live with this sensation, not tingling or burning hot but slightly calm and still, like a caress but really light. The one of the one hundred percent. This is enough to make him feel better, just the slightest. A speak of dust in the desert, but at least is something. It’s warm, familiar.

«I would need a million words if I tried to define all the things you mean to me»

Jungkook opens his eyes, watery again. His lips tremble, breath stuck as he looks at you with him emotions on full display, fragility at its peak.

«For you I’d die a thousand lives» you whisper. And God, you mean it. You never meant it more than now saying it in front of him, for his eyes and his heart.

«Special kind of energy, cause love is born when hearts collide» you go on. And by now, Jungkook knows what you’re doing.

«Is this-»

«Ssh» you caress his cheek trying to make him relax just a little bit. «Every time you touch me you remind me that I’m still alive»

Jungkook loses it as he looks at you while you say those words, the same that you’ve been reminding him of for all these minutes, this morning, yesterday night after you witnessed his state for all these days.

He doesn’t care if he’s feeling lightheaded or if the feelings in his chest are so deep and make him feel such in a haze that it will eventually lead him towards another panic attack. He needs you, he needs to feel alive again, to feel reassured and loved more than ever.

His lips meet yours, not in a soft peck like the ones you’ve been giving him in these last days. A kiss that makes his blood boil in his veins and his mind in a haze, not because it’s vicious or promises something more but because is full of promises of happy endings and limitless fondness, a kiss that would take away all his pain and give it to you if it was possible. That is what makes him wish he was able to give you more. He swears that he never felt something as soft as your lips, he never believed in a place as much as he believes in your embrace, he never loved someone as much as he loves you, he never felt more alive then now. You can feel his emotions on your lips, in your mouth; his fragility, the way he’s desperately trying to let himself go and how he hopes, how he believes that you will help him in doing so and will take good care of him if he succeeds, the bitter taste of the fear of being this fragile to himself, of feeling something that might be too much too handle for now.

It’s like giving his first kiss, it’s just like the first time. It’s new and Jungkook almost feels like he’s not enough because he knows he can’t give you more, and the thought makes his heart clench in pain. But you don’t care, and if he’s willing to give you ten then you’ll take five, because you don’t want to exhaust him. That’s the reason why you part from him, slowly.

Jungkook loves you, so deeply and profoundly. And you read it on his face as he parts from your lips and rests his head on your chest, his low lidded eyes keeping their stare on you.

«My heart is beating so fast» he whines, breath already itching, voice full of panic and fear.

«Bad fast or good fast?»

«Both» he shuts his eyes again. He’s going to have another panic attack, he can recognize it, he feels it coming, and you know it too just by that shadow in had in in his eyes before closing them. A mix of desperation and anger towards himself to not being able to control it.

At least, I’m still alive, Jungkook thinks. Even though, beside from that span of time when his lips met yours and he felt like he was doing the right thing, he is not that sure that it worths it.

Maybe tomorrow I can live a moment like that again, it’s the thought he tries to keep in mind as his breath itches more and more.

[tbartss]

Well since you asked so nicely, here is everything I wrote so far :’))

There was one memory Lance kept going back to whenever the world around him seemed too real. It was a long time ago, but he remembered it like it was yesterday.

He was back in Cuba, sitting on his surfboard on the mellow waves, his knees on either side as he stared up at the stars. He was 10 years old, and had yet to hear about the phenomenal school that was the Galaxy Garrison that would spark the beginning of his destiny. Now he was just a simple, normal citizen of Cuba, riding the dancing water and tracing the lights in the sky with his Tìo.

His tio, for all his remarkable self, was a strange man, and Lance had always thought so. It wasn’t in the way he spoke or gestures or walked or anything like that. It was in the things he said, sometimes, to seemingly just Lance.

Once he had thrown Lance one look and said, “I have only one debt, and that is to the stars.” What he had been doing to make him say that was the part he didn’t remember, but it wasn’t the important part.

His tio was his mother’s brother, but even she couldn’t make sense to what he was saying. When he had asked Raquel if she had heard him say anything like that, she’d shaken her head and looked at him as if he was crazy.

“You probably just dreamt it.” She’d said, but Lance was sure it hadn’t been his imagination.

“No way! My dreams are nothing like that.”

“You can’t control your dreams, tonto. Besides, Tio hardly ever speaks, and for him to say something like that is just downright loco.”

But Lance wasn’t convinced. He hadn’t really noticed until then that Rachel was right about one things though. His tio hardly ever spoke, but Lance had just chalked that up to adulthood. He had thought that the more you grew up, the less you needed to say. But now that he thought about it, his mother didn’t seem to hold back on any words whatsoever. Not to mention the very expressive way she spoke with her hands, that Lance had inherited. It was hardly believable that they were related.

“The stars are calling you again, eh?” He said now, staring at Lance, who was in turn staring at the stars. It was one of his favourite pass times, and his tio was one of his favourite people to do it with.

He wanted to ask what he meant, but he knew it was no use. Ever since Raquel had come with that comment, he’d begun to see that his tio was a man of few words. Lance had never heard him repeat himself and he knew it was futile to ask him of it now.

He’d said to Lance once, when he’d held a gun for the first time, that a man should think like he only has one bullet left in his holster. “One target. One shot. Once you pull the trigger there is no going back.” He was starting to think he wasn’t only applying that to his shooting.

So, Lance shrugged as an answer to his question. When his tio got like this, usually late into the night, Lance didn’t know what to say to him, most of the time. It was like he expected something from Lance, but Lance had no idea what, much less how to give it to him.

Nevertheless his tio nodded sagely, like Lance’s shrug told him everything he couldn’t say with words. His feet were wading the water under them calmly, causing small ripples that rocked Lance a little, like a soothing lullaby. He asked, “Leandro, how do they make you feel?”

Lance tore his eyes from the constellation his mother had named Orion, tilting his head. “Huh?” But it was useless, he knew, because his tio, instead of repeating himself, turned back to the night sky.

His eyes turned soft, and he breathed deep as if he could smell the galaxy from here if only he breathed deep enough.

Lance, feeling again like his tio was expecting something he didn’t know how to give, poked the water a couple of times. Once there, once here. And before he knew it, he was tracing his finger in the same shape as the constellation. The water rippled until his fingers stilled, and Lance saw that the Orion he had drawn was mirrored in the water.

How did the stars make him feel? How would he know? He was ten.

“What am I supposed to feel?” He asked instead, as he started tracing Andromeda in the water. When the image got too blurry he paused his finger to let the water still before he continued.

“You’ll know when you know, Lancito.” His voice was a soft timber in the quiet of the night, and Lance thought about how his tio was probably the closest he came to a father.

He listened to him breathe for a while, feeling a weird sensation in the crest of his chest, tucked somewhere deep inside that he didn’t know how to name. And lance, when he had added the last star to Andromeda, said, “Tio?”

He hummed in answer, not taking his eyes off of the stars.

“How did you know you wanted to work at the range?”

His tio looked at him in question. Just like how he was a man of few words, he also never said anything unnecessary.

Lance swallowed and looked away, suddenly feeling the need to fiddle with his fingers. “It’s just that at school, they asked us what we wanted to be in the future and I have no idea. Raquel knows she wants to be a teacher, and Marco has that internship and Veronica has been at that flying school a million years. But I have no idea what I want to be. What I want to do.” He looked up at his tio desperately, but he was only looking back as if he was deep in thought. “The only thing I’m sorta good at is shooting and fútbol. Do you think I should work with you, at the range?”

His tio seemed suspended in time, his body so still he caused no ripples in the sea below them. The wind carried his hair; it was dark brown, like Lance’s mother’s, like his father’s. Like his own.

And then slowly, his tio shook his head. The wind carried his voice like it would the single petal of a dandelion. He said, “Your place is not here, mijo. I think you know, deep inside you, where you belong.”

And then he said, “There is a part of you that is still sleeping. Once you wake it, that’s when you’ll know.”

He really hated his mysticism sometimes. He wished he could be a little clearer in what he meant, but then he thought about how he would feel if someone wished he could just understand things in a normal way. Lance had noticed he needed the extra step to understand certain things, elaborations if you will, but he didn’t think that’s the part his tio was talking about.

No, when Lance finally understood what his tio had meant, he’d stood on the frontlines of an intergalactic war.

***

When Lance had first laid eyes on the castle he’d thought, now that’s a house. He envisioned himself laid back with his hands resting behind his head, being fed grapes by the very attractive subjects that served him as he kicked back and relaxed like a king. He thought that the castle was his dream in reality, laid out bare for his very own eyes to see.

The other’s hadn’t been as impressed. More likely, they had been scared shitless. When he looked at Keith he saw only stone cold exterior. He bet himself that Keith was thinking the exact same thing he was. Too bad this was Lance’s dream, and he was going to seize it for himself.

The Blue Lion ship had really helped with his confidence. With that machinery, a weapon answering only to his command, he was basically unstoppable. He had the world at his feet, the stars in his hair. No one, not even Keith, could take that from him.

Shiro had taken charge, but he was okay with that. He knew what he was doing, and honestly, what is a dream without some comrades to die for, right? He had his best friend, his midget of a communications officer, and his rival in the same boat. There was no adventure, if he had no one to share it with.

The others looked around while Lance tinkered with the central controls in the room they were in. He pushed a few buttons and then laid his hand on the handprint, almost missing the hissing machinery that resulted from his improvising.

And boy, did he want to share his dreams.

When he had first laid eyes on Allura, a falling princess, landing in his arms, he’d thought, now that’s a woman. He envisioned them both sitting together, laughing together, standing at the alter as his family cheered him on, and Lance was wearing the biggest smile in the universe, really, NASA could capture it with their satellite. He thought that Allura was his dream come true, a fair maiden falling into his arms.

She was like a memory pulled from his mind.

A strong one, and quite hurtful.

“Ow, ow, ow! Careful, my skin is very delicate!”

The princess did not let up her hold on his ear, and he tried not to hear the snigger he knew was coming from Pidge.

***

“This castle must be ancient.” The hallways were so empty and wide his voice was carried across the distance. He whistled to test out the acoustics. He heard his own tune for another ten seconds before it disappeared further down the hall.

“100.000 years to be exact!” Coran said cheerily behind him. His voice carried far, too.

The first tour around the castle wasn’t very impressive. All of the doors were closed and it looked like no one had walked down these halls forever — which he supposed no one had, now that he thought about it. The control panels and light bulbs beside and above every door, respectively, were covered in dust.

With Allura walking down the hall in front of them though, the light turned on, running like veins horizontically along the wall until the hallway disappeared beyond the eye could see. These hallways were massive. Lance thought it’d be quite lonely for only two people.

“Amazing,” Pidge gushed, staring unblinkingly at the lights that turned on. Allura looked over her shoulder to smile kindly at him.

Hunk squinted at the lights, too, and poked them with his pointer finger. “How exactly does that work? I don’t see any electricity outlets.”

Coran laughed loudly, the sound of his merry filling the entire hallway. Lance thought it sounded a bit like his tio. “Oh, the simple human and their wonders,” he said. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “The castle’s power source, my young earthling, is connected to Allura’s energy. She is the only one who can control this ship and everything in it with her alchemy.”

“Alchemy?” Pidge piped up, sidling alongside Coran. “As in equivalent exchange?”

“Wait, wait, wait. How were we then able to get in with the Lion ship?” Hunk asked, touching the light along the walls.

Honestly, Lance was getting bored with their conversation. Blah, blah, something about Altean magic, and ancient knowledge, whatever. What Lance wanted to know was what was behind all of these doors. There were so many, Lance doubted each of them housed an Altean court person back in the day.

He walked to the nearest door and squinted at the control panel beside it. The inscription was in Altean, which he obviously couldn’t read, but there was also a very big red button. He wondered if…

The doors whooshed open the second he pressed the button on the panel. Inside was what Lance would assume was the Altean equivalent of a broom closet. It was bigger than his house. Like massive. How many bathrooms was the toilet paper in this closet supposed to cover?

He turned around to keep walking, when he stopped in his tracks. Everyone was staring at him.

At the sound of the doors opening, Coran had stopped talking immediately about something or other, Lance wasn’t really paying attention. Allura was also looking at him and the door, seeming in shock.

Lance raised his arms and took two steps away from the door. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t do anything.”

No one said a word, for a while. Shiro was looking between Coran and Allura, probably to try and figure out what they were thinking, or if this had been inappropriate somehow. Keith looked about ready to downright murder Lance.

After some time of staring very intensely at Lance, Coran hummed and stroked his moustache. “The controls must be rustier than I thought. It has been 10.000 years…” he muttered, more to himself than anyone. He must have decided it wasn’t worth mulling over, his wrist flicking like he was swatting the topic away. “Anyway,” he continued walking, “so the crystals in this castle…”

And that was that. Allura and Coran kept walking, and Shiro, sensing there were no consequences happening, started to walk, too, prompting everyone else to follow his lead.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief, and made sure to close the door before he followed with them.

“Stop touching stuff, you’re going to get us in trouble,” Keith hissed beside him. He must have slowed his pace to Lance’s. Just to tell him off? Tch, Lance didn’t think so.

“Relax, Mullet,” he answered and pocketed his hands in his jeans. “These people aren’t going to harm us. I mean, look at how gorgeous— I mean forgiving the princess was.”

“We’re in the middle of space with flying cat ships that are controlled by the very people that could incinerate us in a matter of seconds, or did you forget?” He added, “And it’s not a mullet!”

Lance shrugged. “Ay, stop being so paranoid. If you tighten up any more you’ll probably die a non-heroic death by boredom.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“And that will be your downfall. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

***

*lance and hunk sneaking out of the garrison to go clubbing. Lance stops and stares at the stars. Maybe something happened earlier with Keith.*

“You okay, man?”

“Huh? Yea, was just thinking of something my uncle said once.”

“About space? Whatd he say?”

“I don’t even know, man, he didn’t make a lot of sense. It doesn’t matter, let’s go meet some girls WOO!!”

***

“How do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what? I’m just pressing buttons.”

“Yeah, that open doors that aren’t supposed to open.”

“Maybe the castle just likes me the best.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Enough talk. Let’s swim, mullet! I’ll race ya!”

***

The thing about the Galra is that they are both persistent and resourceful, and when you mix those two things together, they become near unstoppable. It was probably why their reign had lasted for as long as it did.

[cherriesfineline]

MEET HALFWAY OUR NEEDS - one shot

a/n: hi! this is my first time ever posting one of my writings online (I'm about to shit myself but oh well). I literally wrote this so fast I'm impressed, but anyways I (kind of) proof read this -not really- just quickly read through it after I finished it. English isn't my first language (I'm so self conscious I'm probably gonna say that every time I post something) but besides that, I really hope you enjoy this <3 feedback is truly appreciated, it helps me improve!

-Joey

Pairing: Harry x Y/N

Warnings: detailed sexual content

Word count: 9.2k (of mostly smut??? sorry)

the one where Harry wants to get married but Y/N doesn't.

As you grow older, you start realizing life isn't as easy as it seemed when you were a kid. Not everyone gets lucky enough to have a job they're passionate about. Not everyone can satisfy all their necessities. In fact, you realize it's most people instead of "not everyone".  Friendships and relationships won't last you a lifetime (those promises of being there for each other forever now seem like genuine naiveness) if you don't put enough effort in them. When you are young you believe that being able to play for hours straight without getting bored is what true friendship is about. And maybe it is, during those years.  Adult relationships require a lot of time, and effort. And sometimes, sacrifice. Conversations have a different weight, and being able to trust someone with your most uneasy thoughts and experiences is hard. To find and to keep.  When it comes to love, you start realizing that the thrill and intensity of teen romance isn't what true love is about. It's not about getting into fights, hardcore jealousy and toxicity behaviors. It's about being able to just be there, with that someone. Being able to coexist in each other's worlds, share what you're passionate about without any fear or remorse, being able to communicate. To ask for help when needed. Now, that doesn't mean things can't get complicated.  For the past two months, Y/N and Harry's relationship has been balancing on a very, extremely, thin line.  After six years of being together, and three of those living together, being the happiest they've ever been, everything started to look different for Harry. He was ready to take a step Y/N wasn't.  Harry always knew he wanted to get married, have kids, move to a pretty house outside New York (it's been his favorite city ever since he visited when he was 12, then moving all the way across the globe from Manchester to attend Columbia University). And when he met Y/N, he knew she was the one he wanted all that with. But Y/N... she wasn't so sure that was the life she wanted. Having kids was a no at least until she was in her 30's. And even then, she knew she'd have to re consider if that's what she really wanted.  She loves kids, she has a couple nieces a nephew's (coming from a big family has it's perks) and she's a preschool teacher. She's good with kids, but she wasn't so sure she'd be a great mother. Not for a specific reason, but she really feels like that's the case. Taking care of someone else's kids versus your own is extremely different. Now... it gets even more complicated when it comes to marriage. She doesn't believe that a piece of paper kept in a legal's office will make any changes in their relationship. It will all stay the same, married or not, so she just doesn't think it's important, nor worth the money.  Harry, on the other hand, thinks marrying her will change everything in his life. For the better. He loves her more than he'll ever be able to put into words. And because he can't put it into words, he feels like it's the actions, small and big, that help him communicate his love a bit better.  He still remembers the moment he mentioned marriage to her (not for the first time, but definitely the first time he actually thought 'ok i really want to marry her right now') like it happened yesterday. He remembers exactly what it felt like to physically feel his heart shatter inside his chest, and the way he silently cried himself to sleep that night with Y/N in his arms.  "Would you ever, uh... consider g-getting married? like, I don't know, if we ever have, like, an actual conversation about it, would you consider it?" He asked her in the middle of their Lord of the Rings marathon.  Harry could feel her intense staring at the side of his face. She was quiet for so long, it killed him. He truly wanted the cushions of their pink couch to just suck him inside the furniture piece.  He wouldn't dare to turn his face. He couldn't look at her, no. Not to face the rejection of his lifetime.  "Uh, I don't think so." She said, and Harry only nodded, thinking the conversation was over

once he felt her move her head to face the television again. "You know how I feel about you and how I feel about marriage. I honestly think it's useless. You don't need a signed paper to know how much I love you, Harry." Her tone was soft, but the words that left her mouth felt like a million knives inside his chest.  That conversation sent him spiraling over a thousand thoughts, overthinking their entire relationship and how he now felt like they were getting nowhere with it.  He respected her decision, though. That's why he didn't bring it up again.  Y/N sensed his mood change that same night. She kept her mouth shut, because she truly didn't know what to say. She didn't understand where he was coming from, or why it was so important to him. At first, she didn't think his mood was affected because of her not wanting to get married, maybe he had something else going on and was struggling to talk about it, but after many sessions with her therapist going over and over their conversations and trying to decipher why everything was so weird between them, she came to the conclusion it might have to do with them not getting married.  She just didn't want it. And she didn't know how to make him understand. But she couldn't lose him either. He was her everything. It took her months to be able to sit next to him like she did the night he was watching The Little Mermaid in the living room of their small New York apartment.  It's been months since they last shared a movie night, or a date. They've been eating dinner while having awkward small talk about their jobs and friends, going straight to bed after cleaning everything up, each to their side. They haven't touched each other except the occasional greeting peck ever since that night. And it was killing both of them, but neither knew how to approach the other.  As she sat down to his right, she saw him tense immediately. It broke her, to see him so on guard around her. Y/N couldn't look away from him, with her body facing him and her head rested on the back of the couch, she wanted to grab his hand so badly, but she didn't know if he'd reject her.  The doorbell rang, and he looked at her for the first time that night. His eyebrows had the cutest frown and she wanted to kiss his forehead to make him relax, but of course, she didn't.  She sent him a shy smile and stood up, going straight to the door and picking up the cash she left prepared on the little table next to it. She could feel his stare burning holes in her back, which sent chills down her spine.  "Thank you so much." Harry heard Y/N say, immediately hearing the door shut. From where he was sitting he didn't have a clear view on who was on the other side of the door. Y/N made her way to their kitchen (to do God knows what, Harry thought) only to appear seconds after with two tubes of ice cream (from his favorite place) and two big spoons.  She sat back down next to him with her legs under her, a little closer than moments ago but still out of Harry's reach.  She handed him one of the tubes, and Harry immediately noticed it was chocolate chip mint, his favorite, he might add. He looked up at her, who gave him a small shrug of her shoulders and a side smile, and he couldn't help but smile widely at her, his deep dimples on full display.  God, I missed those dimples so bad. Y/N thought.  But what she didn't know is that Harry was thinking about how much he missed her. Entirely. He hated himself for overthinking every small detail, and for thinking so lowly of their future. But he couldn't help it. "Thanks." He shyly took the ice cream and started eating right away. Not five minutes later, he grabbed her by her thigh and dragged her next to him, only to have her close to his body. And because he missed her. And her body heat. And her addictive smell of clean soap and vanilla. And a lot of other things which would take a lifetime to enumerate.  She looked at him from her new spot, and due to the proximity, she had to shift her head slightly up to look at his face. She slid her right arm around his left,

carefully looking at him to see any kind of reaction that might show discomfort, and when she noticed his smirk slowly and barely making an appearance, she relaxed next to him, fitting half of her body under his arm, with his elbow resting on her stomach and her head on his upper arm. Half way through the movie, with their ice cream tubes forgotten on their coffee table, Y/N looked back up to him, and even though she's been doing it every two minutes, Harry knew she wanted to say something this time. He doesn't look at her, though, thinking it might shy her away, but right when he was trying to concentrate back on the film, he heard her say something.  It was barely audible, almost like she didn't want him to hear it. Did he imagine it? Maybe he's so deprived from her and her touch and her words that he's finally going insane.  Harry looked at her this time, and looking straight at her grey eyes so closely for the first time in two months felt like a thousand fireworks exploding violently on his stomach.  "Did you say something?" He looked at her confused, and the look on her eyes is so hard to decipher he thinks she definitely said something she's scared to repeat.  "I miss you." Y/N repeated herself, barely louder. But then he knew for sure he didn't imagine it.  His Y/N missed him. For so long Harry thought he was losing her, that after distancing himself from her she finally realized she not only didn't want marriage, but a relationship with him at all. But she missed him. And he missed her.  "You miss me?" He asked, almost like he didn't believe her, his tone was low and his voice sounded deeper that ever.  Y/N nodded, but she felt pathetic. She felt like he didn't miss her like she missed him, maybe he didn't miss her at all. For two months she's been feeling like he wanted out, that this relationship felt like an obligation to him.  Harry felt her slowly sliding away from his arms, and that's when he realized he's been so stuck in his head he still hadn't replied.  "Don't," he quickly grabbed her by her thigh with his hand closest to her body "please, don't go." She stayed still in her place, looking at him with soft but sad eyes. "I miss you so much, Y/N." Harry turned on his spot so he's facing her, and softly cupped her jaw with his free hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "You have no idea." He whispered, slowly getting her face close to his while closing his eyes. He kissed her forehead so lovingly she literally burst into tears. Y/N's soft sobs alarmed Harry, lifting her head up by his hold on her jaw. "Please, don't cry baby. It breaks me when you cry."  Y/N shifted on her place so she was with her body facing the back of the couch, her knees pressed against it, but she tilted her body to the side so she could hug Harry. She slowly draped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest.  A sigh of relief left Harry's lips, resting his chin on top of her head while he hugged her back. One of his arms was resting low on her back, while the other one rested on her shoulder, his giant hand cupping her head to softly caress her hair.  They stayed in that position for a long time. Y/N could feel Harry's heartbeat, and how it slowly picked up speed when she pressed her lips to his chest. And even though he was wearing a shirt, Harry could feel the heat of her lips through it. He pressed his own lips on top of her head, leaving them there for a while, almost like a very long, still kiss, until he felt her head shift underneath his lips. He pulled away just barely to allow her to look up at him, and when she noticed him quickly looking down to her lips, she stretched her neck up to press their lips together.  It was a short, very sweet kiss. With fear as an undertaste and nervousness written all over her. She was just scared he was going to leave.  When she pulled away from him, she didn't have time to open her eyes as she felt Harry press their lips together again. This second kiss was almost the same as the first one, insecure.  It's funny, if you think about it. How similar their

feelings were and how scared they were of messing everything up with a single wrong move.  Once Harry pulled away from the kiss he initiated, they locked eyes, yet again. But this time, it was written all over their faces how badly they missed each other, and how much they dreaded to feel the effects each had on one another after so long.  The third kiss they shared, it's initiated from both sides, almost as they were able to read each other's minds. Their lips moved in sync, and as Harry softly captured Y/N's bottom lip between his own to slightly suck on it, she put more pressure into it. The kiss slowly started to gain force, passion and need. But she was scared to take the next step. She wanted him to take the full lead, as opposed to what they were used to, just because she didn't want him to feel like he owed her anything.  And then, he did take that step. The hand he had holding her jaw moved under her hair to grab her by the neck, while slowly tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, asking for access to her mouth. And once she allowed their tongues to meet, his hold on her lower back got stronger, draping his arm completely around her waist to pull her closer. That action made Y/N's body lift up from how strong he was holding her, and she took this as a sign to move. She straddled him on the couch, sinking (almost on slow motion) to sit on top of his thighs. Harry groaned in frustration. She's too far away, he thought.  "Closer." He said in a pleading tone, and Y/N complied immediately. She slid her body up his thighs, and he forced her chest to collide with his. The hand that was holding her neck slowly traced her entire spine, to join his other one on her lower back.  Her tongue felt so warm and soft, so inviting. He had always loved the way she kissed him, with so much passion but with a gentleness that was so her. She managed to fully relax in his hold once her hands found their way to his hair, right behind his ears, and he couldn't help but whimper at the feeling of their groins pressing together.  This sparked a burning fire inside both of them. A fire that burned so good they'd rather die caught on it, than to never feel it again.  Harry slowly slid his hands up and down her sides, all the way from her outer thighs to her side boobs. And when he did it for the second time, on his way up he slid his hands under her shirt instead of continuing their path over it. When his hands stopped at the higher part of their path, he caressed her side boobs with his thumbs, doing the same afterwards right below them, and when she finally grinded down on him, letting a deep groan leave her lips, he cupped her breasts with his hands.  But when she pulled away, he dropped his hands automatically.He started eating his brains out thinking he really messed up, he was taking things down a road she didn't want to take yet, which was okay, it's not like he only wanted her body back, but he was scared he made her uncomfortable.  Only then, his dick grew incredibly hard when she grabbed the hem of her oversized t-shirt to pull it up and off her body. Her perfectly perky boobs bounced slightly when Y/N dropped her shirt on the floor, resting her arms on her sides.  He looked up from the lovely sight of her boobs thinking about how badly he wanted to devour them, only to find her with an uncertain look on her face. And he hated it. He hated the thought of her doubting herself so much.  Harry ran his hands up and down her soft stomach, and then slid them up, softly but barely touching her boobs. His destination was somewhere else (for now), and he grabbed Y/N by her neck to pull her close.  Their lips met again in the softest kiss they shared that night so far, and Y/N melted in Harry's arms like the forgotten ice cream behind her. He kissed the corner of her lips as he pulled her hair slightly so he could start kissing her jawline, down to her neck, leaving pepper kisses all over her skin.  When he reached her collarbone he started sucking and biting (she loved when he bit her) knowing he couldn't do it to her neck

due to her job. She let a moan leave her lips, and when Harry slid one of his hands to grab her by her hip, she grinded down on him again, with more confidence this time.  Harry lowered his face a bit more so he could finally reach one of his favorite features of his Y/N, her boobs. He took her left breast in his mouth, sucking on Y/N's nipple, making her whimper and jerk forward, tightening her hold on his brown locks to pull him even closer. He slid the hand that was holding Y/N's hair down so he could pay attention to both nipples at the same time, while using his hand on her hip to keep a steady peace to her grinding. Once she caught up with the slow but rough peace he wanted, he let go of Y/N's hip to grab the nipple he had in his mouth with in his hand, and he pinched both of them at the same time, rolling the hard buds on his fingers, then moving his mouth to the other one.  He spent a lot of time paying attention to Y/N's nipples, nibbling, sucking, groping, knowing damn well they were extremely sensitive (she could orgasm just by nipple stimulation if done correctly, but she really wanted him right now). Y/N pulled from his hair enough to let him know she wanted something else, and when he let her nipple fall from his mouth, he looked straight into her eyes.  Harry's cheeks were tinted a pretty shade of pink, and Y/N couldn't help but admire the beautiful man under her.  He looked at her with such pure eyes, but lustful at the same time. She didn't understand how he could look so innocent but so fucking hot at the same time, it was unfair how angelic he was.  She grabbed a handful of his shirt, to let him know she wanted it off. Once Harry complied, throwing his shirt somewhere near Y/N's, he immediately reached for her cream silk shorts, tugging the elastic band down as a silent plea for her to get out of them for him.  She stood up from the couch, knowing Harry loved when she undressed herself for him, and still in between his legs holding eye contact, she slowly slid her shorts down her thighs along with her underwear.  Harry couldn't keep eye contact for long, though. His eyes were glued to her glistening core that was slowly making an appearance, and he was getting frustrated at how slow she was being.  He sat straighter on the couch so he could reach for her, and slid his hands down the front of her thighs, and on their way up he slowly slid them to their insides, getting close to where she wanted him. He slid one of his hands down again, but this time he grabbed her right leg from behind her knee, to pull it up. He made her rest her feet outside his thigh, which was now in between her legs. In this new position he got a clear view of her pretty pussy, all on display for him.  "So wet, baby." He whispered, and she couldn't help but return her hold on his hair to pull him closer to her. "All for me?" Harry asked her, looking up to stare at her right in the eyes. When she nodded, he hummed in response. "Let me take care of you, it's been so long. You probably need it so much, don't you?" His voice was so fucking deep and raspy she nodded desperately in response. Y/N couldn't handle much teasing, and she let Harry know by tightening her grip yet again, and forcing his face to be so close she could feel his breathing on her.  "Please, Harry." She pleaded. Harry loved teasing her, but he knew it's been a long time, he didn't want to frustrate her much.  He finally licked very slowly up her folds, all the way from her opening to her clit, humming when he reached her sensitive bundle of nerves. Y/N let out a long sigh of pleasure, her eyelids fluttering shut. She felt like she could literally come just by that, and when he closed his lips around her clit, she grind her hips against his lips. He started switching between sucking and pressing his tongue on her clit until he started to move it, creating undefined figures with the tip of his tongue.  They missed each other so much, so so much. And they both knew sex wouldn't magically fix everything. They knew they needed to work things out. But

sometimes conversation needs a little push, something to remind them why they need to fix things. The magnetic pull they felt towards each other was unbearably strong. They needed each other, in every imaginable way, but at that moment, they needed each other's bodies and emotion, no words needed. Just feel each other close.  Harry gave her clit a sweet kiss, and looked up at her while his fingers traveled up and down her folds, until they found their home in her opening. He searched her eyes for approval, and when she whispered a soft 'please' he slowly sank his ring and middle finger, knuckle deep. She whimpered loud at the sudden pressure, and he groaned at the tightness of her hole.  He rested his forehead on her navel for a second to let her adjust, and when he felt her grind on his fingers, he held her gaze while lining his mouth with her clit yet again. Harry started to work his fingers in and out of her, sucking on her clit. But what turned him on the most was her slow grinding on his face and fingers, like she was fucking his fingers nstead of his fingers fucking her.  Harry used his free arm to slide it under her leg that was up on the couch, and grabbed her ass with a tight grip to pull her even closer.  The pleasure was beginning to feel overwhelming, the pressure deep down on her belly begging for release was making her desperate. Y/N's moans and breathy sighs were becoming louder and consistent and the way he could feel her legs slightly shaking gave away how close she was to her release.  Harry wanted her to make a mess on his face, so badly. He lowered his head and replaced his fingers with his tongue, not before he moved his fingers one last time to massage her spongy spot at the front of her insides. He fucked her with his tongue as he used his soaked fingers to stimulate her clit, circling in the fast and rough peace he knew she enjoyed so much.  Her insides felt like a rocket about to launch, between his moans sending vibrations through her entire body and his fingers stimulating her clit the way she exactly needed, she became a moaning mess. Y/N couldn't comprehend how she was still standing up, even though Harry's arm under her thigh was holding most of her weight up, her knees were about to give up soon.  "H-Harry, I'm so close," Y/N spoke as clearly as possible, knowing her panting was messing with her words, "please don't stop." He admired the way her jaw tightened and relaxed, her mouth opening shortly after, making a perfect 'o' with her eyes pressed shut.  With one specific movement of Harry's tongue, she finally let go. With her eyes rolling back she let a couple of continuous 'fuck's quickly leave her mouth. Her entire body jolted forwards, bending a bit over him while his mouth was still attached to her core, helping her ride her orgasm, making it last for as long as possible.  Y/N pulled Harry away from her with her grip on his hair once it became too much, and looked down at him. Without a second thought she bent down to lock her lips on his, with so much force it threw him back into his original seated position on the couch.  "Take your pants off, now." She demanded, but adding an almost inaudible 'please', mostly for her. He happily obliged, taking his boxers down with them, imitating her previous actions. His cock sprung free, and he hissed at the feeling of freedom. Harry was so focused on her he didn't realize how painfully hard he was. He could feel his own heartbeat thundering in his chest with so much force it was almost alarming. He needed her so, so badly. Once his pants and boxers were thrown and forgotten on the floor, she straddled him.  Giving him a quick but soft kiss on the lips, she began making her way down his neck, reaching back up again to (what she knew) was his most sensitive spot behind his ear. Y/N sucked a small bruise, and he whimpered. God, Y/N loved those small noises he made. She kissed her favorite beauty mark on the right side where his neck meets his shoulder, and that small action alone made his heart feel like someone was squeezing and

twisting it. He missed those small loving details from her.  Y/N kept making her way down his chest, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses all over him, not forgetting to suck and nibble at his nipples. She loved taking care of him. All of him. And the way he enjoyed her playing with his nipples was something he was always scared of admitting, but he knew he didn't have to ask her to do it, because she just knew.  She sunk down to her knees, still sucking and licking the skin all over his stomach while caressing his thighs (Oh, those thighs). Y/N finally grabbed his dick and slowly stroked him all the way from his base to the tip, collecting some of the precum leaking from his deep pink, swollen head. He groaned loudly, lifting his hips to fuck her fist once. She took that as a sign to lower her head even more, his cock now in front of her face.  "Want my mouth, baby?" She tapped her plump lips with his tip, and when he looked down at her, she moved her closed lips around him, almost like she was using his precum as lipgloss, her hand still slowly moving up and down his length. She got him hypnotized. "Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at him.  "Y-yes, please." He heavily sighed. His begging made her drip down her thighs, he knew how much she loved it, and she knew he loved begging too, maybe even more than her. She always took such good care of him.  She swirled her tongue around his tip once, then proceeded to lick up his shaft a couple of times like his dick was an ice lolly. Once she finally wrapped her lips around his tip, he sighed in relief, and relaxed his shoulders. Harry's hands grabbed her neck to pull her head down, and she surprised him when she suddenly deep throated him before even working her way there.  "Fucking hell, Y/N." He moaned when he felt her humming around him. Harry grabbed her hair making a shift ponytail, to help her get her hair out of the way, and using his grip on it to lift her head, her mouth left his dick, and he smirked at the small pout on her lips. "You are so perfect." She ignored him and tried to lean forward again, which made him smile at how desperate she was. He let her get what she wanted, allowing her lips to wrap around his tip again. She licked up his slit and swirled her tongue around him, and hollowed her cheeks to suck on his tip. She took more of him in her mouth, using her right hand to work on his base and her left to gently cup his balls and play with them.  Harry knew he wouldn't last long. It's been a while since they've done anything remotely sexual, and his hand... his hand wasn't her. So even though he could get himself off, nothing in the world would compare to how it felt when it was his Y/N pleasing him.  His breathing became irregular as she bobbed her head up and down his length in a steady rhythm, and when she tugged on his balls he knew he had to pull her away right that second, or he would come. And he really wanted to, but not like this.  "Baby, please," he tried to pull her head away with a tug on her ponytail, but she didn't oblige. Instead, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, still bobbing her head up and down on him, and that sight alone could make him come in a heartbeat. But he kept it together. "I wanna come inside you, p-please."  And that made Y/N pull away, her mouth making a 'pop' sound when she let his dick fall from her lips. She then straddled him, her hands finding their home right behind his ears, grabbing him by his hair, while his made their way around her body, hugging her close. His dick fit perfectly between her lips, and Y/N grinded on him to feel his wet cock slide through her folds, creating the most delicious friction. Harry kissed her passionately, trying to pour everything he felt in the kiss. And Y/N did feel it, because she was trying to do the same. They repeated the action a couple of times until she reached in between them to grab a hold of him, positioning him on her opening.  And when she finally sank down on him, they locked gazes. They sat still, connected. They were so close. They felt so close.  Harry

nudged her nose with his, softly brushing their lips together. He then noticed a single tear run down her cheek, and reached for her face quickly. Right before it got in her mouth he caught it with his thumb, and she leaned in his touch.  They didn't say a word. Just sat still.  With Harry caressing her cheek, and Y/N looking straight into his eyes. Y/N leaned forward to capture his top lip between hers, leaving the sweetest kiss, repeating the action with his bottom lip. After, she went for the right corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jawline, his pulse point, behind his ear. And repeated the exact same trail on the left side of his face, finishing with his top and bottom lips, one last time before starting to slowly grind and circle her hips on him.  Harry just couldn't stop staring at her. The amount of love and adoration he held in his heart for that woman was beyond words, and actions. And he then understood. He understood that he could live a life without marriage if it meant living it with her. He could handle it. He would get over it.  He involuntarily dropped his head back and shut his eyes with so much force, while hissing through gritted teeth when she finally lifted her weight on her knees, sliding up on his dick until he was almost entirely out, only to sink back down roughly, going so deep it made both of them moan loudly at how tight she was.  She slid one of her hands around his neck to grab him by his chin, forcing him to look at her. Y/N kissed him again, and this time their kiss was messy and desperate, between crashing teeth and loud moans due to her fucking him with all she got.  She let go of Harry's mouth to sit straighter, using his shoulders as support to move faster. This position gave Harry a view he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. He could see his cock, so drenched of her arousal, and her pussy taking him so well. The wet sounds leaving their connected centers were magical, so erotic, accompanied with the small whimpers and moans coming out of her perfect lips.  Harry thought she looked like a fucking goddess, with her round and perky tits bouncing up and down every time her tight pussy took him entirely.  "You're being so good, baby. Letting me fuck you just how I like it." She whispered to him, staring at his heart shaped, swollen lips. The lips she was so addicted to.  "You take such good care of me, angel. Always." He replied, looking into her eyes which were still glued to his lips. She licked her own, and moved forward to crash them against his on another messy kiss.  They both were so close. Harry couldn't understand how he managed to hold his release for so long, but he was proud of himself.  Y/N separated their lips for a moment to make him suck her point and middle finger, which he complied immediately, knowing exactly what she was doing. He then watched her lower her hand between their bodies again, but this time to reach for her clit, where she started to gently rub circles, stimulating herself.  Harry started thrusting up with force, to meet her halfway, tightening his grip around her middle. Y/N bit down his shoulder to stifle a loud moan, which only made Harry thrust faster.  "Please come for me, Y/N, I wanna feel you come all- all around my cock." He managed to plead between breathy whimpers. And it only took a few more thrusts from him to make her insides explode in the most blissful sensation, like electricity running all the way from her belly to her toes. She stiffens in his hold, her inside walls tightening and clenching so hard it almost sends him out of her, making his balls tighten right before he lets go. She could feel him emptying inside her, his spurts of cum filling her up, leaving both of them exhausted, satisfied and utterly fucked.  None of them moved for a while. Y/N's breathing calmed him, almost like a lullaby, and the way Harry was gently stroking her back made goosebumps erupt all over her body.  Without any warning, Harry stood up, making Y/N wrap her legs around him, she hissed through the feeling of his dick moving while still

inside her, and she bit down his shoulder again. She didn't question what he was doing, she didn't care.  Harry sat her down on a cold surface after turning the lights on, and when she opened her eyes she realized he sat her in their bathroom counter. He put some space between them so he could finally look at her again. The fact that they barely spoke during sex today (when they were usually pretty vocal) made everything so... different. Not in a bad way, though. It made them both enjoy sex as the pure performance of just loving someone. No need of crazy positions, weird kinks or edging each other the way they're used to. Just love. The need to feel connected. The need of physically demonstrating each other's love. How they are each other's entire world.  "I'm gonna clean us up, okay?" Harry told her softly, and she only nodded in response. She leaned in to give him a soft kiss, which honestly caught Harry off guard now that the sexual act was over. But made him happy nonetheless. She was scared of him shutting her out again. But he was scared of her getting tired of him.  He knew she was a free soul. She wanted so many things, and settling down to start a family like he wanted to wasn't in her near plans, maybe in her plans at all. And he knew that. He understood it, and he respected it. He just thought about how badly he truly wanted that life with her. He was just scared she would let him go.  They both looked down and hissed the moment he slid out of her. Harry had the perfect view of their mixed cum dripping down her core, making a mess on the marble counter under her. And Y/N saw his dick twitch at the sight, but decided against commenting on it. Even though it made her slightly smirk.  Harry took his time cleaning both of them, and Y/N didn't look away from him. Not even for a second. He lifted her up again and literally sat her down on the toilet so she could pee. They've done this a thousand times, it was normal for them, she wasn't modest about him seeing or listening to her pee.  After they brushed their teeth next to each other, stealing curious looks (especially Harry at Y/N's boobs through the mirror), they went to bed together.  And for the first time in two months, she rested her head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around her.  The only thing she didn't notice was that once Harry knew she was asleep, he couldn't keep it in. He cried himself to sleep that night. But it wasn't any different from what he was used to from the past couple of months.  The only difference was that this time, he knew he'd give up his dreams if it meant he could keep her around.  &  The next morning, Y/N felt something, or someone, shift behind her. She knew it was Harry. His arm was thrown over her waist, resting dangerously close to her boobs (she secretly loved the way Harry seemed obsessed with her boobs) and she could feel his breathing hit the back of her neck.  She hugged his arm closer to her body to let him know she was awake, which made Harry shift even closer, cup her left breast and press his pretty pink and warm lips to her neck.  "Good morning." She said with a breathy laugh, her morning voice was a sound that drove Harry mad. She sounded way too sexy for her (or his) own good.  "Hi." He nuzzled her neck with his nose, "how'd you sleep?" He left another lingering kiss, this time below her ear.  "Amazing. Haven't slept this good in a while." She replied honestly, wiggling her body back towards him so their torsos were pressing together.  "Mhm, me too." He whispered, tightening his hold around her, his morning wood pressing on her lower back. She could already feel the pool of her arousal in between her legs, and when she arched her back so now his dick was pressing against the curve of her ass, he groaned in her ear.  He slowly started to grind himself against her ass, moving down on the bed a bit so he could better his position. And when she grinded back against him, he reached in between them to position himself on her opening. He pushed the tip in, just enough to feel her tight hole around

him.  "Can I?" He asked her to make sure they both wanted this. When she sighed deeply in pleasure and murmured a 'yes', he slowly thrusted into her, both moaning a bunch of profanities.  They both were huge lovers of morning sex. It increased their moods during their days, helped them relax and carry their days with a carefree feeling. So, he fucked her. Hard. Not even close to how loving they were last night. He woke up with an unbeatable energy, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He fucked her in the position they woke up in. He turned her to her stomach and fucked her while (almost) laying completely on top of her (she loved feeling his weight on her) and he fucked her on all fours, only to end up in their initial position, with her back against his chest on their sides, so he could play with her clit to help her come.  That morning they spent it in bed, Y/N made them breakfast, Harry read a book. They both knew they needed to talk, but they wanted to enjoy some time where everything felt normal between them again. So they avoided the topic.  But the conversation they owed each other kept being pushed. And for another two months, everything slowly started to feel normal again.  Usually, avoiding conversation will lead up to more hurting. But with Y/N and Harry, it ended up becoming a realization point.  Harry got in terms with the fact they wanted different things. He decided she was worth anything and everything in the world, because she was his world. But what he didn't know was that Y/N spent those entire two months imagining what a life like the one Harry wanted with her would be like.  And after one day, on Harry's 28th birthday, during a small walk they were taking on Central Park, she realized she would do anything in the world to make him the happiest man he could ever be. She kissed him so passionately that day, interrupting their walk. He looked at her with a confused look when she pulled away with the brightest smile on her face. But that smile made him confirm he was willing to give up his dream of getting married.  That's why in mid February, Y/N found herself shopping in a very expensive jewelry store. She knew Harry liked that place since his 'H' and 'S' rings were from there. They had an amazing section of handmade rings that she spent a long time going through. She wanted to pick the best one she could find.  She found the prettiest, most fine silver ring with a red stone adorning it's top. She knew he would love it. It definitely didn't look like the typical engagement ring, but nothing about Harry was typical. It would match the rest of his rings lovingly, and Y/N knew he would simply love it. Not only because it was a pretty ring, but because it would mean something big for them.  Three days later, Y/N came back from work to find Harry sitting on their living room couch watching the forecast. Why? Who the fuck knows. He never watched cable TV.  Y/N just stood there for a while, just staring at him.  "Hi, love." He greeted her. "Are you alright?" He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. The crease between them made an appearance, even though it was there most of the time.  "Hey." She finally moved, dropped her keys on the little bowl sitting on top of the small table in the hallway. "All good, gonna put some comfy clothes on really quick." She lied. She just couldn't wait any longer. Watching him sit there all frustratingly beautiful doing absolutely nothing was fucking annoying, it was so unfair how beautiful he was. She had an entire evening prepared but she just couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to do it now.  She dropped her purse on their bed and quickly got rid of her shoes, but didn't change into anything comfier. She just grabbed the small black velvet box from her t-shirt drawer and went back to the living room, sliding it in the back pocket of her jeans so he wouldn't be able to see it.  Harry looked at her with a confused look, wondering why she was still in her work clothes walking directly to him when she said she wanted to change.  She sunk to her knees in

between his legs, which only made him even more confused. "You sure you're alright?" Harry gently asked her. She just hummed in response and grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table (moving as little as possible, she didn't want him seeing the small bump on her jeans because she knew he would ask about it), and turned back around.  She rested her ass on her ankles, and her arms on top of his thighs. "So..." she started.  "So..." Harry repeated, confused.  "I love you, so very much." Y/N started and Harry's breath got caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting this at all. "So much, you don't even understand." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. They haven't told they loved each other in so long, scared of the other not saying it back. God only knows why, because it was clear as water they still loved each other with their whole beings. "And I know we both always wanted different things."  This is it. Harry thought. She's breaking up with me.  "And I know there are some things I believe that you will never understand, and there are some things I- I didn't understand, for a long time." Harry furrowed her eyebrows further at this last part. Now he truly didn't understand what she was trying to say. "For so long I thought I wanted something, you know? Like I was sure I had it all figured out for myself, the life I wanted. But I actually- I was searching for a life that wasn't mine. And I didn't realize that what I already have is everything I could possibly want." Y/N's cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down her face so fast they were drenching his hands that were now pressed against her cheeks, softly caressing them. "I know now, that love is about finding common ground. Meeting each other's needs. And sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to do that. And I came to a conclusion." She swallowed the big lump on her throat, and that finally allowed her to let a long breath leave her chest. "I love you more than anything in this world. I hope you know that, and I know I struggle sometimes with letting you know how much I adore and admire all of you. But I promise to do my best today, and for the rest of my life, to make sure you know how loved you are. How much I'm willing to do for you. And this took me a while to understand, but I do now. I understand why you felt like you needed to take that 'next step' with us. And I understand why it'd make you as happy as you always said. So, it'd make me really happy to ask you to," Y/N reached her pocket and heard him gasp when she pulled the box in front of him, revealing a beautiful ring for him, "marry me." Harry was speechless. Truly, ultimately speechless. Not only was the love of his life asking him to marry her, she was saying she truly wanted this. Harry's gaze kept going from the ring back to her eyes. And after a while of no one saying anything, Y/N cleared her throat. "H," she whispered, "Will you marry me?" She asked, the soft tone on her voice and the question he dreamed so many times asking her knocked him back to life.  "Yes, yes, Y/N, yes- oh Y/N-" he choked a sob, and the biggest smiles appeared on both their faces. Y/N threw herself to him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly. He helped her straddle him so he could wrap his own arms around her.  They held each other for a few seconds, both crying the happiest tears they ever let drop, and when she pulled away to put the ring on him, he surprised her by crashing their lips together.  They shared their most passionate kiss in the entirety of their relationship, both still crying, smiling, spilling so much love and adoration with each stroke of their tongues. When he pulled away, she finally placed the box in between them again.  "Can I put it on you? I know you like to wear your 'H' ring on your ring finger, so we could put it somewhere else, you know? And make it our own thing-" Harry interrupted her giving her a soft peck, "or we could-" another kiss, "I don't know." She finally gave in, pressing her lips harder against him.  After another long kiss, he finally told her

where he wanted his ring, and with a last kiss he patted her ass to let her know he needed her to stand up.  "Wait here." He pointed at her, and she sat on the couch with a soft 'okay'.  He returned moments later with his hand behind his back and a lopsided smirk. He sat in the same position she was for her proposal, in between her legs.  Before he said anything, he moved his hands in between them, opening a red velvet box. She gasped like Harry did moments ago when she saw the beautiful ring with a small red stone (yes! Like his own ring) placed on top of a very thin and delicate silver band that was sitting inside the small box.  "It was my grandmother's." Harry said in a quiet tone. "She gave it to me before she passed away a couple months after we met, remember?" She slowly nodded, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. There was so much love written all over his face. "I told her you were it for me. I knew I wanted this with you ever since we met at our university library. She gave it to me in hopes I could... give it to you some time." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I kept it hidden from you all this time. Didn't want you to find it and make everything weird between us. But I'd really love if you could, um... wear it if you want?" He shyly asked.  "It'd be an honor to carry her ring with me, Harry." His face lit up so fast at her response.  "Yeah?" He asked, perplexed.  "Yeah." Y/N replied with a big smile.  "Will you marry me, Y/N?" He asked her this time, and she couldn't help but giggle.  "I asked you first." She pecked his lips. "But yes, Harry. I'll marry you." And she kissed him again, and he couldn't help but smile so widely she ended up with her lips against his teeth.  After putting his grandmother's ring on her, they shared another night of pure, loving sex. None remember how many times they made each other come, but they did have another important conversation between rounds.  "Something else I wanted to tell you..." She said, in between kisses (they loved giving each other soft small pecks all over each other while they were talking). She was straddling him in their bed, his back against the headboard. He didn't want to pull out of her just yet, keeping his cum inside her for as long as possible.  "I know you're ready to have kids, like, right now." She said, and he raised his eyebrows playfully at her. "I can tell by your breeding kink, honestly." He let a loud laugh leave his chest, making her smile too. It was honestly hilarious, I mean, look at their position.  "I decided I really want to have kids with you." He gasped, "But..." he sunk down in his position, a visible pout on his lips, which she kissed away from him. "Promise me you'll wait for me, until I'm in my 30's" He locked eyes with her. She really wanted this. So much.  "Only three more years?!" He asked with so much hope.  "Three more years and we can start trying, I promise. I just thought that- that we could get married now, have some time as a married couple, you know? To enjoy ourselves." She shrugged and he couldn't help but smile widely and her, nodding frantically. "That way we are both adapting to each other, you know? Meet halfway our wants."  "God, I love you so much." He chose to say, instead of replying straight away. "I'll wait a lifetime to have kids with you if that's what you wanted, just please- decide before you reach menopau-" He couldn't even finish his sentence since she shut him up by putting her hand over his mouth.  "Don't even say it. God, I don't wanna be old." She sighed in frustration.  "I honestly can't wait to grow old with you." Harry said with such a loving tone, like an enamored teenager, hugging her closer to him. And she couldn't help but smile back at him. Because even though ageing scares her, she's ready to spend the rest of her life with him.  "I love you, my angel." Y/N told Harry, before kissing his lips, yet again. 

"I love you, my Y/N." Harry whispered to her, keeping her face close to his. 

X

Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day <3

-Joey

[ingek73]

Game, set, and twat: Whether it’s Meghan or Naomi Osaka, Piers Morgan’s MailOnline-enabled bullying has a pattern...

... the mediocre hack’s mediocre hack hates women who don’t dance to his tune.

Mic Wright

11 hr ago

If someone had a blog and Twitter account where they relentlessly attacked a series of high profile women — many of them women of colour — for perceived slights and their refusal to pay the writer attention, we’d usually call that person a bully and a troll, and if they persisted in that behaviour they might even find themselves facing legal consequences.

But Piers Morgan has a TV career and a MailOnline byline so he’s given impunity to mock, abuse, and denigrate women while claiming he’s just a ‘critical voice’. His latest target is Naomi Osaka, the 23-year-old tennis player who is currently ranked number 2 in the world, is the reigning champion of the US Open and Australian Open, and became the first woman to win back-to-back grand slams since Serena Williams in 2015.

By contrast, Piers Morgan is a mediocre hack who owes his controversy-baiting career to Simon Cowell who pulled him out of the dumper of history and plonked him on the America’s Got Talent panel after he was frog-marched out of Fleet Street for slapping faked photos on the front page of a national newspaper. That incident was the last in an ignominious run at The Daily Mirror and, before that, in the Murdoch press, which I have covered extensively in the past.

[image description] Twitter avatar for @Nabilu

Nabil Abdulrashid

@Nabilu

If time machines existed Piers Morgan would go backwards in time to chat shit about Rosa Parks

May 31st 2021

346 Retweets2,456 Likes]

Morgan’s latest creepy obsession was triggered — I use that word deliberately — by Osaka’s decision not to speak to the press during the French Open at Roland Garros because interviews were affecting her mental health. She subsequently withdrew from the tournament altogether after winning her first match, having been fined $15,000 for not speaking to the media and warned she was at risk of being expelled from the event.

In her statement yesterday, Osaka wrote that she had suffered “long bouts of depression” since she defeated Serena Williams in the 2018 US Open Final and received significant media attention. She continued:

I never wanted to be a distraction and I accept that my timing was not ideal and my message could have been clearer. More importantly, I would never trivialise mental health or use the term lightly.

Nothing in either of Osaka’s statements support Morgan’s sneering labelling of the player as “Narcissistic Naomi” or “world sport’s most petulant little madam”. Once again a 56-year-old man is using his vast and undeserved media platform to bully and harass a woman half his age. And — surprise, surprise — it’s actually just a new front in his obsessive one-sided war on the Duchess of Sussex.

Beneath the frankly unhinged headline, Narcissistic Naomi's cynical exploitation of mental health to silence the media is right from the Meghan and Harry playbook of wanting their press cake and eating it, Morgan writes:

Naomi Osaka is a brilliant tennis player…

… She is also the highest-paid female athlete in the world, raking in $55.2 million in the past 12 months, $5.2 million from tennis winnings and $50 million from endorsement deals with the likes of Nike, Beats by Dre, Mastercard and Nissin…

… Unfortunately, Ms Osaka is also an arrogant spoiled brat whose fame and fortune appears to have inflated her ego to gigantic proportions.

How else to explain her extraordinary decision to announce she will no longer participate in media press conferences, supposedly to protect her mental health?

Morgan is pretending that he doesn’t know that money is not an impregnable suit of armour to protect your mental health. Osaka could be the richest woman in the world and still face anxiety and depression. In fact, at just 23, the pressures of her performance-driven, endorsement-laden life are arguably more likely to lead to those feelings than a ‘normal’ one.

But rather than seeing Osaka as a young woman in an extraordinary position who is struggling with those demands and finding the hectoring, hostile, and entitled attitude of the press hard to handle at the moment, Morgan calls her “petulant” and continues:

[She] was fined $15,000 for refusing to appear in front of the media… Of course, given that she earns around $6,000 an hour, Osaka will recoup this fine while she sleeps tonight, rendering the fine utterly meaningless.

What's not meaningless is her frankly contemptible attempt to avoid legitimate media scrutiny by weaponizing mental health to justify her boycott.

Morgan departed Good Morning Britain after the row that followed his comment that he “didn’t believe a word” of the Duchess of Sussex’s statements about her mental health during the Oprah interview. Now, the mental health analyser has logged on again and he has determined that Naomi Osaka does not meet his standard of distress. Sadly, he secured his professional qualifications in this area by scrawling a certificate in crayon on the back of a Pizza Express kids menu.

[image description] Twitter avatar for @PaulbernalUK

Paul Bernal

@PaulbernalUK

What is it about Naomi Osaka and Meghan Markle that gets Piers Morgan so worked up, I wonder. Image

May 31st 2021

1,726 Retweets10,537 Likes

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He claims that after reading Osaka’s Instagram post about press conferences, which he calls “an orgy of narcissistic twaddle”, “several times” he experienced “mounting fury”. Remember, this is a 56-year-old man contorting his melted waxwork face into an angry rictus over a 23-year-old woman he doesn’t know choosing not to appear at a press conference. I am not convinced that Osaka is the narcissistic one here.

Morgan continues:

One thing’s very clear: This has got nothing to do with mental health.

What Osaka really means is that she doesn’t want to face the media if she hasn’t played well, because the beastly journalists might actually dare to criticise her performance…

… This is straight out of the Meghan and Harry playbook of wanting to have the world’s largest cake and eating it, by exploiting the media for ruthless self-promotion but using mental health to silence any media criticism.

One thing’s very clear: This has got nothing to do with Naomi Osaka.

What Morgan really means is that he’s still beetroot red over a perceived slight by Meghan back in 2016, which he only started ranting about after he didn’t get an invite to her wedding and was “ghosted”. That came after two years of him tweeting about her as a “friend”.

Piers Morgan is simply using Naomi Osaka as another way to wage his sad fuck guerilla war against the Sussexes. And Osaka is just the latest in a long string of young women to fall short of his weirdo expectations.

He berated Lady Gaga on social media, attacking her after she spoke about dealing with PTSD after being raped, and goaded her so much that she agreed to an interview clearly in the hope of getting him to stop.

He attacked Arianna Grande after the Manchester Arena attack and kept up his bullying for six months until she agreed to have dinner with him after what he said was a “chance meeting”. After she had conceded to spending time in his fetid presence he shifted tack and started creepily calling her his “soulmate” — she was 26 at the time.

These obsessions with young women are often framed as “feuds” in the press, but they are, in fact, byline-enabled stalking. Morgan has a huge platform and he abuses it to get women to concede to him, to make mollifying noises, to pretend that they are his friends just to get him to stop.

The only difference between Piers Morgan and a street harasser screaming at a woman to smile is that MailOnline and ITV pay him handsomely for the privilege. Tonight, Morgan’s ‘Life Stories’ interview with Keir Starmer goes out on ITV and he’ll once again get a chance to dominate the headlines. His views are given credence by the political elite even as he continues to abuse women for attention and praise.

It’s a tactic he’s used for decades, stretching back to his time on The Sun’s Bizarre column, where he insisted on inserting pictures of himself cuddling up to celebrities. His ‘feud’/obsession with Madonna has run on for decades, beginning in his Fleet Street days when she didn’t give him the exclusive on her first pregnancy and continuing right up until now.

As with Lady Gaga, Morgan has repeatedly mocked and dismissed Madonna for saying she was raped in the past. However, unlike Gaga, Madonna has refused to pay homage to Morgan with an interview. He preemptively ‘banned’ her from his CNN show back in 2011 though she had shown not one scintilla of interest in appearing, and tried to reignite interest in his hatred for her in 2016 by saying he would end “the feud” if she apologised to him. He’s still waiting for that call.

Morgan’s attack on Osaka, which is simply another attempt to get at Meghan, came two days after a Daily Mail interview with Jan Moir in which he grumbled:

[Meghan] thinks she’s beaten me? She might be in for a surprise because I suspect I’ll be back soon. If Meghan thinks she has cancelled me or won the battle, she is in for a big shock. I’ve never been more popular.

It made me think of this moment in Mad Men:

Michael Ginsberg: What do I care? I got a million of them… a million…

Don Draper: Good. I guess I’m lucky you work for me.

Michael Ginsberg: I feel bad for you.

Don Draper: I don’t think about you at all.

Meghan is Draper. Morgan is a total Ginsberg — smug and self-satisfied, convinced that Meghan is as obsessed with him as he is with her, certain that they are having a feud between equals and not the same dynamic as every woman cursed with a sad but sinister stalker.

And while Morgan acts like he’s a brave truth-teller, he only dares pump his horseshit opinions into MailOnline’s open sewer once he’s fairly sure that there are enough other media bullies taking the same line. The Australian’s tennis correspondent Will Swanton filed his misogynist screed a full day before Morgan got round to his.

There’s a clue as to how Morgan expects young women to act around him in the latest instalment of his journals — The Diary of Samuel Creeps — which are published in The Mail on Sunday.

Recounting his visit to what sounds like a truly mind-numbing party (“…drinking cocktails, nibbling canapés and having actual ‘fun’ in the garden of the Notting Hill home of Gabriela Peacock, nutritionist to the stars.”) he describes an encounter with Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie:

Princess Beatrice arrived with her husband Eduardo. They announced her first pregnancy today, and both seemed ecstatically happy.

‘Please thank your mum for her supportive texts when I left GMB,’ I told her. ‘She’s always been very loyal to me, and I greatly appreciate it.’

‘Well, you’ve been very loyal to her,’ Beatrice replied, ‘and she appreciates that too.’

I’ve always had a soft spot for Fergie.

Princess Eugenie, who gave birth to her first child three months ago, joined her sister. ‘If you two need any parenting tips for your expanding Royal creche, I’ve had four kids so am something of an expert,’ I suggested.

Their regal eyebrows shot up in synchronised horror. ‘No, we’re good thanks, Piers,’ came the firm, unified response.

I’ve known both Princesses since they were very young, and they’ve been through a lot of tough times in the media spotlight, especially lately over their father Prince Andrew’s shameful friendship with billionaire paedophile Jeffrey Epstein.

But they never complain, or give whining interviews, or publicly trash their family, and they’re always incredibly nice, polite and good fun – which all makes such a refreshing change from their narcissistic, self-pitying, family-abusing, spoiled-brat cousins over in California.

Piers Morgan wants to be treated as famous rather than infamous, and likes women to indulge his antics and act as if they’re amused by his sweaty-handed attention. Fergie — a woman devoid of discernible talent beyond tolerating her ex-husband’s second career as the top Yelp! reviewer at Jeffrey Epstein’s houses — is a-ok with Piers because she sucks up to him. Similarly, her daughters are delightful because they’ll tolerate Morgan’s dad jokes and fetid familiarity.

Morgan is not a journalist, a truth-teller, a maverick, or a commentator in anything but bad faith. He’s nothing more than a misogynist with a MailOnline byline and some big money contracts. Don’t let him pretend to be anything else.

[1mechanicalalligator]

a glimpse inside my brain

i just. am not doing great and i'm not in a good head space and the last week or so has really kinda fucked me up and it's really confusing because in a lot of ways i'm doing better now than i have in almost a year...like my meds are stable and my house is clean and i have plans and goals and we finally got a plumber to look at our sink after being broken since christmas because neither of us could handle letting someone into our house.

and that's a whole thing now because it turns out all of our plumbing is fucked, so we still don't have a functional kitchen sink, and I finally bought a washing machine except now i can't fucking use it.

but like, things in general are actually going pretty well, and the things that aren't, like the plumbing, i feel like i can handle. and that's good, and i wouldn't want it any differently. we gave up on trying to buy a house right now, and i know that was the right decision, and i'm not even really mad about that anymore.

so i don't know why i'm such a fucking mess right now, except i absolutely do, but i'm not sure how to explain it in a way that makes sense and doesn't make me look stupid. but i'm going to try anyway, i guess.

i've been seeing my current psychiatrist/therapist for nearly a year, but that whole year has been the pandemic year. i've never actually met him in person, just video chatted with him. and this whole fucking year has been like a crisis year for me, i've had three different mood episodes, which is insane. i usually have maybe one a year, and this year i got hit with several months of hypomania, several months of terrible depression that sent me to the hospital, and a few more months of a mixed episode that thankfully we were able to catch quickly and medicate.

all that to say, my doctor knows me, but he doesn't know me. he knows what my symptoms look like, and he knows things about me and my life. and i really like him, and trust him. but like. he's never spoken to me face-to-face, and i feel like that kind of leaves a lot to be desired in terms of understanding what i'm like and how i navigate the world.

what i'm getting at is we've been so busy doing crisis management for the past year, and it's only in the last few weeks that we've started to sort of dive into other things like my sensory issues. so when i sent him an email about how i've been struggling to adjust to having to be a human in the outside world again, it's not like i wasn't expecting him to bring up autism, but it still managed to somehow catch me off guard.

i've spent the last several days documenting my experiences in more detail for him, and today i finally emailed the document to him, and it's 15 fucking pages long, and i just. i'm exhausted. i'm glad it's done because writing it has been so draining and like i don't know how to just jump in and start talking about all of the parts of me that i've tried to erase or delete or reconfigure or hide in an attempt to get through life without people constantly being mad at me. it brings up so many memories and experiences, most of them terrible.

i'm glad i wrote it, and i'm glad i was thorough, because i want to, idk, figure this out i guess, whether that means pursuing a formal diagnosis or not. but it's been really fucking hard and i don't feel like i've earned the right to complain about it because obviously it's all voluntary, i don't have to do any of this, so like, since it's my choice i feel like i shouldn't be allowed to be affected by it. except i really am, and i can't help it, and now that i'm done writing i'm just so tired and emotional and confused.

i want to talk to my best friend, and i can't, really, and i want to go to bed and sleep for a week, but i obviously can't do that either. i also just found out i have to work from the office on monday for the first time in over a year, which i am really not looking forward to, and i'm trying not to panic about it, but it's hard.

yesterday i had a frustrating endo appointment followed by a crazy ed freakout which was ugly and miserable, and i'm feeling a little better about both those things today, i guess, but they're also still there in the back of my head, and that just sucks.

i don't know. i don't know anything. i don't know why i'm writing this, i don't know if i should even post this, i just needed to say it. and i'm sorry if i'm being stupid or spoiled or ungrateful or any of the other 10 million things i'm pretty sure i am, my brain is just going wild trying to make me feel like the worst person in the world.

in any case, i'm struggling a lot, and i know it will be okay, but right now, at this moment, it's not okay.

in the immortal words of roy kent: "so that's what i'm dealing with."