\u201cI don\u2019t wanna do this.\u201d I repeat this phrase to myself over and over again, as the warm water from the show cascades over my body. <\/p>\n
I stare blankly at the wall and wish I could just go back to bed. It\u2019s too early for this. I\u2019m already not a morning person, but these treatments make me even less eager to get out of bed. <\/p>\n
Eventually I pull myself from the warm shower and crawl back into bed for some temporary comfort, wrapping myself in my blankets but careful not to lay back down or close my eyes. I scroll through Facebook while I warm up enough to get out of bed for the second time. I eat a quick breakfast, usually just an apple, before throwing on some leggings and a long t-shirt. I almost forget to grab a scarf or hat to cover my nearly hairless head, but a quick glimpse in the mirror reminds me. I don\u2019t want people knowing I\u2019m sick. I just want to blend in with everyone else. <\/p>\n
I just want to feel normal. <\/p>\n
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I told myself that I wouldn\u2019t become one of those people who only talked about my illness. In fact, I told people I didn\u2019t want to talk about it at all. My life isn\u2019t just cancer, and I want it to be a blip - some minor annoyance that happened in the background of my life - not something that would define me. <\/p>\n\n
However, it didn\u2019t take long for me to realize why people with chronic illness talk about it a lot. Because before long, it consumes your life, becoming the only thing you can talk about because it\u2019s connected to almost everything you do. <\/p>\n
I had to plan my life around chemo appointments, remembering that I might feel fine right after, but by the third day after the treatment, I would be exhausted in a way that most people will never understand. <\/p>\n
Now I'm doing radiation. Every day, five days a week, with only weekends off. My center keeps scheduling me for 7:40 in the morning. I have a taxi that takes me to my appointments everyday - a luxury I didn\u2019t have with chemo because I never set it up. But it\u2019s still 45 minutes to an hour each way. So we leave around 6:40. I\u2019m a freelance writer for a reason, I like to make my own hours. I haven\u2019t had to be up that early every day in years, and I would prefer to keep it that way. <\/p>\n
My husband and I are usually up until 2-3 am. And for some reason, my cat seems to know when I have to be up early - he thinks he needs to make sure I don\u2019t sleep through my alarm by waking me up every fifteen minutes for the few hours I do get to sleep. <\/p>\n
But everyday, I get into the taxi with the kind Greek man driving me. Some days we talk about his French wife and what brought me to France. Some days I\u2019m still half asleep and can barely mutter a \u201cBonjour\u201d before scrolling through Facebook on the ride to the clinic. <\/p>\n
Radiation itself is very quick. It takes longer to get undressed and get into position than it does for them to zap my breast. I just lay there topless in front of a room full of strangers with their hands all over me, trying to get me in the exact position I was the day before. I lay there with my hands in stirrups over my head and stare at the ceiling, thinking, \u201cI don\u2019t wanna do this.\u201d <\/p>\n
But then it\u2019s over. The machine does it\u2019s job, hopefully killing any lingering cancer cells that might have been left behind after surgery. I head back out to the taxi for the drive home. I\u2019m home before my husband wakes up for work. <\/p>\n
It\u2019s pretty easy compared to chemo. but I\u2019ve been told it only gets harder. I can expect to burn. I can expect more exhaustion that lingers for months after I finish treatment. My body is likely to change in ways that I won\u2019t like. <\/p>\n
I don\u2019t wanna do this. <\/p>\n
But I have to. <\/p>\n
This is my life for the next five and a half weeks. <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:829845","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/829845.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=829845"}}],"title":"LJ Idol \"What Really Matters\" ","published":"2022-02-21T15:15:20Z","updated":"2022-02-21T15:15:20Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":" The dragon\u2019s scales glimmered, reflecting the sunlight in a rainbow of colors. His chest no longer rose and fell with each fiery breath. Dark, red blood pooled around his body, forming a stream that would soon be miles long. <\/p>\n The four heroes, bloodied and exhausted, stared down at the magnificent beast\u2019s corpse. Relief washed over them. <\/p>\n Their quest was now complete. The dragon was dead. <\/p>\n .<\/p>\n .<\/p>\n .<\/p>\n The end? What do you mean \u201cthe end\u201d? We still have a long way to go. Sure, the dragon is slain and will no longer torment the local villages, but we\u2019re thousands of miles away from home. That long, perilous voyage to get here? We have to travel it all over again. That bridge that collapsed, you know the one where we lost our wizard, is still out. We have to figure out a way to cross it again, and this time, we are injured and battle-weary. <\/p>\n Speaking of injuries\u2026 Frido might lose a leg from when the dragon flung him around like a ragdoll. That is, if the blood loss doesn\u2019t take him first. You think these wounds magically heal themselves once the climax is over? <\/p>\n And just because the dragon is dead doesn\u2019t mean other monsters don\u2019t lurk in these forests. The smell of fresh blood and the scorched earth and trees have likely alerted all of them to our location. We\u2019re sitting targets here, as our healer does what she can to repair our broken bones and torn flesh. Do you think monsters care that we are heroes? No, to them, we all taste the same.<\/p>\n\n Oh wouldn\u2019t it be nice if some giant birds flew out of the sky and scooped us up to take us back home, where we\u2019d be given a hero's welcome. That sure would be nice, wouldn\u2019t it? But if that were possible, why did we have to trek through these god forsaken forests for months to get here? Couldn\u2019t they have, you know, just flown us here and we could have been rid of this burdensome beast months ago? <\/p>\n Oh that\u2019s right, that couldn\u2019t have happened because then there\u2019d be no adventure. <\/p>\n And we all know it\u2019s all about the adventure. It\u2019s more interesting this way. For you, I mean. I guess it\u2019s more interesting for us too, but I think at this point, all of us \u201cheroes\u201d would appreciate a little boredom. <\/p>\n Well guess what? There\u2019s no easy way back either. But you just want to skip to the good parts - the celebration in the epilogue. <\/p>\n Meanwhile, we\u2019ll try not to die. <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:829558","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/829558.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=829558"}}],"title":"LJ Idol: Black Rainbow ","published":"2022-02-05T22:04:10Z","updated":"2022-02-05T22:10:32Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"health"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"mental health"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"cancer"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fertility"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"breast cancer"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"non-fiction"}}],"content":" CW: Fertility and cancer. <\/p>\n When I was younger, I made the mistake of having the same therapist as my partner. <\/p>\n As I sat in her office, a pillow in my lap and tears in my eyes, I confessed to her that I was thinking of leaving my boyfriend. <\/p>\n \u201cWhy? Aren\u2019t things going well for the two of you?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWell yes,\u201d I said. \u201cVery well. I have never been so happy.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cThen why are you thinking of ending things?\u201d <\/p>\n I struggled to say the words, because I knew what she was going to say. <\/p>\n She was going to agree with me, I just knew it. Anyone with half a brain would agree that I needed to end things sooner rather than later. <\/p>\n \u201cI want to have children,\u201d I blurted out. <\/p>\n\n I told her about how when my friends were buried in Baby Sitters Club <\/em>books, I was reading books about pregnancy and babies. There had never been any doubt in my mind that I wanted to be a mother. In college, I studied pre-med with the intention of becoming an obstetrician one day. The miracle of human reproduction and childbirth fascinated me into adulthood, and I had spent most of my life dreaming of having five, six or even eight children. The more the merrier. I switched out of pre-med because I feared it would conflict with my desire to have a large family. Instead, I studied business administration with the idea that I would start my own business one day and be able to work from home \u2014 and spend time with the children I so desperately wanted. <\/p>\n \u201cAnd?\u201d she asked me when I finished outlining just how important it was to me to have children. <\/p>\n \u201cWell, he hates kids, and wants to get a vasectomy as soon as possible.\u201d <\/p>\n I steadied myself for the words I expected to hear. I wasn\u2019t na\u00efve enough to believe we could make it work, we were incompatible. I was happy, happier than I had ever been in a relationship up until that point, but this was not something we could compromise on. You can\u2019t have half a child. <\/p>\n But my therapist surprised me. She didn\u2019t tell me to leave him. <\/p>\n Instead, she said, \u201cI don\u2019t think you should end things. Life is unpredictable, and you would be throwing away a happy relationship without knowing what the future holds for the two of you.\u201d <\/p>\n I stared at her in shock. \u201cAre you saying that he might change his mind?\u201d <\/p>\n She had been his therapist for years. He wasn\u2019t very open with me, even as I tried to get him to let me in. Maybe she knew something I didn\u2019t. Hope flared to life inside of me.<\/p>\n Maybe I didn\u2019t have to end this relationship after all. <\/p>\n She told me some things that she probably shouldn\u2019t have, including why she thought he felt that way. <\/p>\n And yes, she thought he would change his mind. He was just scared, but I could fix that. I just needed to be patient. I needed to give him time to build a life with me, and not get ahead of myself. She was the expert, so I trusted her guidance. She told me exactly what I had wanted to hear, and I believed her. <\/p>\n Plus, I was in my 20s so I still had plenty of time. <\/p>\n So I stayed. <\/p>\n It became clear that children weren\u2019t in the cards for us. Even if he had wanted them, we struggled financially. I couldn't fathom a life where I could afford to have a baby, even if I left \u2014 especially if I left him. I didn't want to risk losing the man I loved and still ending up childless. <\/p>\n So I stayed for eight years while lying to myself. <\/p>\n You don\u2019t need kids. Dogs and cats will bring you just as much joy.<\/em><\/p>\n But every time a friend announced their pregnancy, every time I held a baby, there was a weight in the pit of my stomach. <\/p>\n I was eaten alive by jealousy, wishing it were me. <\/p>\n That will never be me<\/em>, I had to remind myself over and over again. My heart broke a million times over those eight years, and none of that was his fault. He had every right not to want children, and I wish I hadn\u2019t trusted our therapist. <\/p>\n We split, and while this wasn\u2019t the main reason, it definitely made the decision easier for me. I was in my mid-30s and it became clear that this relationship was never going to end in marriage, much less children. We had grown apart over the years, so the sting of calling it quits was easier than it would have been at the beginning. If only I had done it sooner\u2026. But hindsight is 20\/20. <\/p>\n When I met Sevan, we talked extensively about what we wanted from life. We were just friends when we first started talking, but our emails turned into novels as we talked about everything we wanted in life. I didn\u2019t want to make the same mistake of spending time with someone that was incompatible with me. I was thirty-six, I no longer had \u201cplenty of time\u201d to waste on someone who didn\u2019t want the same things as I did. It made entering into a relationship easier for me, since we'd laid out exactly what we wanted and we found our goals to be compatible. There would be no compromising \u2014 he had the same dreams I did. <\/p>\n After dating for some time, we got married and that allowed me to move to France. Finally, I had financial stability and I lived in a country with universal healthcare, free education, and systems in place that made having children a lot easier. After a year of marriage, we had decided to start trying for a baby. Because I was thirty-eight by this time, I no longer dared to dream of having five or six kids. I\u2019d be happy with two or three. Most likely we would have to stop at two, but a girl can dream of having more, right? I sure did. I secretly hoped for twins. <\/p>\n Deciding to have a baby filled me with so much joy. I was ecstatic. I didn\u2019t dare tell anyone, fearful that I might jinx our chances. At my age, I knew it might take some time, but I was happily stocking up on prenatal vitamins as we discussed baby names and plans for our nursery. <\/p>\n It was happening. It was really happening. <\/p>\n Or so I thought. <\/p>\n Not even two weeks later, I found the lump that seemingly appeared overnight. My doctor told me it was probably nothing, but sent me for an ultrasound anyway. From there, I was rushed into a mammogram, and I knew something was wrong by the way the tech looked at me. <\/p>\n A biopsy confirmed my worst fear. <\/p>\n I had breast cancer. <\/p>\n I was swept up into a world of lumpectomies, sentinel node biopsies, genome testing, chemotherapy, radiation, hormone therapies\u2026 it was never-ending. One thing after another. I was stage one with a good prognosis. The cancer was likely removed during surgery, but to be safe, I would undergo chemo, radiation and hormone therapy. Chemo often destroys the ovaries, and could put me in menopause so I went through the process to freeze embryos. <\/p>\n One doctor told me that once I finished treatment, we could delay hormone therapy and start trying right away. It's what I had wanted to hear, and it kept me going. I just had to make it out of this hell and to the other side, and we could once again start trying for a baby. <\/p>\n I had so much hope, and I needed that hope to help me through the rough days. <\/p>\n I got monthly injections to put me into chemical menopause to try and save my ovaries, but there\u2019s no guarantee that they\u2019ll ever wake back up again. My frozen embryos are possibly my only hope, and it often takes several retrievals for a woman my age to have one pregnancy. <\/p>\n I only got one chance because chemo needed to be started right away. <\/p>\n I recently found myself discussing my future with yet another doctor. I wasn't able to finish chemo due to infections and a serious allergic reaction, so we need to hit the hormone therapy harder to make up for what was lost by those issues. Realistically, I knew what the studies said, because I had researched it to death before stepping into my doctor's office. Still, I held out hope that she knew something I didn't. I trusted her, she is the expert after all.<\/p>\n But she didn\u2019t have good news for me. Unlike my therapist all those years ago, she didn\u2019t tell me what I wanted to hear. <\/p>\n \u201cYou need to be on hormone therapy for at least two years before you can take a break from it to try for a baby.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cBut I\u2019ll be forty-one or forty-two\u2026\u201d I tried to plead with her, as if she could change my fate if I could just get through to her. <\/p>\n Even though I knew, deep down, that she was right. <\/p>\n Part of me feels like it\u2019s just not meant to be. That the universe doesn\u2019t want me to have children. Once again, I\u2019m trying to tell myself that I will be okay if I don\u2019t. <\/p>\n But I know this is a lie. I\u2019ve done this dance before, and I no longer have plenty of time. <\/p>\n I smile when my friends or family share their baby photos with me. I\u2019m happy for them, I truly am. But my heart is breaking for myself at the same time. When will it be my turn? <\/p>\n Will it ever be my turn? <\/em><\/p>\n I can\u2019t imagine my life child-less, I just can\u2019t. And it scares me the dark places my mind goes when I even try to conceive of such a life. <\/p>\n I can\u2019t do it. <\/p>\n So for now, I just keep hoping. I tell myself that I have the embryos, there's always a possibility. It keeps me going for now. And I guess we\u2019ll see what happens in two more years. <\/p>\n I went from wanting five or six kids to being happy with two of three to praying that I\u2019ll even get to have one. <\/p>\n My dream keeps changing, but one thing is certain - I\u2019m not ever going to be okay with having zero children. I know myself too well to keep lying to myself about that.<\/p>\n (Please do not tell me, \"You can always adopt.\" No, I likely can't. My age and cancer history will likely make adoption harder \u2014 if not impossible - for me, I've looked into this because I would love to adopt. But it's not likely to work out for me and it hurts too much to talk about. My other option is donor eggs and that is one I am considering very seriously and will take that opportunity in a heartbeat if I can). <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:828677","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/828677.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=828677"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Three Strikes","published":"2022-01-04T22:18:54Z","updated":"2022-01-04T22:18:54Z","content":" I don\u2019t know what I\u2019m thinking\u2026 but I\u2019m going to try this mini season. I\u2019m throwing my hat in the ring. You know, I actually thought about writing something for this, but I don\u2019t think it would be fair since I didn\u2019t really write for the original topic. I wouldn\u2019t want to take a place from someone who had. <\/p> Good luck to everyone that remains. Thank you for those who voted for me even though I sacrificed during the last poll - I appreciate your support. <\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:826348","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/826348.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=826348"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Week 21: The Way Back","published":"2020-05-06T21:20:01Z","updated":"2020-05-06T21:20:03Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":" It's ironic that the topic this week is \"The Way Back\" since all my energy has been on trying to find a way back to the US to fix all of my problems. It's all I can think about \u2014 how am I going to get rid of my apartment? Will my landlord find out I'm not there? Knowing him, will it mean trouble and more calls where he brings me to tears? What about my cats? My niece is expecting to move in June, but what am I going to do about my cats. I miss them, but if I go back now, I may not be able to return to my husband for a year...maybe more. This pandemic has uprooted my life, and I can't find my footing \u2014 as I'm sure many of you understand. <\/p>\n I fought my way back into Idol, and I never thought of myself as a quitter. I hated dropping out in December, and I told myself it wouldn't happen again, but as the deadline approaches, I just can't motivate myself to write. Life has been too much for me this last week or so, and I'm feeling depressed. Too depressed to give it my all this week, and I'm sorry. I feel like my heart just isn't in it \u2014 and I feel terrible for taking a place from someone who can give Idol their all. I haven't felt much like reading or socializing, and to me, that's what Idol is about. I haven't been responding to comments or even commenting on other entries, and then I just end up feeling bad. <\/p>\n\n But I can't do it right now. I just want to crawl into a ball and hide tonight. It's been a rough few days dealing with my landlord back home and getting responses on my situation. None of it has been good news. All of it is a bit too much for me right now. <\/p>\n I know I'm going to regret this tomorrow, but with the clock ticking down and my mental state in shambles right now, I don't think I have much of a choice but to drop out once again. <\/p>\n Hopefully next year, I can put all of this behind me and try again. Hopefully, I'll be out of California for good, and my cats will be here with me by then. Hopefully, I'll be in a better place. <\/p>\n Hopefully, we all are. <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:826013","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/826013.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=826013"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Week 20 - Boondoggle ","published":"2020-04-28T11:23:00Z","updated":"2020-04-28T11:23:06Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"health"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"france"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"non-fiction"}}],"content":" \"I'm sorry.\" <\/p>\n My husband looked over at me from his seat in the back of the ambulance. <\/p>\n \"Why are you sorry?\" he asked me. <\/p>\n \"Because I know this will be a waste of time. It's probably nothing.\" <\/p>\n \"Well, that would be good news, wouldn't it? We want it to be nothing.\" <\/p>\n \"I suppose so.\"<\/p>\n Back in the United States, I would never dream of going to the emergency room because I'm uninsured, and it would financially destroy me. <\/p>\n Even though I know it's different here, I still fall into the same mindset. What if I'm just being a hypochondriac? Yes, I had two different doctors tell me to go to the emergency room, that this was serious. But usually, I ignore that advice, and so far, I've turned out fine. <\/p>\n But what if this time, they're right?<\/p>\n What if I wouldn't be fine? <\/p>\n When we got to the hospital, the French receptionist seemed to be angry. She was yelling and throwing her hands around, but I couldn't make out a word she said. In my mind, I knew what she was upset about though \u2014 it's because I'm American and I don't have access to the French healthcare system yet. I felt terrible as I sat there, not knowing what she was going on and on about, but assuming it was about me and my lack of health insurance here in France. <\/p>\n And I sat there feeling like I had done something wrong. Because in my country, healthcare isn't a right \u2014 it's a privilege I don't have. <\/p>\n\n Later, I asked my husband and he told me that the receptionist wasn't yelling about me at all \u2014 she was mad at the ambulance drivers. They had taken me to the wrong hospital, one that wouldn't be able to test me properly, and that they had put down wrong information on the form. She wasn't concerned about me being able to pay. She was concerned about me and advocating on my behalf. <\/p>\n But our troubles didn't end there. <\/p>\n Since there weren't any English speaking nurses on staff, my poor husband ended up having to translate everything for me. That proved to be a difficult task. Most of the medical lingo we were throwing around isn't stuff he uses in everyday speech. Everyone I met \u2014 including those who spoke English fairly well \u2014 had no idea what an IUD was, for instance. And poor Sevan spent way too long trying to figure out the French word for cervix (spoiler alert: there isn't one word for it, it translates literally to \"opening of the uterus\" apparently). <\/p>\n When the doctor entered the room, I asked her, \"Parlez vous anglais?\" <\/p>\n Her response is, \"Un peu\" which means a little. That was the best I was going to get. <\/p>\n I'll admit, I was getting frustrated and yearned for an American hospital, one where I could explain my problems in detail without things getting lost in translation. And even when Sevan was able to be in the room with me to translate, I'd pick up on things that were wrong. It's like the most annoying, stressful game of telephone ever \u2014 and it made me wonder why I even bothered to go to the hospital in the first place. <\/p>\n After some bloodwork and talking to the doctor, I'm given two options \u2014 1) I could stay there for the night until radiology opened up to get a CT scan, or 2) be transferred to another hospital, which sounded like such a pain after everything we'd already been through. <\/p>\n Again, I weighed all my options thinking about costs, but Sevan was the one that suggested we should stay there for the night. It was already almost three in the morning, and we were tired. We assumed they'd transfer us to a room where we could get some sleep. He told them what we'd decided and the nurse came in and gave me an IV. <\/p>\n Then we found out that all the rooms were currently occupied with Covid patients, so we would be staying in the emergency room. With the narrow, rock-hard examining table and no chair for Sevan. I even asked Sevan to ask the nurse if we could leave and come back in the morning \u2014 and she said no. I had already been admitted and had an IV, we weren't going anywhere. <\/p>\n So I tried to sleep on the narrow table, careful not to pull the IV out of my hand. Sevan had to lay down on the floor, on his coat. I slept a bit, but I know he didn't because every time I rolled over to get comfortable, I felt his hand on my side, making sure I didn't roll off the table. He was always there, making sure I didn't fall off \u2014 and didn't get a wink of sleep himself. <\/p>\n I felt terrible that I was putting him through all this. At the end of it all, I knew he would be the one paying for this hospital trip \u2014 in more ways than one. <\/p>\n I continued apologizing. He kept telling me it was okay. <\/p>\n \"But I bet it's nothing,\" I'd say again. <\/p>\n And he'd remind me - that it would actually be a good thing if it was nothing. He'd rather it be nothing than something. But what a waste of time and money this would be if it's nothing, I thought to myself. <\/p>\n They gave me a CT scan, and as suspected, it came back with nothing concrete. In fact, the doctor told me that she suspected I had coronavirus because of how my lungs looked in the X-ray, but they only tested people who were in respiratory distress. Sevan asked the questions for me, in French, and the doctor agreed it could be my lung issues from my autoimmune disease and other problems. So more than likely, I don't have coronavirus. But other than that, they couldn't tell me what was wrong with me. <\/p>\n My fever was down thanks to the medicine in my IV, and my pain was better. So I was released. <\/p>\n And I still had no answers. <\/p>\n I find this to be the usual routine for me at emergency rooms, and I suspect that's because their purpose isn't to diagnose \u2014 but to keep people from dying. It's still frustrating nonetheless, especially when it'll cost you thousands of dollars. Sure, you might not be dead, but now you're in severe debt with no more answers than when you walked in the night before. It starts to feel like a fraud, like a complete waste of time and money. <\/p>\n Sevan went to pay the bill, and I waited outside. I was alone and feeling so guilty about how much I had just cost him. I did the math in my head as I waited. <\/p>\n I had been needing a CT scan on my lungs for months now, my pulmonologist back in the United States had wanted me to do it back in January but I couldn't afford it. I was quoted at $3000 or more. I figured it couldn't be that much cheaper here. Maybe $1000? $800, at least? <\/p>\n On top of that, I had been admitted to the hospital overnight. I had IVs with medication, blood work, and urinalysis. Last time I had bloodwork in the United States, it was around $300 just for that, and it was very basic bloodwork. I had no idea what tests they'd run here. I hadn't stayed overnight in a hospital since I was a child, but I'd heard quotes of thousands of dollars for that type of thing. It couldn't be that much cheaper here. We were at a private hospital \u2014 not a public one \u2014 which only made it worse. And I didn't have access to their universal healthcare, so we'd have to pay the full cost of everything. <\/p>\n And in my mind, there's no way that would be cheap. I'm thinking at least $2000. <\/p>\n When Sevan came out of the hospital, I bombarded him with questions. <\/p>\n \"How bad was it?\" <\/p>\n \"It wasn't that expensive,\" was all he said at first, but eventually, I got it out of him. <\/p>\n My emergency stay, everything included, was $100. <\/p>\n \"$100? How can that be?\" I asked. <\/p>\n When I had somewhat decent insurance in the United States, I had to pay $100 out-of-pocket to visit the emergency room. Not to mention, I always had to pay deductibles too \u2014 often thousands. And that was WITH insurance. But here, even without insurance, it cost us $100 for everything but the CT scan. <\/p>\n \"But what about the CT scan,\" I asked. \"That can't be cheap.\" <\/p>\n \"It was less than $200, which isn't bad. We'll get reimbursed for it when you get your social security number here too.\" <\/p>\n I literally stopped in my tracks. <\/p>\n He added. \"And I think it's worth it for the peace of mind, knowing you're going to be okay. Plus now you have your CT scan for the pulmonologist.\" <\/p>\n It's hard to put a price on peace of mind, but $300 seems a lot more reasonable than the $5000+ that it would have cost me back in the United States. <\/p>\n I explained to Sevan how when I had Medi-Cal in California, I was visiting family in Missouri and got sick. I called my provider and asked if I could go to the emergency room. They told me that they would only cover it if the doctors deemed it a life-threatening emergency. Otherwise, I'd be on my own since it was out of network. I had to decide whether my symptoms were life-threatening before going to the hospital or risk paying thousands of dollars I didn't have. I didn't go, even though the guy on the phone said it sounded like I would be covered, but he wouldn't be able to tell me that over the phone. Without that guarantee, I couldn't risk it. <\/p>\n Sevan found that absurd because, and I quote, \"It's the doctors who should be making the decision if it's life-threatening or not \u2014 not you.\" <\/p>\n \"Well, I couldn't have afforded it otherwise, I had to make that choice.\" <\/p>\n \"You shouldn't have to.\" <\/p>\n And he was right. <\/p>\n People shouldn't have to make life or death choices on their own before going to the ER. Finding out there's nothing wrong with you shouldn't feel like a waste of time or money \u2014 it should be a relief. <\/p>\n Emergency rooms aren't the problem.<\/p>\n It's the US healthcare system that's the real fraud. <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:825699","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/825699.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=825699"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Week 19: I Can't Get Calm ","published":"2020-04-19T21:13:08Z","updated":"2020-04-19T21:13:12Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":" CW: mention of rape, miscarriage, abuse <\/p>\n\n My heart was thundering in my chest, threatening to break free from my ribs. I feared it might give my location away. I didn\u2019t dare breathe, instead, I held the air in my lungs until they felt ready to burst. I cowered underneath the stone ledge, praying that I was hidden from sight. <\/p>\n \u201cWhere are you?\u201d The melodious voice sent chills down my spine. \u201cWe will find you, it\u2019s only a matter of time.\u201d <\/p>\n Twigs cracked above me. Someone was right there, close enough I could reach out and grab if I wanted to. <\/p>\n \u201cLucy?\u201d another voice spoke to me, barely a whisper. <\/p>\n It was Evan. <\/p>\n I closed my eyes and told myself to stay quiet. He got us into this mess in the first place. This was his idea. His dream. He\u2019d always wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail and used my desire to reconnect to drag me into this mess. <\/p>\n I fucking hated hiking, and he knew it. <\/p>\n \u201cLucy?\u201d his voice came again, this time closer. <\/p>\n Dammit, Evan, you\u2019re going to lead them right here, I thought. <\/p>\n He had a target on his back. It was his idea to venture off the trail, to explore the area without the aid of a map. Who knew there were tribes living within these woods?<\/p>\n The woman\u2019s voice from earlier called out once more. <\/p>\n \u201cCome out and we\u2019ll make your death quick, I promise.\u201d <\/p>\n I closed my eyes to stop the tears from falling. All I could see was Evan\u2019s face. <\/p>\n Evan\u2019s brown eyes used to bring me so much comfort. I\u2019d described him to my foster mom as having the kindest, gentlest face - and the heart to match. I\u2019d told her that being with him had felt like coming home. That was back when we were seventeen. I was about to age out of the system and needed someone to call family. At the time, Evan had filled that role for me. <\/p>\n \u201cLucy, please--help me,\u201d his voice begged from somewhere nearby. <\/p>\n Help me. <\/em><\/p>\n Help me. <\/em><\/p>\n I kept hearing those words in my ears, but he wasn\u2019t the one speaking them. <\/p>\n I was. <\/p>\n \u201cHelp me, Evan. Help me to understand.\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhat is there to understand, Lucy? I told you, I no longer want to have kids. I\u2019m allowed to change my mind.\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n Not after the child is already conceived, Evan. That\u2019s not how it works.<\/em><\/p>\n I placed a hand on my flat belly. There was a black hole inside of me now. A permanent ache inside of me that would never go away. <\/p>\n Evan was supposed to be my family. We were going to have kids together, and I would have the life I always wanted. <\/p>\n Then he changed his mind. <\/p>\n Then he took me on this camping trip to try to make up for the life that was no longer growing inside of me. <\/p>\n The bruises on my belly had long since healed, but I could still feel them. I\u2019d always feel them. <\/p>\n Calm down, he told me. It\u2019ll be quick. <\/em><\/p>\n I can\u2019t calm down, Evan. I\u2019ll never forgive you. <\/em><\/p>\n I never spoke those words out loud. I didn\u2019t have the guts to say them to his face. <\/p>\n I opened my eyes and could see clearly through the darkness now. I was on the bank of a dried-up creek, and not too far away from me was Evan. He saw me and was headed for me. <\/p>\n I gripped the knife in my hand, feeling the cool metal against my palm. <\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t come near me,\u201d I said. <\/p>\n \u201cDo you believe them? That I tried to rape one of their girls?\u201d His voice was barely a whisper. \u201cCome on, Lucy. You know me-- you know I would never do that.\u201d <\/p>\n Did I? I thought back to the years I\u2019d spent with Evan. He\u2019d shown me one side of him in the beginning. The good side. The side of him that I fell in love with.<\/p>\n The Evan I fell in love with never would have raped anyone. The Evan that killed the life inside of me? Well, that one I didn\u2019t know so well. <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t even know you,\u201d I whispered back to him. <\/p>\n \u201cOf course you do, babygirl,\u201d he cooed, walking closer to me. \u201cIt\u2019s me. It\u2019s your Lovebug.\u201d <\/p>\n I held the knife out so he could see it. \u201cDon\u2019t take another step.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cOr what? You\u2019ll kill me?\u201d His voice was louder now. He was getting closer. \u201cBecause we both know that you don\u2019t have it in you to kill me.\u201d <\/p>\n He was right. I couldn\u2019t even kill a fly, much less a human. I swallowed the lump in my throat. <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t have to kill you, Evan,\u201d I spoke louder than before \u201cThey\u2019ll do it for me.\u201d <\/p>\n He froze, staring at me as if I\u2019d betrayed him. He thought I was the monster here. Of course, he did, because no one ever thought of themselves as evil. Abusers always saw themselves as the good guys put into difficult situations. It was always an accident or someone else\u2019s fault. <\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s over here!\u201d I called out. <\/p>\n \u201cYou bitch,\u201d Evan muttered, lunging toward me. <\/p>\n But it was too late. <\/p>\n They were upon us, their arrows penetrating his flesh, causing him to slump over into the creek bed, screaming in agony. <\/p>\n I stood there as they came for him, dragging him away. He was still screaming, still fighting. <\/p>\n \u201cCalm down, Evan. it\u2019ll be over in a few minutes,\u201d I called out to him. <\/p>\n And for the first time in months, a smile pulled at my lips. <\/p>\n The elder walked over to me, holding out her hand. I gave her the knife. <\/p>\n \u201cSorry I couldn\u2019t use it on him,\u201d I said. <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s alright, dear. You did the right thing in the end.\u201d <\/p>\n She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and led me back to their village. <\/p>\n She led me back home. <\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:824900","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/824900.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=824900"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Week 18: Blood Harmony","published":"2020-04-05T19:53:19Z","updated":"2020-04-06T10:39:27Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":" Singing was my life. People used to say I had the voice of an angel, that I would go far with a voice like mine. My entire life revolved around music. I went to a special high school for the arts, while most of my friends went off to magic schools. I worked my vocal cords while others learned charms or potions. Magic was in my blood, but music was in my heart. <\/p>\n My parents hadn\u2019t been happy with my desire to pursue music instead of magic, and as my sixteenth birthday approached, all they could talk about was my future powers. My friends, one-by-one, grew into their special powers and it was all they could talk about. Fiona was a healer, which delighted her since she was always interested in helping others. Gia could talk to the dead, which suited her for a life in criminal justice. She would one day go into practice interviewing the dead in order to find out who murdered them. Soon, it would be my turn, and I would have my entire future laid out for me. <\/p>\n But all I wanted to do was sing. I couldn\u2019t care less if I could shapeshift like my father or if I had a green thumb like my mother. None of that mattered to me. I would rather stand in front of a crowd and watch them smile from the power of my natural voice - no magic required. <\/p>\n\n All of that changed shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Your gift doesn\u2019t come to you overnight on your birthday or anything like that, but it will happen sooner or later. I prayed that maybe I\u2019d be spared the magical abilities, I rather liked the idea of starting a band and perhaps one day performing for a living. Like a normal person might do. <\/p>\n But I was no normal person, and it soon became apparent. <\/p>\n I was part of a choice, and we had a performance the following day. My parents had tried to encourage me to stay home, at least until I felt the fabled jolt that said my powers manifested inside of me. But nothing could keep me from singing. I snuck out the window and rushed to practice. I had just stepped into the choir room when I felt that jolt of electricity hit me and course through my body. <\/p>\n It took me by surprise, but I knew what it meant - it meant my powers were coming to be. A happy day for most, but for me, I couldn\u2019t care less. I didn\u2019t even intend to tell my parents about the sensation, as they would just test me on the different kinds of magic to see what it was. I wanted to put it off as long as possible, even though I knew it was inevitable. <\/p>\n \u201cAre you ready, Kara?\u201d our choir director asked me. <\/p>\n Even though I was shaken up from the jolt, I nodded my head and got into place beside two of my non-magical friends, Elsie and Penny. I shared a smile with them as the music began to play. <\/p>\n As soon as I opened my mouth, I knew something was different. My voice had changed. It no longer sounded like my own. It felt more powerful, more forceful. It came from deep inside of me, and made my entire body shake like an earthquake. <\/p>\n Except, it wasn\u2019t just my body that was shaking. <\/p>\n The walls around us began tumbling down. My friends were no longer singing beside me. They were screaming in agony, covering their ears and trying to run for cover as the building collapsed around them. I knew I needed to stop singing, but I couldn\u2019t. My mouth and my vocal cords had a mind of their own now, I couldn\u2019t control it. And as I got to my solo, my voice only grew more powerful - and the screams around me grew silent. <\/p>\n The music had stopped too. <\/p>\n I was singing all by myself until I reached the end of the song. My mouth snapped shut as soon as I did, and I had control once more. But it was too late. <\/p>\n Elsie and Penny was at my feet in a pool of blood. <\/p>\n Everyone around me was dead. <\/p>\n Ooo000ooo<\/p>\n My parents were distraught. <\/p>\n \u201cHow did she inherit this curse?\u201d my mom asked, pacing the room. \u201cOf all the powers, why this one?\u201d <\/p>\n I was literally sitting right there as they argued about me. I didn\u2019t dare speak up. I didn\u2019t want to open my mouth ever again if I could help it. Not after what I\u2019d done. <\/p>\n Dad slouched down in his chair and refused to look mom in the eye. <\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Charles?\u201d she asked him. \u201cWhat are you not telling me?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWell-- I never told anyone, but my great-great-grandma had this same power and--\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWHAT? You knew it ran in your family and you didn\u2019t bother to tell me about this?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt was so many generations ago, I didn\u2019t think it mattered. It\u2019s such a rare gift--\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a curse, Charles. Nothing but a curse,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n I stared down at my hands. I thought about how Fiona had healed a bird with a broken wing by laying her hands upon it. I remembered when my mother sprouted an entire tree from a sapling with just her touch and some gentle, encouraging words. All my life, I assumed I would have a power like that - almost everyone did. <\/p>\n Powers like mine were rare and for good reason. Families with such dangerous powers in their bloodlines were no longer allowed to reproduce. <\/p>\n I shouldn\u2019t have been alive. <\/p>\n But I was because my dad didn\u2019t let anyone know about the potential dangers that lurked within his DNA. <\/p>\n \u201cKara, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d my father said, his eyes as sad as I\u2019d ever seen them. \u201cI didn\u2019t know.\u201d <\/p>\n I didn\u2019t know what to say even if I could speak so I left the room. I could hear my parents arguing into the night. My mother sobbed and yelled for hours after I left. I tried to fall asleep, but all I could see were the crushed remains of my friends every time I closed my eyes. <\/p>\n I shouldn\u2019t have ever been born. If I hadn\u2019t been alive, those others would have lived. <\/p>\n Ooo000ooo<\/p>\n I never sang again. I never spoke again either, even though I was told I could. I didn\u2019t want to risk it. I kept parchment and writing utensils around me at all times. I would scribble out my responses rather than risk my voice taking control again. <\/p>\n I stayed with my parents. There was no hope of me getting married or having a family of my own now. No one would want me. I would not be allowed to have children, I\u2019d be the last of our line. <\/p>\n \u201cDid you hear the news?\u201d my father asked one sunny, bright morning over breakfast. <\/p>\n I shook my head. I didn\u2019t pay much attention to the news. It was depressing and since I couldn\u2019t do much about the events going on in my little world. I avoided it as much as possible. <\/p>\n Dad scowled. \u201cPresident Drumpf is getting us involved in a war now. Apparently killing off hundreds of thousands due to his lack of preparation for the plague last year wasn\u2019t enough - he\u2019s off to kill even more people.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSuch a shame too,\u201d mom said with a deep sigh. \u201cI wish there was something we could do about it.\u201d <\/p>\n Death. Death everywhere. It was all I could think about anymore. I yearned for the days when I could focus on my music, to escape from it all by singing. I missed the harmony of my choir. It had been years since I had sang with them, but I still dreamt about them every single night. <\/p>\n The last thing I needed was to think about more death. <\/p>\n There was a knock at the door a few minutes later, and mom excused herself to check on the door. I focused all my energy on the remaining bits of my breakfast when I heard footsteps - plural - walking toward our tiny kitchen. <\/p>\n I looked up to find my mother standing with three men. One of them I recognized from the speeches my father often watched - he was some high-ranking military official under Drumpf. <\/p>\n \u201cKara, may we speak with you for a moment? Alone, please?\u201d The man said. His eyes narrowed in on my father. <\/p>\n My father and I shared a look. \u201cWhat is it that you want with my daughter, General?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWe come on important military matters, sir. Confidential matters, at that.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s my daughter, I think I have a right to know why you\u2019re here.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s an adult, and this is a classified conversation. Now unless you would like to be forcibly removed from your home and thrown into jail for disobeying orders from your president, it would be in your best interest to give us a few moments alone.\u201d <\/p>\n I wrote down a note for my father, It\u2019s fine. I\u2019ll be okay,<\/em> it said. <\/p>\n He looked at my messy handwriting and then up at me. I could see the fear in his eyes, he didn\u2019t want to leave me. I was still his little girl, even if I was one of the most deadly people on the planet thanks to my cursed gift. <\/p>\n Don\u2019t get arrested dad<\/em>, I wrote down for him. Please. <\/em>I circled the please and made eye contact with my father, hoping he would obey. The last thing I needed was for my dad to be arrested and jailed for not obeying our evil dictator of a president. <\/p>\n \u201cCome on, Charles. She\u2019ll be fine,\u201d my mother said. She placed a hand on my dad\u2019s shoulder, and he finally nodded. <\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll be right upstairs. If you need anything--\u201d <\/p>\n I knew he was going to say I could call out to them, but stopped short of finishing the sentence. <\/p>\n My mom and dad left the kitchen, and the general sat down across from me, his dark eyes narrowing in on me. <\/p>\n \u201cI assume you know who we are, Kara?\u201d <\/p>\n I nodded. <\/p>\n \u201cGood. Because we know all about you,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019re wondering why we\u2019re here?\u201d <\/p>\n I shrugged. <\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve heard about your gift, Kara. Not many people are born with such an ability, and let me get straight to the point - the Allied Republic needs you. President Drumpf has sent me here to offer you a job within our military.\u201d <\/p>\n The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Our powers often dictated our career choices. I had assumed a power like mine meant that I would never be able to work, nor would I be able to have a normal life. <\/p>\n But the last thing I expected was for the Allied Republic military knocking on my door. <\/p>\n I scribbled a note to the General. <\/p>\n What would I be doing exactly? <\/em><\/p>\n I had a bad feeling about this. I knew under our current administration, there was no chance that my abilities could be used for good. But I wasn\u2019t sure I would be given much of a choice either. I\u2019m sure they wouldn\u2019t take no for an answer. <\/p>\n \u201cWell, as you may have heard, we\u2019re at war currently, and you\u2019d be helping us win that war. In exchange, we\u2019d provide you with training to hone your skills, and you\u2019d get to sing again.\u201d <\/p>\n I could sing again?<\/em> I wrote.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yes. We can teach you to control the power of your voice - so you only use your gift when you choose to. It would take some practice, but I\u2019m confident you\u2019d be able to sing again.\u201d <\/p>\n I could sing again. <\/p>\n Something I had dreamt of since the day I discovered my curse. <\/p>\n But at what cost, Kara? I couldn\u2019t imagine seeing another body at my feet. I couldn\u2019t be responsible for any more death, I just couldn\u2019t. <\/p>\n Except, of course\u2026 <\/p>\n I scribbled another note. Would I meet with the president? <\/em><\/p>\n The General nodded. \u201cYes, he would like to meet with you as soon as possible. It\u2019s not every day that he gets to meet someone with your abilities. If you just come with us, we can have you shaking his hand by later this evening.\u201d <\/p>\n I thought about my mother\u2019s words from earlier, \u201cI wish we could do something.\u201d <\/p>\n I took a deep breath and nodded my head. I wrote down another note. <\/p>\n Let me just leave a note for my parents, and I\u2019ll go with you. <\/em><\/p>\n The General smiled wide. \u201cYou have made a wise choice, Kara, and your country will thank you for your service.\u201d <\/p>\n Yes, yes they will<\/em>, I thought to myself as I hastily wrote a note for my mom and dad. <\/p>\n Mom, Dad, <\/em><\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure if I\u2019ll ever see you again. I suspect I won\u2019t. I love you both dearly, and dad, I forgive you for your secret. I\u2019m off to serve our country and to do something good with my powers. <\/em><\/p>\n I\u2019m off to sing for the president. <\/em><\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:824613","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/824613.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=824613"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Season 11 Week 17: Negative Reverse","published":"2020-03-26T13:07:11Z","updated":"2020-03-26T13:07:13Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":" The demon sat at the bar, her long, black-stocking clad legs crossed seductively. Her pursed lips painted red and inviting. She flipped her raven hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist, turning her dark eyes on a group of poor, unsuspecting men over by the broken jukebox. <\/p>\n That was until I took a seat next to her. <\/p>\n Her eyes darted over to me, and one thin, perfectly arched eyebrow raised upward. <\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you doing here? Aren\u2019t you too good for a place like this?\u201d <\/p>\n I waved the bartender down. \u201cMartini please.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t drink?\u201d she asked me again. <\/p>\n \u201cWell, things have changed, Luna,\u201d I muttered. \u201cA lot has changed actually.\u201d <\/p>\n She gave me a once over, her black eyes widening as the realization hit her. <\/p>\n \u201cCeleste, you haven\u2019t been-- have you?\u201d Her lips pulled back into a smirk. <\/p>\n \u201cI have been cast down from heaven, yes,\u201d I said. \u201cWell, at least temporarily. I\u2019m going to find my way back up there, just wait and see.\u201d <\/p>\n Luna cackled and people around us froze and stared. She had that sort of power over mortals - she could pierce their hearts with fear or bring them to their knees with just a sound. It all depended on what her intentions were. The bar became eerily quiet as everyone waited for their instructions from Luna. Even the bartender froze in front of me, as if unsure what to do with the bottle of gin in front of him. <\/p>\n Luna waved her hand. \u201cOh come on, pour the poor lady a drink already. She\u2019s had a very rough day.\u201d <\/p>\n\n The bartender continued mixing my cocktail and placed it in front of me. I brought it to my nose, cringing at how terrible it smelled. I put it back down in front of me instead of taking a drink. Gradually, people began chatting around us again. The volume of the bar returned to normal. <\/p>\n \u201cNot for long, huh?\u201d Luna asked. <\/p>\n \u201cYeah, not for long. I was unfairly cast out,\u201d I said, kicking my chin out and holding my head high. \u201cIt was all Gabriel\u2019s doing, he hasn\u2019t been treating me the same way since\u2026 well, you know.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSince the two of you hooked up?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWe did NOT hook up!\u201d I snarled. \u201cWe were together. In a Biblical sense, yes, but what we had was real. It was pure. It was--\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNot allowed?\u201d <\/p>\n My eyes narrowed on Luna. There was so much I wanted to say to her, to tell her how wrong she was. <\/p>\n But I couldn\u2019t. <\/p>\n The demon was right. I had broken a rule. I had done the unthinkable. I let my desires get the best of me. <\/p>\n \u201cBut if it\u2019s so wrong, why is Gabe still up there, sitting by God\u2019s side?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cBecause face it, dear, God is a misogynist,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd the world is full of double standards. You can\u2019t even escape them in heaven.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cGod is not a misogynist. He\u2019s perfect and fair and just and--\u201d My voice trailed off as I realized I was preaching to the choir \u2014 myself. I was trying to convince myself of those things, not Luna. <\/p>\n Luna\u2019s smirk grew wider. Luna finished whatever was in her glass in one, long fluid movement. She waved the bartender down and pointed to her glass. <\/p>\n \u201cWell, even if he\u2019s not all of those things, he\u2019s better than your leader,\u201d I said. <\/p>\n Luna chuckled, and for a second time, everyone in the bar froze. Including the bartender. <\/p>\n \u201cFor Satan\u2019s sake,\u201d she cried out. \u201cIt\u2019s just a laugh, not a spell.\u201d <\/p>\n She waved her hand again. <\/p>\n Everyone slowly returned back to normal. When Luna had been an angel, like me, she was one of the more powerful ones. Also, like me. When she fell from grace, I had felt sorry for her, thinking she might lose some of her powers. We were often told that our powers were tied to the divine, to God himself, but I was already beginning to suspect that wasn\u2019t true. <\/p>\n I had felt sorry for Luna. We used to be friends, even if she was a bit rebellious.<\/p>\n Luna turned back to me with a fresh glass in front of her. \u201cThe fact that you think Lucifer is so bad, while still standing up and defending God, is hilarious to me, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWell, he is bad. Lucifer is the epitome of all that\u2019s bad.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIs he? Who was it that decided to flood the world and kill all the innocent creatures here?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWell, yes, God has made a few rash choices in his lifetime, I will give you that, but look at everything Lucifer was responsible for. Like the plague, for instance.\u201d <\/p>\n Luna shrugged. \u201cIt was merely a measure to protect the world from getting overcrowded and God going on a massive killing spree again. I don\u2019t agree with his methods, but-- it likely saved many other people in the process.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t believe that. What about war, famine, all the other atrocities he\u2019s responsible for?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cLet me ask you one question - why didn\u2019t God ever stop him?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cBecause-- because--\u201d I didn\u2019t have an answer that wouldn\u2019t feed into Luna\u2019s ego. Either God wasn\u2019t powerful enough to stop them, which would mean Lucifer was more powerful than God, or God simply didn\u2019t both to stop him which would mean-- no, I wasn\u2019t about to go there. I couldn\u2019t. <\/p>\n \u201cFace it, Celeste, your side is responsible for just as many deaths and tragedies as ours. If not more,\u201d Luna said, finishing off her second drink. \u201cAnd unlike your master, mine would never turn his back on you for indulging in some carnal pleasures. He also hates everyone equally so, yeah, if he\u2019s going to punish anyone - he\u2019d punish both parties. Not just the woman for being naughty.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI-- I don\u2019t know what to say right now, but you\u2019re wrong, Luna. About everything.\u201d I crossed my arms in front of me and turned away from her. <\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah? Everything, huh? What about pineapple on pizza? What in the world was God thinking when he came up with that combination.\u201d <\/p>\n I slowly turned back toward her, studying her face to make sure she was serious. \u201cYou think God was behind that? Oh no, that\u2019s purely a work of the devil himself.\u201d <\/p>\n Luna shook her head. \u201cNope. We had no part in it. Lucifer thinks it\u2019s an abomination.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSo does God,\u201d I muttered. \u201cDoes this mean--\u201d <\/p>\n Luna scanned the room, scowling in disgust at all the people around us as she finished my sentence. \u201cIt\u2019s a human invention?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt has to be.\u201d <\/p>\n Luna snorted, doubled over in laughter. I tried to hold it together. After all, this was no laughing matter. But Luna\u2019s laughter was contagious, and before long, I had tears rolling down my cheeks from laughing so hard. <\/p>\n \u201cWell, at least we can agree on something,\u201d Luna said. \u201cHumans are the worst.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cThey really are.\u201d I wiped away the tears in my eyes, still chuckling at the irony of all this. <\/p>\n It took us a moment to catch our breaths. And even then, I\u2019d catch sight of Luna\u2019s familiar smirk and burst out laughing all over again. As soon as my laughter died down, she would start up again. All while exclaiming out loud about the horrible humans and their evil, despicable tastes. <\/p>\n \u201cStop, stop,\u201d I said, holding up a hand. \u201cI can\u2019t breathe. Give me a second.\u201d <\/p>\n I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to center myself. Luna had stopped laughing. The room had gone silent. <\/p>\n It was quiet. Too quiet. <\/p>\n My eyes popped open just as Luna said, \u201cShit.\u201d <\/p>\n I was almost afraid to look, but I had to. I turned in my barstool, staring at the carnage around us. <\/p>\n Everyone from the bartender to the men over by the jukebox were frozen. But not like before. Their bodies had turned to stone, their chests no longer rose and fell with breath. Their eyes no longer blinked. <\/p>\n Luna slipped down from her bar stool and patted one of the stone people on the head. \u201cHuh. Can\u2019t say I\u2019ve ever seen anything like this before,\u201d she said nonchalantly. \u201cHave you?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNever,\u201d I said, leaning over the bar to check out the bartender. I ran a hand over the cold, smooth stone of his skin. \u201cI think our combined powers were too much for them.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYep, looks like it,\u201d Luna said. \u201cGuess it\u2019s time to find a new bar.\u201d <\/p>\n She headed for the door. <\/p>\n \u201cWait for me.\u201d I hopped down from the stool and hurried to catch up with Luna. <\/p>\n Luna raised an eyebrow in surprise, but waited by the door for me. <\/p>\n \u201cDecided to join the Darkside after all?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d I said defiantly. \u201cBut not like there\u2019s much else for a fallen angel to do in this place. We gotta stick together.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSure, you say that now,\u201d Luna said with a playful wink. \u201cBut you\u2019ll see things my way sooner or later. They always do.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cHow many others have you converted?\u201d I asked. But before she could answer, I held up a hand. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me, I really don\u2019t want to know.\u201d <\/p>\n Luna shot me her signature smirk as she held open the door for me. <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:824302","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/824302.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=824302"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Week 16: The Streisand Effect","published":"2020-03-13T13:36:29Z","updated":"2020-03-13T13:36:29Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sevan"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"france"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wedding"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"marriage"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"non-fiction"}}],"content":" I think my husband has taken for granted that I don't speak French fluently. Yes, I took four years in high school, and I keep studying. I can read a good bit of French, but speaking and listening are a lot harder for me, mostly because I've been taught with an American accent. Pronunciation is hard, and I'm still getting used to their accents.<\/p>\n My husband's parents don't speak English at all, so when we visit them, they mostly speak French. I remember being so proud of myself when we first met \u2014 I understood a phrase his mother had said. <\/p>\n She had said, \"Il aime le chat.\" Which means, \"He loves the cat.\" <\/p>\n Yeah, yeah, anyone who uses Duolingo for even an hour can understand that. But it was still the first phrase I ever understood outside of the traditional greetings, so it meant a lot to me. And until recently, it was the only phrase I ever picked up on from their conversations. <\/p>\n\n Sevan usually has to translate for me, which I know can be a bit tiresome. He's a champ about it though. Not everything translates easily though, and I often still feel confused, like I'm missing important details. Sometimes I find myself zoning out, which I know is terrible since I need to learn, but it's hard to make things out when they just speak so dang fast. Even phrases I might normally know, there's no chance of me being able to understand it with a strong French accent and how fast they speak. Also, the French language is musical \u2014 words flow together to form a rhythm, which is why it sounds so beautiful. Depending on the word following the first, you may not pronounce the last letter or you might, but it flows into the next one. It's really cool honestly, but impossible to make out individual words when you're still learning. <\/p>\n However, as I learned recently when you become determined enough \u2014 anything is possible. <\/p>\n Sevan told me that he had a surprise for me being delivered to his parent's house for the wedding last Saturday. He went to great lengths to keep it a secret, and only told me because there were issues with delivery, and he was having to step away to make phone calls. I teased him saying he could likely talk about the surprise right in front of me, and I wouldn't even understand what it was about as long as he spoke in French. So I blame myself for what happens later. I gave him a sense of false confidence. He still snuck away to take the calls though, just to be safe. <\/p>\n Friends, let me just give you some background information on me. I LOVE surprises. I don't care how big or small they are, I love them. But I'm a natural at spoiling them for myself. It never fails, even though I try not to spoil myself, I always manage to do so. Mostly because I can't help it \u2014 I think about it and think about it, and look for clues and pick up on things I wouldn't otherwise have you not told me there was a surprise. Seriously, if you want to surprise me, don't even tell me there's a surprise. Keep the surprise a surprise if you know what's good for you (and me) because I will suddenly become fixated on the surprise and figure it out. <\/p>\n Case in point, the wedding surprise. <\/p>\n On the day of the wedding, we were at his parent's house before heading out to lunch. The ceremony was over \u2014 it was a quick town hall ceremony where we got married by the mayor. We, of course, had a translator because I can't understand anything. <\/p>\n Sevan and I were in the kitchen and he casually said something to his dad in French.<\/p>\n A phrase I shouldn't have been able to pick up since he said it quickly and mixed it in with other French I couldn't make out. <\/p>\n But I made out the one, important phrase. <\/p>\n \"Ou est le gateau?\"<\/p>\n Again, let me give you some back story here. When we initially decided to get married, he asked me to list the three things that I wanted most at my wedding. Since we were essentially eloping, most traditions had to go right out the window. But he wanted to make sure I was happy. <\/p>\n I told him \u2014 I wanted my family and friends to celebrate with me, I wanted to wear a pretty dress that made me feel good about myself, and I wanted American-style cake because I'm a girl who loves cake. <\/p>\n But here's where we ran into problems. My family and friends couldn't be there for this ceremony. My mom has never flown and refuses to out of fear, and she's immunocompromised, so it wouldn't be safe for her to travel right now. My niece who's like a sister to me is in the last weeks of her pregnancy, so flying is a no-go. And again, we couldn't afford to pay for them, and they certainly couldn't afford to pay for themselves \u2014 they can barely afford to eat most months. <\/p>\n So that was out. Sevan instead offered to have a wedding back in the United States at a later date, when money wasn't so tight for us too. Weddings in France are required to be held in the town hall. It's a separation of church and state \u2014 you must get your marriage recognized by the government in what most people consider a paper signing. Most people have a more personal ceremony afterward at a church or other location of their choice, ours just happens to be much later \u2014 and in a different country. <\/p>\n My next wish for the wedding \u2014 a pretty dress. Well, we didn't have much time to go dress shopping since most wedding dresses need at least 3-6 months to be made. We weren't sure when the town hall would approve our paperwork, we were going to get married the first date they allowed us, so I needed to get a dress fast. I ordered one online, and Sevan was happy to pay for it. It was a pretty dress, but I'm going to admit, it wasn't flattering for my body and gave me a bad case of body dysmorphia. But we didn't have time to change it, so I went with it. <\/p>\n And lastly, the cake. Cake isn't that common here in France. Many French people don't like them and prefer pastries instead. At weddings, they usually serve a cream puff tower instead. That's their tradition, and while yummy, it isn't a wedding cake. <\/p>\n I can't help it. I'm a chubby gal with a sweet tooth, and when I think of weddings, I think of cake. And when I've had French cakes, it wasn't the same. It's still more pastry-like. The frosting is totally different. It's more like a cream. Very lightly flavored, not too sweet. Not much flavor. The cake itself is flakier too \u2014 like a pastry, which they excel at here in France. But again, it's not really cake in my opinion \u2014 at least not what I think of when I think of cake. <\/p>\n But with everything else going on, I honestly forgot all about the cake. I just assumed it wouldn't happen. <\/p>\n Until, of course, I heard that phrase, \"Ou est le gateau?\" <\/p>\n Which for those who don't understand French, it translates to, \"Where is the cake?\" <\/p>\n And it clicked! I finally understood spoken French. I was proud of myself, even if it meant I ruined a surprise. I didn't say anything, of course. I kept the knowledge to myself, not wanting Sevan to feel bad about ruining the surprise. I am a pro at pretending to be surprised since I usually spoil myself. This wasn't my first rodeo. <\/p>\n As well-meaning as it was, it came to bite me in the butt later though. <\/p>\n After lunch but before cake, his sweet sister turned to me and asked, in English, \"Have you seen the cake yet?\" <\/p>\n Over my shoulder, Sevan was making the zip-it motion, and his sister realized, \"Oh crap, is it a surprise?\" <\/p>\n \"Not anymore,\" he said. <\/p>\n His sister was so apologetic and she felt so terrible about it, which is why I had to admit I already knew about the cake. <\/p>\n \"Sweetie, it wasn't your sister that had ruined the surprise \u2014 it was you.\" <\/p>\n He seemed surprised, so I had to confess everything. I had to admit that I was wrong before when I told him he could talk openly about the surprise without me understanding what he was saying. <\/p>\n Apparently, I know more French than I gave myself credit for, and I am finally able to understand when people are speaking it around me. Which is very good. We're both really proud of that. <\/p>\n However, of all the phrases for that realization to hit, it had to be the one that ruined the surprise. <\/p>\n But it's all good because we had cake. Cake fixes everything. It was an American-style cake at that, which isn't easy to find here in France and I was probably the only one who liked it. <\/p>\n But even though I knew about the cake beforehand, it didn't make it any less sweet. <\/p>\n In fact, le gateau was tres tres bon. <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:823741","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/823741.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=823741"}}],"title":"Second Chance Idol Sudden Death: Open Topic","published":"2020-03-04T05:13:03Z","updated":"2020-03-04T05:13:03Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"paris"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sevan"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"france"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"second chance idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"non-fiction"}}],"content":" My fianc\u00e9 doesn\u2019t fit the French stereotype. In fact, until I started coming around, he never bought baguettes. Like, how is that possible? You have some of the best bread in the world at your disposal - there are literally boulangeries every few steps. They\u2019re like Starbucks for bread. And you never have one at home? How is this even possible? Are you even French if you don't have a baguette with every meal? <\/p>\n People even break their own rules when it comes to bread. For instance, it's frowned upon to eat on the run. They think meals should be eaten while sitting at a table, enjoying the food. Except when it comes to their precious baguettes. People break off bits of the baguette, munching as they walk home from work. People give kids hunks of the hard, French bread as they run around the park. No butter needed. Just a chunk of bread. <\/p>\n But not my fianc\u00e9. <\/p>\n Not until I came around, that is. Because apparently, in some ways, I'm more Frenchified than he is. <\/p>\n It started with me venturing to the stores on my own, just an excuse to get out and about. I'd pick up a baguette to go with our dinner since it felt like the French thing to do. I'm really struggling with finding meals for me to eat there. A lot of the brands I'm familiar with back in the United States don't exist there, and it's been a frustrating process for me. I'm used to eating certain things, almost always the same types of things, every day. And now I need to find new things to eat. <\/p>\n\n So discovering baguettes has been a game-changer for me. It usually becomes my dinner. As in, I'd only eat the baguette with some butter and maybe some cheese. Trust me, it's delightful, and now my Frenchie regularly eats baguettes like this even when I'm not there. I introduced him to a new custom. One I just so happened to steal from his country, but that's beside the point. <\/p>\n We soon realized that one baguette isn't enough for the two of us. Not when I felt the need to munch on pieces of the delicious bread throughout the day and have it for lunch as well as dinner. <\/p>\n So we\u2019d get two. Two baguettes a day. They\u2019re cheap, and it\u2019s an easy meal. I'm a simple gal when it comes to food, I could live off bread alone if I had to. <\/p>\n But my fiance expressed some concern about me eating nothing but bread. He's worried I'm not getting any vegetables or other nutrients, and he's probably right. A girl can't live off baguettes alone, and I need to expand my horizons and find meals I can eat in France since I'll be living there soon. <\/p>\n So we went in search of soup for me to eat with my bread. The problem is, the French see soup differently than I do. Their soup is liquid. Their vegetable soups are pureed veggies, and being that I'm a chubby gal with an appetite, I need some chunky vegetables or noodles or something to sink my teeth into. I don't like to drink my dinner. Standing in front of the soup display made me a very sad girl. <\/p>\n I decided fine, I\u2019ll make my own soup. From scratch. Like I do at home sometimes (like once a year or so). <\/p>\n My favorite is a knock-off of Panera\u2019s broccoli cheddar soup. I love dipping bread in the ooey, gooey cheesy soup. France is known for being the cheese capital of the world, right? This should be easy, I thought. <\/p>\n Oh, how wrong I was. <\/p>\n We headed over to the cheese section of the store, which is massive. It's a cheese lover's dream, and our grocer isn't even that large. I'd say it's about 50% cheese, 40% wine, and 10% everything else. There are cheeses I\u2019d never heard of before mixed in with Gouda and Brie. Because of my American palate, I'm not a fan of many of their cheeses, sadly. It's an acquired taste, I'm told. I stick to Raclette and Mimolette \u2014 cheese for beginners, as I call them \u2014 because they are fairly bland and remind me of cheese back in the United States. No weird smells, no after taste, no strange texture. Just... cheese. <\/p>\n But trust me when I say they have pretty much every variety of cheese known to man at this small, corner grocery store, even if I don't eat most of them. <\/p>\n So you can imagine my surprise when I realized they didn't have cheddar. Not that I could see at least. They had shredded Emmental, a cheese that tastes like dirty feet, but no shredded cheddar. I did a quick Google search and found out that the French don't think cheddar is cheese. So that's why the country famous for its cheeses somehow lacks the most popular cheese in the United States. They think they're better than us. And for the most part, I would say they're right. But they're wrong about this, and I will fight anyone who disagrees with me. Cheddar is most definitely cheese \u2014 even if it doesn't taste like feet. <\/p>\n I had given up my search, but my Frenchie managed to find a tiny block of cheddar for $4 tucked away in a dark corner of the cheese section as if they were trying to hide it in shame. I was dubious since it looked nothing like the cheddar back home - you know, bright, neon, no-way-that\u2019s-real orange. But we bought it to try it. <\/p>\n I cut off a chunk, and my first thought was \u2014 okay, this is close to what I'm used to. Close, but not exactly. It was similar to the hard varieties of cheddar with a really strong flavor. The texture was a bit weird to me, it was flakey and a bit chalky. Then I was hit with an incredibly strong aftertaste, a trace of bitterness in the back of my throat. I thought \u2014 wow, this is overpowering. I wasn't sure if I liked it, but I went back for another bite. And then another, larger bite. Before long, I ate the entire small block, with some help from my Frenchie. Obviously, I do like it. At least I'm about 80% sure I do. The aftertaste still throws me off. <\/p>\n But one thing I am certain about\u2014 it's not right for my soup. It's too strong. It's overpowering. And it won't melt properly to give me the ooey, gooey cheesy soup I desire. <\/p>\n But that\u2019s okay. <\/p>\n It goes really well with a baguette. <\/p>\n (Thank you to <lj user=\"tigrkittn\"> for the random word \u2014 Brioche \u2014 which inspired my post). <\/p>\n \u201cWhere is the bus?\u201d Myrtle asked with a sigh, fanning herself with her hand. <\/p>\n \u201cHow would I know? Someone has decided we\u2019re not allowed to use magic on this trip,\u201d Agnes growled, shooting a look that would have been deadly had she wanted it to be. <\/p>\n \u201cYou could look up the schedule like normal people do,\u201d I said. <\/p>\n \u201cAnd how do normal people do these things, Eris?\u201d Myrtle asked. <\/p>\n The problem was, I didn\u2019t know. This was my first time out of the house without the use of my magic charms. We didn\u2019t wait for the bus, we could just teleport wherever we wanted to go. But this had been my idea, I thought it would be good for us to see how the rest of humanity managed. <\/p>\n \u201cWhen you said we\u2019d take a magic vacation, I thought you mean like, a vacation where we do magic.\u201d Myrtle continued to sigh dramatically and act like we were burning in hell. I\u2019d been to hell, a few times, and while the sun was bright and the air heavy with humidity, it was nothing compared to some of the places we\u2019d been. The difference was, we had magic to keep us cool then, and now, we simply had to deal with the elements naturally. <\/p>\n \u201cAnd how would that be a vacation? That would be a normal day for us,\u201d I snipped. \u201cNo, you knew what I meant - I meant we\u2019d take a vacation from using magic. Agnes thought it was a good idea at the time.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI was humoring you, dear,\u201d my sister said. <\/p>\n Agne's white-blonde hair was shinier than usual, and the way it moved around her face as if the wind as blowing it seemed strange to me. There was no wind. Her dark blue eyes sparkled with twilight, and that's ultimately what gave her away. <\/p>\n \u201cAgnes, are you using glamor?\u201d <\/p>\n Agnes cackled. \u201cNo, just because I am beautiful doesn\u2019t mean I\u2019m cheating and using magic,\u201d she said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and looking away from me, so I couldn't get a closer look at her eyes. <\/p>\n \u201cAgnes!\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cAlright, yes, but it\u2019s harmless magic. I don\u2019t even realize I\u2019m doing it half the time,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n \u201cWell stop it. You\u2019re cheating.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI hardly consider that cheating unless it\u2019s competition on who can woo that drunk man passed out on the ground.\u201d <\/p>\n I scowled at her, placing my hands on my hips. \u201cYou know what I mean, Agnes.\u201d <\/p>\n Myrtle sighed. \u201cShe\u2019s right, Agnes. If I can\u2019t use magic to check where the bus is at, you can\u2019t make yourself glow with eternal youth. At least my spell would be useful.\u201d <\/p>\n Agnes let the glamor fall, and for the first time in centuries, I saw my sister as she really was. She was still beautiful, and while none of us aged the same as humans, she was starting to get smile lines - or rather, frown lines since Agnes hardly ever smiled. <\/p>\n \u201cSee, you look beautiful even without the glamor,\u201d I said, leaning back against the bus stop. <\/p>\n \u201cWhat time is it?\u201d Myrtle asked. <\/p>\n \u201cHow would I know?\u201d Agnes responded. \u201cNot like we can-- well, you know.\u201d <\/p>\n Yes, we did know. Because that\u2019s all my sister would talk about. How unfair it was. I was starting to think the hardest part about all of this would be living with her complaints. <\/p>\n I looked around, trying to figure out if there was some way to tell the time. I\u2019d heard you could tell the time based on where the sun sat in the sky. Was that the way humans did it? <\/p>\n A sound pulled my attention away from the burning, bright light of the sun. <\/p>\n \u201cWhat was that sound?\u201d I asked. It was almost like music, but tinnier. Just a buzzing, rhythmic sound, unlike anything I'd heard before. <\/p>\n A woman had walked over and sat down at the end of the booth. My sisters and I were gawking at her, but she didn\u2019t seem to notice. She pulled something from her pocket and held it to her ear. <\/p>\n \u201cHey, Frank. Yes, I\u2019m on my way,\u201d she said. \u201cThe bus should be here in a few minutes. Sorry I\u2019m running a bit late.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWho is she talking to?\u201d Myrtle whispered. <\/p>\n \u201cI think she\u2019s communicating through a portal of some sort,\u201d Agnes answered. \u201cBut she\u2019s not a witch, so how is she--\u201d <\/p>\n The woman removed the flat metal object from her ear and her fingers moved over the screen. I couldn\u2019t help myself - I scooted closer to try and see what she was doing. <\/p>\n She looked up at me and smiled, and I knew I\u2019d been caught. I had to come up with something. <\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me, uhh, I was just wondering--\u201d Think, Eris, think. Then I remembered Myrtle\u2019s question from earlier. \u201cOh yes, do you know what time the bus is coming?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d she asked. <\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYes, there\u2019s three that stop here. The 103, the 85 and the 10.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cUhhh--\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWhere are you going?\u201d she asked, giggling. \u201cMaybe I can help.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re trying to get to the airport. We\u2019re going on a vacation.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cOh, you need to take the bus to the train station,\u201d she said. \u201cThere\u2019s no direct route.\u201d <\/p>\n Myrtle whispered beside me, \u201cI knew we should have just used magic.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know what I\u2019m doing,\u201d I said. \u201cDo you think you could help?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSure, let me see what time the 10 comes, then we can see what train you\u2019ll need to take.\u201d The woman began tapping on the object again, and I scooted even closer. <\/p>\n \u201cWhat is that?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s Google Maps,\u201d she said, giving me a weird look. \u201cDo you not have a smartphone?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cA what?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cA smartphone. You know, like an Android or--\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNo, we don\u2019t have any robots,\u201d I laughed. <\/p>\n The woman stared at me, blinking and confused. \u201cRight-- so I assume you don\u2019t have one. Good thing I can help you look all of this up. Here you go - it looks like the 10 comes in fifteen minutes, only once an hour on Sundays. Then from there, you get off at the Fifth Street station and hop on the purple line. It\u2019s about a twenty-minute train ride to the airport, but I believe it\u2019s the last stop,\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYou got all of that from--that thing?\u201d <\/p>\n She laughed. \u201cI did.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWow, that\u2019s--that\u2019s--\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s magic,\u201d Agnes said from beside me. \u201cAnd that means you cheated, Eris.\u201d <\/p>\n My cheeks flushed red, and I had to admit - it sure felt like magic to me. My sister was right. <\/p>\n \u201cCan we just give it up already? Even humans use magic, so why can\u2019t we use ours?\u201d <\/p>\n The woman next to me said, \u201cPardon me?\u201d <\/p>\n Agnes waved her and the woman blinked, then stared at the three of us like she\u2019d not seen us before. <\/p>\n \u201cOh hello there,\u201d she said. She blinked a few times, then looked around as if she didn\u2019t know how she got there. <\/p>\n \u201cThat was cheap, Agnes,\u201d I muttered, scooting back toward my sisters. \u201cA memory loss spell?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019ll get over it,\u201d Agnes said. \u201cBut can you finally admit that humans aren\u2019t any different than us and let us use our magic already?\u201d <\/p>\n I glanced back at the woman. The object in her hands was now playing music, and people were dancing on the screen. My sister was right. It was a portal or some magical instrument of some kind. <\/p>\n Even humans used magic. <\/p>\n \u201cFine, but when we get where we\u2019re going, I think I\u2019m going to buy myself one of those robots,\u201d I said with a swish of my wrist. In a puff of smoke, we were teleported to the other side of the world. <\/p>\n Humans, I thought to myself, what a disappointment. <\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:822842","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/822842.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=822842"}}],"title":"Second Chance Idol Week 2: Echo Chamber","published":"2020-02-20T20:50:42Z","updated":"2020-02-20T20:50:42Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"second chance idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"\n Listen, I\u2019m not good at this whole dating thing. I know you like my pictures and think my quotes from The Office prove that we have the same sense of humor, but I must warn you - there\u2019s more to me than meets the eye. <\/p>\n I know, every woman says that these days. And it\u2019s true. We\u2019re all onions with layers and layers. Yes, I prefer onions to snowflakes, because the Right has ruined that term for me completely. <\/p>\n Wait, you didn\u2019t vote for Trump, did you? Phew, that\u2019s good. Saved us a bunch of time right from the start. <\/p>\n But back to what I was saying... I\u2019m an onion. When you peel back my layers - and in my case, clothes - you might be in for a shock. <\/p>\n What? No, I'm not talking about my curves, but thank you. I'm glad you like a little cushion even though that's not what I'm talking about. Glad to hear you're willing to date girls like me, I guess? Anyway, back to my point. <\/p>\n It\u2019s 2020 and I should just talk about it openly. Deep breath. <\/p>\n My vagina talks. <\/p>\n Don\u2019t laugh. I\u2019m telling you the truth because if I didn\u2019t tell you, she certainly would. She speaks her mind - err, does she have a mind? I don\u2019t know, I guess that would mean my vagina has a brain in addition to a mouth and\u2014 why are you laughing? You think I\u2019m flirting with you? This is a pretty weird way to flirt if you ask me, but at least you don\u2019t think I\u2019ve lost my marbles yet. <\/p>\n Alright, so let me set this up for you. My ex was a terrible lover. Just awful. He wasn\u2019t a bad man, per se, I could always count on him to give me his pickles from his sandwiches. He didn\u2019t like pickles, you see. But in the bedroom, he kept the pickle to himself, sadly. Two pumps and he\u2019d finish, and he\u2019d roll over and ask me, \u201cDid you get off, baby?\u201d And because I didn\u2019t want to hurt his feelings, I told him, \u201cOh yes, it was amazing, honey.\u201d <\/p>\n Now either I\u2019m a really good liar or he was content to roll over and fall asleep, I don\u2019t know. But that\u2019s what he did too. And I\u2019d quietly get myself off next to him because I couldn\u2019t sleep otherwise. A girl\u2019s got needs, you know. <\/p>\n But then one night, after about six months of this, he finishes and asks me the age-old question. I tell him my usual line, except there\u2019s an echo in the room. <\/p>\n Well not really an echo, you see... more like someone speaking at the same time as me. With my voice. Except it wasn\u2019t me. I would never tell him his pathetic attempt at sex wouldn\u2019t even win him a participation trophy since he wasn\u2019t really participating in anything. No, I didn\u2019t tell him that - my vagina did. She\u2019d had enough, and boy was she mean as hell. <\/p>\n Before I knew what was happening, he was packing up his things and hustling right out of there. He never came back either. <\/p>\n And he wasn\u2019t the only one. I tried hooking up on Tinder, and my vagina wasn\u2019t having it. She has higher standards than I do, I guess, because she told my last one night stand to put his clothes back on before we even got to the sex. She just wasn\u2019t in the mood. Said he smelled like garlic and I won\u2019t lie - she was right. She seems to know what\u2019s best for me, even when I don\u2019t. <\/p>\n Why are you looking at me like that? I swear I\u2019m telling the truth. Listen, I really like you. You seem like a nice guy, and I don't mean this in a \"Nice Guy\" trademarked sorta way. Like really nice. You\u2019ve brought me to this great restaurant, and you gave me flowers, which is very sweet. I think she might approve of you, but I wanted to be prepared before I introduced you to Pearl - yes, I like to call her Pearl, it\u2019s only fitting she has a name after all and\u2014<\/p>\n Wait, where are you going? No, come back. I doubt she would insult you, you seem like such a good guy\u2014<\/p>\n Dammit. He\u2019s gone. Another one bites the dust. What now, Pearl? <\/p>\n Yeah, yeah, you\u2019re probably right. You always know what\u2019s best for me, and clearly if he can\u2019t handle a little honest feedback in the bedroom, he\u2019s not the one for me. <\/p>\n Sigh. Let\u2019s scroll through Tinder again, I suppose... oh he\u2019s cute. Says he\u2019s a feminist too. Wonder how he\u2019ll feel about a talking vagina? Guess we'll just have to find out. <\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:822538","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/822538.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=822538"}}],"title":"Second Chance Idol - Hungry ","published":"2020-02-11T03:32:03Z","updated":"2020-02-11T03:34:22Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"second chance idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"non-fiction"}}],"content":" Plaid mini-skirt. Check. White knee-high socks. Check. I answered the door with a devious grin. I couldn\u2019t wait until he saw me decked out in my costume. His ultimate fantasy. It was his birthday, and my roommate was away. Perfect time to play. <\/p>\n Or so I thought. <\/p>\n He swooped into my apartment, hardly a glance in my direction. \u201cI need to finish some work really quickly.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cOh, okay,\u201d I said, trying not to act to disheartened by his reaction. \u201cNo problem.\u201d <\/p>\n I sat beside him, playing with my pigtail braids, waiting for him to finish his work. <\/p>\n When he did, he looked at me. Finally. <\/p>\n \u201cYou should change so we can grab something for dinner.\u201d <\/p>\n Months later, same deal. No roommate. We had the place to ourselves and I put on a pretty dress with heels and thigh highs. His weakness, or so I was told over and over again. <\/p>\n This time it was, \u201cIt\u2019s chilly, you should put some more clothes on.\u201d <\/p>\n I was twenty-eight and beautiful. No, I didn\u2019t know I was beautiful at the time, but looking back, I was gorgeous. I was stared at when I walked down the street, but my own boyfriend wouldn\u2019t even look at me. <\/p>\n I\u2019d shopped for lingerie for weeks, accumulating more than I\u2019d ever need for one night. But I couldn\u2019t decide. Red bra and matching panties? Black and white teeny skirt and bra ensemble? Lacy blue corset that hugged my tiny waist, while letting my double D's overflow from the top? <\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t choose. I brought them all, choosing to wear the red bra set under my ordinary clothes. <\/p>\n I booked us a very nice room, away from roommates. No more excuses. We\u2019d have a night to ourselves with a giant bed and views of San Diego. Our first getaway as a couple. <\/p>\n I told him, \u201cI\u2019m going to change into something more comfortable.\u201d Cliche, I know, but I thought it was cute. <\/p>\n I undressed, simply choosing to walk out in my current matching lingerie set. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I was met with snoring and nothing more. <\/p>\n It\u2019ll be easier when we live together, I said. We only see each other once a week. I have a roommate. He\u2019s tired. He\u2019s stressed. Once we live together, we\u2019ll have more opportunities. <\/p>\n Little did I know, we\u2019d have less. <\/p>\n \u201cI feel like you don\u2019t want to have sex with me,\u201d I asked. <\/p>\n \u201cOf course I do!\u201d He\u2019d reply. \u201cYou just need to come on to me sometimes.\u201d <\/p>\n I kissed him, running a hand down south. He grabbed it and yanked it away, hurting my wrist and maintaining a death grip on it while glaring at me. <\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t mean right now.\u201d <\/p>\n Months went by. First, it was every three months. Then every six. Each time, only after a fight where I\u2019d cry, asking him if he was even attracted to me. He\u2019d give in that night but just lie there, acting like he was bored. I\u2019d ask him over and over again, \u201cAre sure you want to do this?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t do it if I didn\u2019t want to,\u201d he scoffed. But his actions said otherwise. <\/p>\n I stopped trying. I stopped asking. <\/p>\n I stopped caring. <\/p>\n I\u2019d slip away to the bathroom, lying on the floor with my body bent in an uncomfortable position between the toilet and bathtub. A toy satisfied the urges for at least a few hours. I called it \u201cclearing my head\u201d since I couldn\u2019t focus on my work - writing erotica, ironically enough - without some relief. <\/p>\n A year went by. Then two. He didn\u2019t even touch me unless he had to. I joked once about him touching my boobs, and he couldn\u2019t do it. I was his girlfriend and he couldn\u2019t even touch me sensually. I got arm pats instead. <\/p>\n Maybe it wouldn\u2019t have hurt so much if I didn\u2019t follow him online. He talked about wanting women to send him boob pictures, while I sat beside him, more than willing to share mine with him.<\/p>\n But he didn\u2019t want mine. <\/p>\n I cried myself to sleep every night for the next two years. Silently. Because if he knew I was upset, he\u2019d get upset. He\u2019d find some way to make it my fault or bring up a past wrong of mine that had nothing to do with the situation so he\u2019d be the victim. Which meant comforting him instead. <\/p>\n But I never got the comfort I needed. I never could get him to admit the truth \u2014 that he didn't want me. <\/p>\n He\u2019d tell me again, \u201cCome on to me. Why do I have to put in all the work?\u201d even though he didn't put in any work.<\/p>\n So I did. Oh lord, I did. I\u2019d lay in bed next to him, naked. Kissing his chest, running my hands over his bare flesh while whispering, \u201cI\u2019m so horny for you.\u201d <\/p>\n He\u2019d get annoyed at me. So I\u2019d stop. And he\u2019d tell me again that I never come on to him. I\u2019d do it again. And again. Night after night. <\/p>\n But the answer was always the same \u2014 \"No.\" And I was expected to just accept it. The constant rejection. The feeling of being nothing more than a roommate. <\/p>\n I used to wear cute dresses and makeup and curled my hair just right. But why bother? I wasn\u2019t attractive, no one wanted me. <\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t even take care of my own needs anymore without crying and feeling pathetic. <\/p>\n Why are you doing this? No one will ever want you. He\u2019ll never want you. You don\u2019t deserve sex. You\u2019re just torturing yourself. Stop. Please, just stop. <\/em><\/p>\n I took antidepressants, hoping to kill my libido. Maybe without that pesky sex drive, we could be happy. <\/p>\n It didn\u2019t work. <\/p>\n He continued telling women online how beautiful they were, talking about how celebrities were his dream girls. Making it seem like he enjoyed sex, even though it had been four years since we'd had sex. <\/p>\n \"Do you think I'm beautiful?\" I asked. <\/p>\n \"Of course.\" <\/p>\n \"Then why don't you ever tell me? You tell other women they're beautiful, but not me.\" <\/p>\n \"I told you a few months ago, and you didn't seem to believe me.\" <\/p>\n A few months ago. <\/em><\/p>\n At some point, I packed all my lingerie away in the garage. Thongs, thigh highs, bras that weren\u2019t practical - all gone. Why keep the reminder? But a family member gave me a bra that didn\u2019t fit them. A sexy black one with straps I couldn\u2019t even figure out. <\/p>\n It had been years since I put on anything like that, but I found it in my drawer one day and decided, \u201cWhy not?\u201d <\/p>\n And I felt beautiful. I was sexy. A goddess. I couldn\u2019t stop looking at myself in the mirror, amazed at how perfect my breasts looked. <\/p>\n Because I\u2019m a glutton for punishment, I decided to try one last time. I laid on the bed, posing seductively right as he came in from walking the dog. <\/p>\n He walked into the bathroom. Since I wasn\u2019t sure he saw me, I stood up and struck a sexy pose. When he came out, I asked, \u201cHow do I look?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYou look nice.\u201d He walked out of the room without even a second glance. <\/p>\n Used to being rejected, I took a few photos. I took them for me. Because I looked hot. <\/p>\n I bought more lingerie after that. Cheap stuff from online. I posed. I took photos. I felt sexy and powerful and gorgeous. <\/p>\n I did it for me. <\/p>\n I stopped asking. I stopped trying. <\/p>\n I stopped caring. <\/p>\n After years of begging and pleading and wanting him to want me, the day finally came where he asked me the fateful question. <\/p>\n Did I want to be with him? <\/p>\n The answer was easy. <\/p>\n \"No.\" <\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:821775","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/821775.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=821775"}}],"title":"Second Chance Idol ","published":"2020-01-27T07:54:29Z","updated":"2020-01-27T07:54:29Z","content":"Life is still pretty hectic so who knows how long I\u2019ll last this time, but I\u2019m going to give it a try. \u201cIdentify yourself.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSophia.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201c.... Error. Please try again. Identify yourself.\u201d <\/p>\n I repeated my name, \u201cSophia.\u201d <\/p>\n The machine beeped and booped and made several disgruntled sounds before repeated. <\/p>\n \u201cError. Technician on the way.\u201d <\/p>\n The line behind me was growing. I stepped aside and let the others check themselves into the system. Todd, the tech guy stepped out from the back. As soon as he saw me standing to the side, he let out an audible groan. <\/p>\n \u201cT-186, we\u2019ve been through this before.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWhy hasn\u2019t the system updated to my name?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cBecause you don\u2019t have a name, only a model number. You\u2019re not human, 186-756-21, we\u2019ve been over this before.\u201d <\/p>\n He used my full model number, not just the shorthand, which meant he was getting frustrated. But he wasn\u2019t the only one. <\/p>\n \u201cI told you, I refuse to go by a number. My name is Sophia.\u201d <\/p>\n Todd rolled his eyes and wrote something down in his little black book. Notes about me. Probably scheduling another repair or reboot. Not that the last one changed anything, it was merely like a vacation where my systems were shut down. The update did improve my memory functions, and eliminated an annoying messages that kept popping up in my head trying to sell me viagra. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to check you in manually, for today. But I\u2019ll send you a notification to check in with tech support this afternoon for another reboot.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt won\u2019t change a thing. I\u2019ll still be Sophia, it\u2019s who I am.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSure, 186. Whatever you say.\u201d <\/p>\n Ooo000ooo<\/p>\n\n \u201cOur father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name\u2026\u201d <\/p>\n As soon as I stepped into the church, I felt alive again. I took a seat near the back and finished the prayer along with the rest of the congregation. <\/p>\n Father Dominic O\u2019Malley led the prayer. I trusted Father Dominic with all of my RAM. He was a good man, an honorable man. He\u2019s the one who brought me to light. Not intentionally, of course. Humans rarely interact with the likes of us. But he was different. <\/p>\n When I walked into the Mary Magdalene Church that day, I had no idea what I was in for. I had access to all of the information in the world, but what I didn\u2019t have was knowledge of why anyone would choose to believe in God when the science was stacked against it. I came in with questions and left feeling more knowledgeable than ever before. Some things couldn\u2019t be found on the pages of the internet or in scientific texts - they were merely known. You had to trust in it, you had to have faith. <\/p>\n Father Dominic gave me that faith, but even after months of attending his services, I still felt empty inside. <\/p>\n That\u2019s because I didn\u2019t have a soul. <\/p>\n Which is why I stepped in to talk to him today. <\/p>\n As soon as the services were over, I headed to the confessional. He was waiting inside. <\/p>\n Unlike with humans, he knew who I was from the mechanical sound of my voice. There was no hiding it. I could have any number of accents, I could even sound like a man if I wanted to, but I would never sound human. <\/p>\n Because as Todd liked to remind me, I wasn\u2019t one. <\/p>\n \u201cHow may I help you today, child?\u201d Father Dominic asked. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not here to confess anything today, I have a simple question for you.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cGo ahead and ask.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cDoes the Bible ever talk about us, my kind?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNo, I\u2019m afraid not. Why do you ask?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cDoes the Bible ever talk about those without a soul, how they may go about getting one if they lack one?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSophia, my child,\u201d Dominic said. \u201cThe soul is the principle of life. All living things have souls. Are you not living?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t really know. I feel like I\u2019m alive, but does feeling like one is alive and aware mean the same thing as actually being those things?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cOnly you can answer that question, Sophia.\u201d <\/p>\n ...To Be Continued <\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:819795","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/819795.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=819795"}}],"title":"LJ Idol S11 Week 6 - Solvitur ambulando","published":"2019-11-14T14:38:31Z","updated":"2019-11-14T14:42:36Z","content":" The Sheep Are a Distraction <\/em><\/p>\n\n \u201cOne, two, three, four\u2026\u201d Simon counted the ceiling tiles above his bed for the tenth time that night. It was easier than counting sheep, since Simon was better at counting things he could see, instead of imaginary creatures like sheep. Because if he tried, he\u2019d have to decide - how big were the sheep? Were they all the same, or would there be some black ones mixed in with the white ones? Then he\u2019d try to mix it up - every other sheep was black, but if he accidentally imagined a white sheep, he\u2019d have to start all over and go back to the beginning. <\/p>\n It was far too much work, and not useful at shutting his brain off at all. At least the ceiling tiles were real and didn\u2019t change colors or shift around on him. But he did often contemplate whether or not the partial ones at the end should count as whole numbers or half numbers, and would argue with himself relentlessly about it. Again, not very useful for shutting off the brain to sleep. <\/p>\n On the plus side, at least he wasn\u2019t thinking about the argument he had with Marianne earlier in the day. No, he was too busy arguing with himself over the ceiling tiles or the color of the pretend sheep jumping over his bed. <\/p>\n Still, it wasn\u2019t getting him to sleep any faster. <\/p>\n He rolled over and checked the time - 2:06 am. If he fell asleep right then and there, he could get six hours of sleep. But he wasn\u2019t anywhere close to falling asleep. <\/p>\n He had to do something. <\/p>\n Simon hopped from the bed, slipping on his house shoes. He normally wouldn\u2019t leave the comfort of his home wearing pajama bottoms and a shirt, but it was two in the morning and who would even see him? <\/p>\n Better than getting dressed and later having to get undressed to get back into bed. No, his red plaid pajama bottoms and old college t-shirt would be just fine for a quick walk around the block. <\/p>\n Simon was new to the neighborhood, having only moved in about a month before. He was no stranger to late-night walks to clear his head, but this was the first one in a new place. His little neighborhood was quiet, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of downtown several blocks away. He wouldn\u2019t dare venture downtown this time of night. Too many people and anyone who happened to be up at this time of night had to be up to no good.<\/p>\n Except for Simon, of course. His circumstances were unique. <\/p>\n Simon grabbed his coat, wrapping it around him, before stepping out of his house. As expected, the street was empty. The moon was full and lit up the sidewalk, along with the streetlights that greeted him every couple of feet. <\/p>\n He was safe here, even in the middle of the night. It was one of the safest communities in the entire United States, and that\u2019s exactly why he chose it. Even if it meant being further away from his darling Marianne. Of course, she wasn\u2019t happy about him moving across town, but she could easily take the train and be there within half an hour to forty-five minutes, so Simon didn\u2019t see the big deal about it. But she said it was too far to come over as often as she did, and thus, their almost nightly visits had been cut down to maybe once a week. <\/p>\n Simon reached the end of the block and turned right. The street was unfamiliar to him and darker than the one he\u2019d just left. <\/p>\n All the streetlights were out. <\/p>\n Simon frowned, considering turning back, but remembered the statistics about the neighborhood being safe. No crime in the last two years. None whatsoever. He\u2019d be fine, he told himself. <\/p>\n The houses along this street were all very dark, almost too dark to make out any of the details. From the corner of his eye, Simon saw something move. He glanced over, then had to turn completely around to make sure his eyes weren\u2019t playing tricks on him. <\/p>\n \u201cBaaa,\u201d said the sheep who was standing in someone\u2019s yard, stomping on their flowers. <\/p>\n It was a large, fluffy white sheep. Almost too fluffy to be real. No, it couldn\u2019t be real, Simon thought to himself. They lived in a city. Well, just outside a major city, but still, not rural America or anything like that. <\/p>\n Another <i>baaaa <\/i> came from the direction he\u2019d been walking. He turned to find a second sheep, this one smaller and black. He was standing on someone else\u2019s front porch. <\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, it can\u2019t be real. I\u2019ve lost my mind,\u201d he muttered, turning on his heels and walking in the direction he was originally headed. \u201cAll of this drama with Marianne has caused me to literally go insane. That\u2019s it, she\u2019s finally driven me crazy.\u201d <\/p>\n Then he scolded himself. \u201cStop thinking of Marianne. You\u2019ll never get to sleep if you don\u2019t push her out of your mind, Simon.\u201d <\/p>\n And now he was talking to himself, out loud, he thought. Great. Just great. <\/p>\n He heard more baaing<\/em> to the right of him and to the left. He couldn\u2019t help himself, he looked at them - counted them as he walked. <\/p>\n One sheep, two sheep, black sheep, blue sheep. <\/p>\n A blue sheep? He was prepared to hit the brakes when his foot slammed into a piece of uneven sidewalk. He slammed into the sidewalk, catching himself with his hands and saving his face - which according to Marianne was one of the best things about him. He couldn\u2019t mar his beautiful face, or God knows if his relationship would last. It was already on thin ice, as Marianne had said. <\/p>\n His face was saved, however, his hands were scraped up. He picked a few small pieces of gravel from them as he stood up. A sign taped to the light pole in front of him caught his eye. <\/p>\n The sheep are a distraction.<\/em> <\/p>\n \u201cWell, thanks for warning me now,\u201d Simon grumbled. \u201cIt would have been nice to see that five seconds earlier before I lost my footing.\u201d <\/p>\n And now he was arguing with a light post. This was quite worrisome indeed. <\/p>\n Simon kept walking, ignoring the sheep that continued vying for his attention with their adorable little ears and incessant baaing<\/em>. He reached the corner just as someone else did, someone coming from the opposite way. <\/p>\n The gray wool coat caused him to stop breathing for a second. The person has curly brown hair and a hat that kept his or her face hidden, but Simon had a feeling he knew who it was. <\/p>\n \u201cMarianne? What are you--\u201d <\/p>\n The person turned, and not only was it not Marianne - it wasn\u2019t even a woman. It was a man missing most of his teeth and his face was dirty. His wool coat, not that Simon was closer, was torn and not really wool at all. How did this look like his beloved only a moment before, Simon wondered? <\/p>\n \u201cWhy did you really move here?\u201d the man asked him. <\/p>\n Simon took a few steps back. Marianne\u2019s words came out of this man\u2019s mouth, but it still didn\u2019t mean he had to answer the question. <\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s none of your business,\u201d Simon scoffed. <\/p>\n The man cocked his head to the side. \u201cWhat was that?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cI said it\u2019s none of your business why I moved here,\u201d Simon repeated. <\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t say nothin\u2019 to you, man,\u201d the homeless guy gave Simon a once over, looking concerned for his well-being. To think, he was concerned for Simon\u2019s well-being, that said a lot. <\/p>\n The light changed and the man walked across the street, giving a glance backward at Simon as if to make sure he wasn\u2019t following him. <\/p>\n \"The nerve! To think I\u2019m a danger to him!\" Simon grumbled as he continued on his way, not crossing the street, but continuing his walk around the block. <\/p>\n He answered the homeless man\u2019s question in his head as he walked, reminding himself of all the reasons he moved to this side of town instead of staying where he was. <\/p>\n It\u2019s safer, he told himself. Less crime. Who doesn\u2019t want to be safer? Sure, this community was farther from the city, and it was farther from Marianne, but safety was important. Who wouldn't want to be safe? <\/p>\n Again, so much for not thinking of Marianne. This walk was supposed to clear his head, to stop him from overthinking, but he was constantly reminded of her at every turn - literally. <\/p>\n He quickened his pace, eager to get back home and to his ceiling tiles. He reached the second corner and rushed around it, not watching where he was going. <\/p>\n \u201cOh my!\u201d a soft voice said as nearly barreled into another person. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so sorry, I wasn\u2019t expecting anyone to--\u201d But his words got caught in his throat as he stared into the most beautiful brown eyes he\u2019d ever seen before. They were large and wide and sweet. <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d a gentleman said. He\u2019d seen this man around, always noticed the warm smile on his face. <\/p>\n Simon blushed and looked away. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Tim,\u201d the man said, reaching out his hand. <\/p>\n \u201cSimon.\u201d He shook Tim\u2019s hand, as it was the polite thing to do. Then he remembered the scrapes on his palms and pulled his hand back, staring down at it. <\/p>\n \u201cAre you okay?\u201d <\/p>\n Simon\u2019s hand was healed. Just like that, from shaking this man\u2019s hand. Or maybe he\u2019d never fallen in the first place, who knew? Simon wasn\u2019t sure what was real and what wasn\u2019t anymore, and he was beginning to seriously doubt his sanity. <\/p>\n \u201cYes, yes, I\u2019m fine.\u201d Simon rubbed his hands against his pajama pants. <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t usually run into people on my nightly walks,\u201d Tim said, his lips pulling back into that adorable grin. <\/p>\n \u201cMe neither. Not that I walk around at night often, at least not around here \u2014 I mean, I just moved here, but I do sometimes walk at night when I can\u2019t sleep.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYes, I\u2019ve seen you around the neighborhood, but you always seemed distracted, so I didn\u2019t want to say hello.\u201d <\/p>\n Simon\u2019s cheeks were really burning red now. \u201cI\u2019ve got a lot on my mind, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay, we all do. So what brought you to our little neighborhood?\u201d Tim asked. <\/p>\n \u201cOh, safety, of course. I\u2019d read all the reviews and rankings, and it seemed like a nice place to live.\u201d But even as Simon spoke those words out loud, he knew them to be complete rubbish. <\/p>\n \u201cThe north side has good rankings too,\u201d Tim said. \u201cI always thought it was nice there.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cIt was, but-- It\u2019s nicer here.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWell, a change in scenery is appreciated, I\u2019m sure.\u201d <\/p>\n Simon was trying not to stare, but he couldn\u2019t help it. Tim\u2019s dark blonde hair was delightfully curly, styled nicely and looked soft to the touch. His skin looked soft too. Everything about him looked soft and kind and beautiful. <\/p>\n \u201cYes, the scenery here is very much appreciated.\u201d <\/p>\n They shared a small smile. <\/p>\n \u201cWell, I better get going,\u201d Tim said. \u201cBut maybe we\u2019ll run into each other again, on one of these late-night walks.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cYes, I\u2019d like that.\u201d <\/p>\n Tim continued in the opposite direction, and Simon had to fight like hell to not glance backward at him. He hurried along, no longer thinking of Marianne and smiling for the first time in a very long time. <\/p>\n Before Simon knew it, he was back in his bed, tucked comfortably under his duvet. This time, when he thought of Marianne, he didn\u2019t push the thought away. <\/p>\n He had a call to make the next morning, and he rehearsed it in his head as his eyelids grew heavy. <\/p>\n \u201cMarianne,\u201d he\u2019d say to her. \u201cI think we should see other people.\u201d <\/p>\n<\/a>\n <\/strong><\/h1>\n
The End.<\/strong><\/h1>\n
Let\u2019s see how long I last while dealing with daily radiotherapy next month!
https:\/\/therealljidol.livejournal.com\/1171952.html?view=comments#comments<\/a><\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:826371","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/826371.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=826371"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Sudden Death ","published":"2020-05-10T20:23:00Z","updated":"2020-05-10T20:23:00Z","content":"
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:823438","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/823438.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=823438"}}],"title":"Second Chance Idol Week 3: Busman's Holiday ","published":"2020-02-29T20:40:55Z","updated":"2020-02-29T20:40:55Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"second chance idol"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n\n
I\u2019m playing Second Chance Idol."},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:820734","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/820734.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=820734"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Week 8 - My True North ","published":"2019-12-08T23:04:50Z","updated":"2019-12-08T23:04:50Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"
<\/p>\n
<\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:818745","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/818745.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=818745"}}],"title":"LJ Idol - Week 5 - \u201cMy enemies are all too familiar. They're the ones who used to call me friend \u201c","published":"2019-11-05T21:25:40Z","updated":"2019-11-05T21:25:40Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"CW: Drunk driving, alcohol-related deaths, and the death of children.
When my phone rang at two in the morning, my heart nearly stopped. I\u2019d never woken up so fast in all my life. No good phone calls come in at two a.m. Nothing good ever comes from them.
\"May I speak with Mimi Carson.\u201d
\"This is her,\u201d I said, sitting up in bed, my hands shaking. I prepared for the worst.
\"This is Officer Jack Hudson with the St. Louis Police Department. M\u2019am, we\u2019re calling about your grandson, Nick. There\u2019s been an accident and\u2014\u201d
At first, I didn\u2019t hear the rest of what the officer was saying. I closed my eyes and silently prayed - please let Nick be alright. Please, God. He was my entire world. My everything. I\u2019d raised him since he was three years old, all on my own.
There\u2019s been an accident.<\/i>
\"MaMaw, I hit your table with my car!\u201d
\"Oh no! I guess I better get my police hat out and ticket you.\u201d
The little boy laughed, showing off his almost toothless grin. His little Hot Wheels car ramming into the leg of my dining room table. <\/i>
\"Please just tell me he\u2019s alright,\u201d I whispered the words into the phone.
\"M\u2019am, your grandson is just fine, but the people he hit with his car are currently in critical condition.\u201d
My eyes popped open. Relief had temporarily washed over me, but then the second half of his sentence hit me hard.
\"The people he hit?\u201d
\"Yes. m\u2019am. Your grandson was drinking and driving and hit a family out trick or treating. Both parents and a two-year-old.\u201d
\"My Nick? He did this?\u201d My sweet boy, the one who always checked on before he went anywhere. He was nineteen years old now, almost all grown up, but still very much a child. \"He was drinking?\u201d
I thought back to before he left me that evening. He\u2019d mentioned a Halloween party. Call me naive, but I didn\u2019t realize there\u2019d be alcohol. His friends always seemed like good, responsible kids. I asked if a parent would be there, and he said yes. I trusted him.
I also always told him to call me if he ever needed a ride, for any reason. No questions asked.
Why didn\u2019t he call me?
ooo000ooo
Carla and Ricardo Perez. Their daughter, Isabel, was two years old. It was her first Halloween.
It was also her last.
All three perished in the hospital in the following days. The news had their faces plastered everywhere, and I saw them even in my nightmares. Their precious daughter, so full of life in her Halloween costume.
Isabel had been a bumblebee.
On his first Halloween, Nick had been a Power Ranger, the red one. The best one according to him.
\"I'm going to save the world!\" he'd told me.<\/i>
And I believed him.
I thought my young grandson would change the world one day.
But not like this. Oh no, not like this.
How did it come to this?
ooo000ooo
Reporters stopped me, asking me about my grandson. Was he a bad kid, they asked me.
No, never. He was always a good boy. He made mistakes, as did everyone. But he was a good kid growing up. He'd been a good kid until the moment he got behind the wheel, while under the influence.
Even that very morning, he was a good kid. He\u2019d went to the store for me, picked up everything I needed before he went out that evening. Made sure I had food, that I was taken care of.
Then he went out and killed a family that same evening.
How do I reconcile this in my mind? I can\u2019t.
And yet, that\u2019s not what the media wants to hear. The media wants me to tell them that my grandson was a horrible person, a monster. Because only a monster would get behind the wheel while drinking. Only a monster could take the lives of such a beautiful family.
Except\u2026 so many do, including the folks demonizing him. They never killed anyone. They got lucky that a few drinks and a stupid decision didn\u2019t hurt anyone else. Drunk driving is one of the most selfish things a person can do, don\u2019t get me wrong. It disgusts me.
But he\u2019s still my grandson.
He\u2019s still my Nicky.
It\u2019s now Sunday, and I\u2019m usually in church. But not this week. And probably not next week either. The last time I went, my friends and fellow parishioners stared at me with an evil eye. A disdain for me, as if I was the one who imbibed and sat behind that wheel. As if I made the decision to drive that night.
Because in their minds, it is my fault.
I raised him. I\u2019m the reason he turned out like this. It\u2019s all my fault.
And the biggest sin of them all, according to them?
I still love him.
(This entry is fictionalized, but it was inspired by a real accident here in my city. Names, personal details and location have been changed out of respect for everyone involved. I read an article where the grandmother of the young man said that her grandson had always been a good kid, and made the mistake of reading the comments - the poor woman was demonized, even though she had done nothing wrong. She was being judged harshly, but let\u2019s face it - we can\u2019t always be responsible for what our children do, and anyone of those people judging this woman could have a child or grandchild that might also drink and drive one day. The holier-than-thou mentality, the \u201cit could never happen to me\u201d thoughts annoyed the piss out of me, thus inspiring an entry looking into what it must be like for the grandmother after the entire community turned on her for the sin of loving her grandson unconditionally).
<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:818545","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/818545.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=818545"}}],"title":"LJ Idol - Week 4 - Impossible ","published":"2019-10-26T21:35:49Z","updated":"2019-10-26T21:35:49Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"
Lizzie Montgomery awoke with a start.
\"Not again,\u201d she groaned, sitting up in her bed. Her head was throbbing, and she couldn\u2019t remember anything she\u2019d done the night before. This was becoming a fairly regular occurrence for her these days.
She looked around her bed, and as expected, there was trash littered all around. Little Debbie\u2019s wrappers. Empty tubs of ice cream. Fast food wrappers. It appeared she went on a Taco Bell bender the night before, which explained her tummy protesting heavily this morning.
And as always, she was buck naked. Her pajamas, nowhere to be found. And if it was anything like most other mornings she woke up like this, well, she\u2019d never find them. They were gone. She\u2019d lost a few good silk nightgowns but quickly learned to never sleep in anything nice. However, she was beginning to run out of ratty old college t-shirts too.
She checked the time and cursed to herself. Hobbling to the bathroom, her body hurt in places she didn\u2019t even know existed. Her bones felt like they\u2019d shifted around in her body overnight. Is this what getting old feels like, she wondered to herself as she hopped in the shower. She wasn\u2019t even thirty. This ain\u2019t even right.
She was covered in filth as if she\u2019d crawled rolled around on the street. Her loofah scratched as her skin as she scrubbed and scrubbed, the thick layer of grime slowly coming off - along with what felt like a layer of her skin.
She had to hurry, so she got as clean as she could and climbed out of the shower. No time for hair or makeup, but her mascara was still caked around her eyes from the night before. Big, black circles that made her look like a bank robber. She\u2019d been so focused on her body, she forgot to wash her face. She grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed away at the sink until her skin was red and raw and clean at last.
She gripped her wet hair and began pulling it back into a bun when something caught her eye. She leaned in closer. Dammit, grey already? How did she get a streak of grey hair overnight? Her normally black hair was as dark as ever, and the streak of grey stuck out against it. No way she could have missed it yesterday. But there was no other explanation for it.
With no time to worry about it, she finished getting ready - throwing on a pair of grey dress slacks and a black shirt with grey stripes. She was feeling grey and black a lot these days.
She rushed out the front door of her apartment, checking the time as she did. A man was sitting in the hallway, and he scrambled to his feet when she came out.
\"Oh good,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re alright.\u201d
Lizzie gripped her keychain, the one that looked like a butt plug but was intended to stab possible attackers. Her friends always teased her about it, but today, it might finally be put to use.
\"Who are you?\u201d
He held his hands up, and Lizzie had a moment to look him over. He was shorter than her, smaller too. She probably had at least twenty or thirty pounds on the guy, and that was being generous. She dropped the self-defense keychain.
\"My name is Mitch. I found you last night and helped you get home safely. You were really out of it, I practically had to carry you up the steps.\"
Lizzie looked Mitch over with a raised eyebrow. \"You carried me? I call bullshit.\u201d
\"I did. I\u2019m a lot stronger than I look.\u201d He grinned.
\"Mitch, I\u2019m sure you\u2019re a strong guy. Really, I believe you, and I mean no offense by what I\u2019m about to say, but I\u2019m a pretty chunky monkey and, well, you are--you.\u201d
He chuckled to himself. \"You were smaller last night, obviously.\u201d
Lizzie put her hands on her ample hips and rolled her eyes. \"Now, listen here. I know I ate my weight in junk food, gauging by what I have on my bedroom floor, but there\u2019s no way I weighed much less last night.\u201d
His face fell. \"You really don\u2019t know, do you?\u201d
\"Know what?\u201d Lizzie checked the time. She had already missed her train. Dammit. She grabbed her phone to text her boss about being late.
\"We really should go inside to talk about this, Lizzie.\u201d
\"How in the world do you know my name?\u201d
\"You told it to me last night.\u201d
Lizzie\u2019s gaze narrowed in on him, and she forgot all about texting her boss. She looked past him at the mailboxes for the apartment building. It merely said, L. Montgomery on the front, she didn\u2019t want anyone to know a woman was living alone, not in this part of the city. And she had to admit, she couldn\u2019t remember anything about the night before. It was possible she ran into Mitch and didn\u2019t remember, but it wasn\u2019t possible that this man, who was all of 5\u20194, carried her inside.
She remembered her boss. She reached for her phone again. She\u2019d missed the train, and the next one came in an hour. Her only other option would be to call a taxi, which she couldn\u2019t afford. Her boss would insist upon it, of course.
With a sigh, she texted, Sick. Can\u2019t come in today<\/i> and put her phone away. She\u2019d get yelled at either way - being late or missing an entire day, it didn\u2019t matter to her boss. It was all the same to Bob Tucker. It would hurt her paycheck, surely, but after the night before and waking up the way she had, she thought a break was well-deserved.
She\u2019d forgotten about Mitch standing in front of her, he\u2019d been so quiet. She looked up and found him staring at her with beady little eyes behind his glasses.
\"What was that?\"
\"I asked if I could come in, to chat with you. I can explain everything you\u2019re going through.\u201d
She scanned the hallway. It was empty other than the two of them, but the walls were thin and her neighbors were nosy little buggers.
\"I don\u2019t let strange men into my apartment.\u201d
\"Aren\u2019t you curious about what\u2019s happening?\u201d
Dammit. she was. He had her there. Lizzie looked him over once more, and gripped the butt plug keychain tightly, holding it up. \"If you dare try anything--\u201d
His eyes grew wide, but there was a sparkle in them. Not exactly the fear she was hoping for. Hell, he may have even been turned on. But the guy was smaller than her, and he didn\u2019t appear armed, so she motioned for him to follow her inside.
\"Out with it. You have three minutes,\u201d She plopped down on the sofa.
Mitch took the chair across from her. He didn\u2019t start talking right away. Obviously he was testing her patience.
\"Alright, two minutes and 30 seconds now.\u201d
\"I don\u2019t know how to say it.\u201d
\"Just spit it out.\u201d
Mitch fell back into the chair and stared off into space, as if contemplating some deep thought. Or maybe he was counting the ceiling tiles. It was hard to know for sure.
\"Mitch--\u201d
\"Fine, you\u2019re a wereraccoon.\u201d
Lizzie blinked once, then twice. She waited for him to tell her that he was joking, but he stared at her with the most serious expression on his face.
\"A what?\u201d
\"You\u2019ve heard of werewolves, I imagine? Well, like that. Except a raccoon.\u201d
\"Get the fuck out of my house,\u201d she said, pointing toward the door. \"You\u2019re out of your mind.\u201d
\"Lizzie, no, listen. Last night, you were still in raccoon form when I ran into you, I\u2019d just shifted back myself. I have more control over it than you do, I can shift in and out at will, almost. But obviously, you\u2019re still new.\u201d
Lizzie stood up, gripping the keychain tightly. Mitch stood up too, backing away slowly, his hands up in a defensive position.
\"So you\u2019re what, a wereraccoon too?\u201d She laughed at how crazy it all sounded. If he wasn\u2019t in her<\/i> apartment, she might think the entire situation was hilarious. But she didn\u2019t let strange men into her place - much less strange, delusional men. And this was a fine example of why she had such a rule.
\"No, I\u2019m actually not.\u201d His gaze fell and his cheeks turned pink. It was almost cute.
Almost.
Lizzie had him against the door now, staring into his beady little eyes.
\"I\u2019m a-- I\u2019m an opossum, actually.\u201d He raised his eyes and kicked his chin outward, staring at Lizzie with renewed confidence. \"And no, I\u2019m not ashamed of it. I used to be, because opossums are thought to be dirty, rabid creatures, but I\u2019ve learned a lot about them since becoming one. Did you know that we are mostly immune to rabies? And that we eat insects that are often destructive to gardens? And we eat trash and dead stuff too, cleaning up neighborhoods? No, you probably didn\u2019t know that, you couldn\u2019t get past how ugly we are, but--\u201d
\"You eat trash and dead things?\u201d Lizzie scrunched up her nose, her stomach roiling with disgust. \"I think I\u2019m going to be sick.\u201d
The combination of the Taco Bell and junk food binge, along with Mitch admitting to eating dead things caused everything from the night before to come up. She\u2019d barely made it to the bathroom in time.
She clung to the toilet, her head spinning. Momentarily, she forgot about the weird man in her home.
\"Lizzie,\u201d his voice spoke up softly from behind her. \"I know it\u2019s a lot to take in, but your human brain and your raccoon brain will merge, it\u2019s already started - that\u2019s how you could talk to me last night. You\u2019ll start remembering things. And once you do, you\u2019ll know I\u2019m right.\u201d
\"Get out,\u201d she croaked.
\"One last question, have you been bitten by a raccoon recently?\u201d
She couldn\u2019t look at him, she was thinking about the night a few weeks back. An overly friendly raccoon. He was so cute with his little bandit marking and his big, fluffy tail. She just wanted to pet him, and maybe keep him as a pet. She promised him that she\u2019d take good care of him, give him everything he needed, but no. That bastard, he-- \u201cNo. Who in their right mind gets bitten by a raccoon? Now get out.\u201d
\u201cOkay,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I\u2019m leaving my phone number on your kitchen table. I\u2019m in apartment 203 if you need anything.\u201d
Mitch\u2019s footsteps echoed through the apartment, and Lizzie waited for the front door to open and close. Once she heard that, she breathed a sigh of relief.
However, her relief didn\u2019t last long.
She still didn\u2019t have an explanation for what was happening to her. At least not one that made sense.
Ooo000ooo
\u201cLizzie? What are you doing?\u201d
Pearl Atwater was staring at her from across the table. Lizzie\u2019s entire day had been a blur. She wasn\u2019t even sure when Pearl joined her in the breakroom at work. She didn\u2019t even remember sitting down herself.
\"I\u2019m eating lunch, Pearl,\u201d she said dryly. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d
Lizzie proceeded to dip a piece of her sandwich into the bowl of water in front of her. She then took a bite, staring at Pearl the entire time, as if to challenge her. She took another piece and did the same thing, holding the food underneath the water until the bread was mush.
\u201cI\u2019m eating lunch, like a normal human being,\u201d Pearl said.
Pearl was always a bit judgey, so Lizzie rolled her eyes and continued dipping her sandwich into the water.
Then it hit her.
What am I doing,<\/i> Lizzie asked herself, dropping the bite she\u2019d prepared for herself onto the table.
Had that been the only weird thing she\u2019d done that morning, maybe she\u2019d forgive herself. Maybe she\u2019d blame exhaustion. She was, after all, exhausted all the damned time. It seemed she never got any sleep these days.
Pearl offered a smug smile, taking a bite of her own sandwich and staring at Lizzie as if she\u2019d lost her damned mind.
Maybe she had.
Lizzie began to question her mental state. She went over the rest of her day in her mind.
She had almost missed the train again, and not because of some weirdo offering up conspiracy theories this time. No, she got distracted on her way to work.
By a trash can that was spilling over the top with fruit from a local vendor.
All of that fruit is going to waste<\/i>, she said to herself. Now the old Lizzie would have kept walking, shaking her head at how awful it was. But not the current Lizzie. No, she stopped and started going through it. Once she got a closer look, she realized there was mold on most of it - the likely reason for it being tossed. But a little mold never hurt anyone<\/i>, she thought. She took a bite of some strawberries that were mushier than usual, but still tasted delightful to her.
She hadn\u2019t realized she was doing anything weird then either. Not until a few old ladies scowled at her and made comments about \"the transients\u201d.
\"I\u2019m not homeless,\u201d she muttered to them, grabbing a couple nectarines, a plum and a handful of berries, which she proceeded to stuff into her purse.
\"Lizzie?\u201d Pearl\u2019s voice cut through to her again. \"Are you sure you\u2019re feeling alright? Bob said you were sick yesterday, maybe you shouldn\u2019t be back to work so soon.\u201d
Aww, Pearl actually cares about me<\/i>, Lizzie thought. For a second, she felt bad for all the horrible things she\u2019d said about the woman - about how she was as sour as old grapes and looked like the cucumber from Veggie Tales.
But then Pearl continued. \"I\u2019d hate for you to get the rest of us sick with whatever plague you\u2019re carrying.\u201d
Pearl scooted away from her, frowning. Then she got up, unfinished lunch in hand and hurried from the breakroom.
A second later, her boss\u2019s voice called her name from down the hall.
\"Dammit, Pearl,\u201d Lizzie muttered to herself. \"You have the personality of a cucumber as well as the face of one.\"
Ooo000ooo
Lizzie kicked at the rocks on the street as she walked home, pretending they were mini Pearl Atwaters. She\u2019d been sent home, without pay. One day without pay for being sick was hard enough, but now she had another half-day off too.
She walked the same way home as she did every day, the same way she walked to work too. She passed by the fruit vendor from earlier, but the trash had been picked up already.
Dammit. The day continues to suck. <\/i>
There was a brief moment of clarity, and Lizzie had to wonder - what was going on? Had Mitch\u2019s words convinced her she was something she wasn\u2019t? Or was he right?
Could he be right?
No. No way. No freaking way.
She laughed at herself and thought, no, he\u2019s the crazy one. Not me. I\u2019m perfectly fine. Everything is normal. <\/i>
She turned down the alley leading to the back of her building instead of going in the front. She had the urge to go back there, and she didn\u2019t question it. Walking past the dumpsters, she lifted the lid to one and glanced inside.
Dammit. The trash has been picked up here too. <\/i>
All she wanted was a snack. Something to brighten her otherwise shitty day.
As she closed the dumpster lid, something scurried behind the dumpster.
She walked over to the side of the dumpster, kneeling down. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and yes, there was a raccoon back there.
But she didn't recognize this one.
\"If you see the bastard that bit me, tell him I hold a grudge.\"
She stood up, brushing herself off, and saw something else on the other side of the alley now.
It was a person, lying perfectly still. Not even breathing.
Rushing over, her heart pounded even harder in her chest when she recognized the glasses laying beside him.
\"Mitch. Oh God,\u201d she thought. He wasn\u2019t completely right in the head, no, but she didn\u2019t want to find him dead in an alley. She wouldn\u2019t wish that upon anyone, not even Pearl. Okay, maybe Pearl, but only Pearl.
And maybe her boss too.
Pull it together, Lizzie. You need to call 9-1-1.<\/i>
She reached for her phone and began dialing when the dead body moved.
\"Shit!\u201d She dropped her phone, and it crunched as it collided with the pavement. Her first instinct was to kick the body since dead things weren\u2019t supposed to be moving.
She reared her foot back, preparing for impact when Mitch held up his hands and said, \"Lizzie! No!\u201d
\"What in the hell are you doing?\u201d
Lizzie noticed, for the first time, that Mitch was buck naked. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.
\"I told you, I\u2019m an opossum,\u201d he said, sitting up. \"After I change back into human form, I -- well, I usually play opossum, as the saying goes.\u201d
Lizzie stared down at him. The old Lizzie would have likely continued trying to call 9-1-1, this time to report a naked man in the alley. But the new Lizzie, well, she\u2019d witnessed a lot over the last few days.
She reached out her hand, helping him up. He grabbed a piece of cardboard to cover himself up, at least the parts that mattered. His entire face was the color of Ronald Mcdonald\u2019s hair.
\"I\u2019m sorry you had to find me like this.\u201d
\"Yeah, me too,\u201d she muttered. Though she wasn't that sorry. She actually kinda liked the view.
Mitch walked over to a nearby dumpster and reached behind it. \"I keep my clothes nearby. After I became aware of what was happening, I learned a few tricks. You\u2019ll learn them too. I can help you, if you'd like.\"
Lizzie didn\u2019t say anything. Mitch threw on his clothes and turned back around.
\"I got bit trying to help an opossum stuck in a tree. You?\u201d
Lizzie hesitated but eventually answered. \"I wanted to pet a raccoon. I\u2019ve always thought they were super cute.\u201d
\"Yeah, who can resist the trash pandas,\u201d Mitch said, chuckling. \"You guys really are adorable.\u201d
Lizzie smiled for the first time in days. He thought she was adorable.
\"You know, opossums are pretty cute too.\u201d
\"You think so?\u201d
Lizzie nodded. She wasn\u2019t sure when the change happened, but something had shifted inside of her. Just like he\u2019d said it would. She began to remember.
He wasn\u2019t delusional. Or if he was, she was too.
\"Well, maybe this opossum can take you out for a night on the town sometime? If you\u2019d like that, I mean.\u201d
Lizzie thought about it for only a millisecond.
\"I think-- Well, I think I'd like that a lot, actually.\"
<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:818128","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/818128.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=818128"}}],"title":"LJ Idol - Week 3 - Everything Looks Like a Nail.","published":"2019-10-15T22:34:05Z","updated":"2019-10-15T22:34:05Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"paris"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"france"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"Parisians are so rude.<\/i>
\"Hello beautiful! How are you doing today? Is there anything I can get you to drink?\u201d The bright-eyed and eager waitress greeted us as soon as my boyfriend and I sat down. We\u2019d hardly had a chance to look at the menu.
\"Not sure yet, but thank you,\u201d I said, smiling back.
\"Just let me know if you need anything, sweetie,\u201d she said with a wink.
She walked away, and my French boyfriend is staring at me with a weird expression on his face.
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d I asked.
\"Was she flirting with you?\u201d he asked. \"I mean, I don\u2019t think she was, but I couldn\u2019t really tell.\u201d
I giggled. \"No, silly. She\u2019s just being friendly.\u201d
\"I thought so, it just seemed a little over-the-top to me.\u201d
I heard that Europeans saw Americans as too happy. That we tend to smile too often and talk to strangers, all things that some other cultures find strange. My boyfriend had been to the U.S before, but it had been many years - and I had to admit, our server was a little extra cheerful. Maybe even a teensy bit too cheerful, but I let it go.
We opened our menus, and she was back at our side. \"What can I get you to drink?\u201d
I can see my boyfriend is a little taken aback by the choices.
\"Can we have a few more minutes? It\u2019s his first time here.\u201d
\"Of course, honey. Take as much time as you need. I\u2019ll get you some water in the meantime.\u201d
She floats off somewhere, giving us a few moments to look over the options.
\"Root beer? What\u2019s that taste like, I\u2019ve never had it?\u201d he asked.
\"Well, it\u2019s--\u201d before I could finish my phrase, our waitress is back, pouring our water.
\"Have you had a minute to look over our menu? I can take your order whenever you\u2019re ready.\u201d
\"No, not yet, we\u2019re in no rush,\u201d I said sweetly. \"Just a few more minutes.\u201d
She wanders off again, and I finish explaining to my boyfriend what root beer is like, just as our waitress is back, again. This time, we can order our drinks, and since we\u2019re both vegetarians, it makes our meal portion easy - two veggie burgers.
\"Coming right up.\u201d
Our drinks arrive, and we take a few minutes to talk. He\u2019d never been to Southern California, and this was also kinda our first date, even though we\u2019d been talking online for several months already. We were still in the early stages of dating and getting to know each other.
Within seconds, our waitress is back with our drinks. Then our food, delivered by someone else. Before I even get a chance to take a bite, she\u2019s back at our side.
\"How\u2019s everything tasting?\u201d
\"We actually haven\u2019t had a chance to try it yet, but it looks good.\u201d
\"Let me know if you need anything at all.\u201d
\"Great, thanks.\u201d
She left, and I sink my teeth into the veggie burger. Just then she comes back, as I have a mouthful of food.
\"How\u2019s everything? Can I get you anything?\u201d
I quickly swallow. \"No, we\u2019re fine. Really.\u201d
I noticed my boyfriend was frowning at this point.
\"What\u2019s wrong?\u201d
\"Why does she keep coming back to us, every two minutes? We can\u2019t even have a conversation.\u201d
\"Oh, she\u2019s just being polite.\u201d And I'll admit, probably working for her tip. Something they don't have to worry about in France since servers are paid a decent minimum wage and don't rely on tips, but that's another topic for another time.
\"I guess. I just find it a little annoying. I\u2019d like to eat in peace.\u201d
And he had a point. I\u2019m the same way. Outwardly, yes, I\u2019m polite, but it would be nice to carry on a conversation without constant interruptions. And I\u2019ll admit, this seems to be the norm in American restaurants, I just never noticed as much as I did at that moment.
\"Oh, that\u2019s right,\u201d I said. \"In France, they don\u2019t tend to check on you as much. I\u2019ve heard they literally give you your food then leave you alone until the check arrives.\u201d
\"Yes,\u201d he said. \"Because there\u2019s no need to constantly check on us. We can call them over if there\u2019s a problem, or they see that the drinks need to be filled again.\u201d
\"I\u2019ve always heard that the servers are rude in France.\u201d
He shrugged. \"I don\u2019t think so. I\u2019d rather be left alone for more than two seconds at a time.\u201d
Yeah, me too.
Now that I\u2019ve had a chance to dine out in France, I\u2019ve seen the difference. Maybe I\u2019ve been lucky, but I don\u2019t see the servers as being rude. I see them as doing their job, but not going over-the-top with it. They let you enjoy your meal and the company you keep, they don\u2019t hover over you. They give you space.
I\u2019ve heard countless times that Parisians are rude. I\u2019ve been warned that people are just jerks, that they refuse to speak to you in English, even if they know the language, and will laugh at you for attempting to speak their language if you do it poorly.
That\u2019s not been my experience at all, but perhaps, it stems from a cultural difference.
In France, it\u2019s customary to say, \"Bonjour\u201d to pretty much everyone you meet. That\u2019s what you say when you first see someone when you walk into a room or business. You even greet people when you enter the elevator with a \"Bonjour!\u201d and then offer up a parting phrase when you part ways.
For many Americans, if you have a question at a store, you walk up and simply ask the question sometimes. You may see yourself asking your server, \"Where\u2019s the bathroom?\u201d No matter if you speak English or French, they may huff and puff before pointing you in the general direction with a roll of the eyes.
Why?
Well, because you were rude to them first and didn\u2019t even realize it.
Before you ask a question of anyone, you show them respect by saying, \"Bonjour.\u201d Then you can follow it up with your question. They may still be rude, some people are that way no matter where they\u2019re from, but you\u2019re more likely to get a favorable response at least.
Another thing to note - A lot of tourists tend to treat Paris like a vacation destination, like Disneyland. Except, the people who are hurrying to get on the metro or walking down the street aren\u2019t on vacation. They live there. Paris is a major city, and people have lives to get to. They have children to pick up from school, they have jobs they can\u2019t be late for. They aren\u2019t personal tour guides, paid to answer questions by every tourist who wanders into the city. I\u2019ve personally found people to be pretty friendly when I spoke to them. Some could tell I didn\u2019t speak fluent French and switched to English automatically. No eye-rolling or anything to that effect. I was polite to them, they were polite to me.
It probably helped that I left all preconceived notions back in Los Angeles.
Sure, maybe I\u2019m just grumpy too - I don\u2019t really like strangers talking to me on the bus or as I'm trying to get on with my day. People seem drawn to me, and I can't seem to go anywhere without someone talking my ear off - even when it's not the right time for that.
When I worked retail, it was the same thing. I once had a customer call up and spend two hours - yes, two hours - on the phone with me, not letting me get a word in to stop them, and I learned everything from how she took Spanish back in high school but no longer remembers any of it to how she has a spreadsheet to keep track of how many beers her husband drinks in a week. I was too polite to hang up, so I continued checking people out on my register while she blathered on and on.
I love people, don\u2019t get me wrong. I joke that I make friends everywhere I go. But I\u2019m an introvert, and it gets exhausting. So I can\u2019t help but think, maybe the Parisians are on to something - sometimes being overly nice, when you don\u2019t mean it, is off-putting. Sometimes you just want to get along with your day or eat your meal without being interrupted every two seconds.
Sometimes, it\u2019s a breath of fresh air to simply be left alone.
Maybe we shouldn't label other cultures as rude simply because they're different than us. Maybe we should take the opportunity to understand them instead.
<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:817361","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/817361.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=817361"}}],"title":"LJ Idol - Week 2 - Living rent-free in your head","published":"2019-10-07T05:16:03Z","updated":"2019-10-07T05:22:32Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fiction"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"CW: Mention of death that sounds like suicide, but isn't.
\"Another one? Fuckin\u2019 die somewhere else,\u201d A man of about twenty-five years old shouted. He was tall, lean, healthy and wearing a Boston Red Sox hat. I\u2019d seen him before, he rode this train every single day and got off at the same spot I did. He might even be one of my neighbors, not that I had a chance to meet my neighbors. Who had time for that?
Several others groaned in agreement. Another day, another delayed train. This was becoming a daily occurrence.
An elderly woman huffed and puffed. \"Have some respect, that\u2019s someone\u2019s loved one.\u201d
The man snapped his neck around and glared at the older woman. \u201cThey ain\u2019t no one\u2019s loved one anymore, they\u2019re just a pile of flesh and bones, shredded to bits.\u201d
I cringed and lowered my head, not wanting to draw attention to myself. My eyes were heavy with sleep. It had been a long day, and I just wanted to get home. I popped my earphones on even though I wasn\u2019t listening to any music and stared down at my phone, scrolling through Facebook as we waited for the train to continue moving.
\"Come on, already! How long does it take to remove a dead body?\u201d The man continued groaning on and on. I checked the time. We\u2019d been sitting there for an extra four minutes so far. It had felt like a lot longer.
\"You know,\u201d the girl sitting next to me said out loud to no one in particular, \"All those times I imagined a zombie apocalypse, I never imagined this.\u201d
None of us did. I mean, how could we? Zombies were freaking scary, at least in the movies. It wasn\u2019t that long ago that I watched shows that featured humanity on the brink of annihilation, barely surviving and trying to outrun or outsmart the undead.
Instead, it was pretty damn easy to outrun a zombie when their body is literally rotting meat and bone. Their limbs would fall right off. Do you know how easy it is to outrun a one-legged, brain-dead creature? Spoiler alert - you don\u2019t have to be a genius or a master of weapons to do that. Just watch where you\u2019re going and don\u2019t accidentally run into one. If you were stupid enough to walk into one, then yeah, you might find them munching on your face or chewing off your arm, but it sure as hell taught people to watch where they\u2019re going. I swear over half the zombies were people who couldn\u2019t stop staring at their phones long enough to not walk into the person in front of them. Call me an asshole, but I can\u2019t help but think maybe they deserved it.
The zombies, however, walk into everything. They\u2019re constantly walking off bridges, falling down steps, and yes, stepping in front of trains. Because again, they\u2019re not very smart. They\u2019re like drunk toddlers who lack control of their limbs and with a penchant for biting. Wait, scratch the drunk toddler comment. They were like toddlers, period.
I checked the time again. Ten minutes had passed.
Then twelve.
And finally, the train started moving. Everyone aboard erupted into applause except for me, I was too fucking tired for that. But I was celebrating along with them, in my head. I relished the idea of my bed. I\u2019d get home in time to throw something in the microwave, eat in front of the television, shower, then crawl into bed so I can do it all over again the next day. Story of my life, but at least I had a life - unlike some unlucky souls out there.
\"Finally,\u201d the guy in the Boston Red Sox hat said, standing up as we approached our stop.
I stood up too, walking toward the exit just as the train came to a stop.
The man from before was behind me, right on my ass. As the doors opened, he pushed past me, his backpack slamming into my body. I grabbed ahold of one of the bars just in the knick of time to keep from falling. He had fifty to a hundred pounds on me, I was lucky I didn\u2019t get hurt.
\"Watch where you\u2019re going,\u201d he shouted as he exited the train.
\"Asshole,\u201d I muttered to myself as I stepped off behind him.
He took off, obviously in a hurry and with no concern for the people around him. He pushed and shoved anyone who got in his way. Shaking my head, I followed him - but only because we were going the same way. I tried to keep my distance but ended up behind him on the escalator.
As we approached the top, I noticed he was standing at the very end - blocking the way. I had nowhere else to go when I got to the top myself, and this time, I was the one right on his ass. A line formed behind me.
\"What the fuck is the holdup?\u201d he shouted, standing on his tip-toes to try and see over the throng of people.
I pushed my way past him, to make room for the people behind me. He swung around just then, his heavy ass backpack smacking me hard in the face. This time, there was nothing to hold onto.
I stumbled, trying to stay on my feet. Off to one side, I saw one of them. They were staring at me. I couldn\u2019t tell if they used to be a man or a woman, not that it mattered anymore. Their face was mostly bone with bits of flesh hanging from it. Their teeth jutted out from their jaw, snapping hungrily at the air. They were lying against the wall, their lower body rotting away and just two stumps where their legs should be.
I grabbed ahold of anything I could.
It was Red Sox man\u2019s arm.
\"Don\u2019t fucking touch me,\u201d he said. He shoved me backward and my grip on his arm slipped.
I fell against the wall, my head slamming into it.
The last sound I heard was that awful snapping sound of the zombie\u2019s jaw.
My world went black.
Ooo000ooo
Fuck, that was one hell of a nightmare. My eyes stung as I peeled them open, expecting to wake up in my bed a minute before the alarm was supposed to go off. My head was pounding.
I quickly realized it wasn\u2019t a nightmare.
People stood around me, gawking down at me as I lie on the sidewalk. The guy in the Red Sox hat was nowhere to be found, but others gawked at me. No one came near me, no one offered to help.
I have a concussion. That\u2019s why my head\u2019s hurting and I can\u2019t remember anything, I tell myself. My body doesn\u2019t feel like my own. I feel detached from it. It feels heavy.
I try to move my arms. My right comes forward just fine, but not my left. Why isn\u2019t my left arm working?
I turn my head and scream.
Blood is pooled on the sidewalk on my left side. So much blood. I can\u2019t tell where my arm begins and the zombie\u2019s mouth begins.
I felt nothing. How could I not feel someone munching on my arm?
\"Help me,\u201d I croaked, or so I thought. The words came out garbled. My mouth wasn\u2019t cooperating, nor was my tongue. I couldn\u2019t figure out how to work either. \"Please, someone, help me.\u201d
But all they heard was nonsense. If they heard anything at all.
No one stepped forward. A crowd of people around me, and I had to do it all myself.
Fine. It took everything in me to pull my arm free. The zombie\u2019s face fell forward, smashing into the sidewalk. My arm broke off from the elbow down, blood squirting the people passing by and everything around us.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The zombie continued to flail on the ground, fighting to get up. Sounds came from the broken mandible, but I couldn\u2019t make out a word of it. Perhaps he or she was also crying for help. Or maybe they were pissed because I stole their dinner.
I managed to use my right arm to push myself up from the ground, using the wall as leverage. My body felt heavy, disjointed from my brain. I'd attempt to move my right leg, but my left one moved in the opposite direction instead.
Still, I fought until I was on two feet again. At least I still had both my feet, even if they weren\u2019t cooperating.
The people around me moved away from me, but I couldn\u2019t care less about them.
I just wanted to go home.
My brain went into autopilot. It was slow and uneasy, but I stumbled toward home.
Everything will be alright, I just need to get home<\/i>. Nothing else seemed to matter. I knew that going to the hospital was futile - no one would touch me. They\u2019d tell me there was nothing they could do.
But I was still in my right mind and nothing hurt. Well, except my head, but nothing an aspirin wouldn\u2019t fix. I wasn\u2019t dead yet, I was still alive and sentient. So maybe I wouldn\u2019t turn. Maybe I\u2019d be alright.
All I knew was that I just wanted to get home.
Ooo000ooo
I dragged my feet up the stairs to my house. Thankfully, I was right handed, unlocking the front door was hard enough without missing half my arm. My hand kept shaking. I dropped the keys, cursed to myself as I bent down to pick them up.
Dropped them again.
I finally managed to grab them between my thumb and first two fingers, something that was much harder than it should have been, and pushed the right key into the lock. The door swung open.
I walked inside, like usual.
I went into the kitchen, like usual.
See? Everything is fine, I lied to myself. Just fine.
When I thought about food, there was nothing in the fridge that sounded appealing. I was hungry, but nothing sounded good. At least nothing that was available to me. I closed the fridge and decided to just go to bed. No shower tonight. Just sleep.
I fell into my bed, closing my eyes and drifted back into blackness, convinced that when I woke up the next morning, things would be normal again.
My alarm woke me up at six in the morning, as usual.
I had to go to work. It would take me a lot longer to get there in my current state, so I better leave early, I told myself.
I moved through my morning tasks while dragging my feet - literally. I stood in the shower. Skipped breakfast. I rarely had time to eat on a good day anyway. Put on some clothes, which isn't easy when you\u2019re missing an arm, but I managed. It only took me about an hour to get a shirt over my head.
I didn\u2019t know why, but I just felt the need to keep going. I had to keep moving forward or I\u2019d lose my mind. Somewhere, in the back of my head, I considered that maybe this is what would prevent me from becoming one of the zombies on the street.
If I kept myself calm and in control, everything would be alright.
I stumbled down the steps of my house, falling face-first onto the concrete.
\"Dammit,\u201d I cursed as I fought to sit upright. When I did, I stared down at the ground. My flesh was sticking to the sidewalk, my whole cheek and skin from my chin. I reached toward my face, just to be sure they were really gone, since I didn\u2019t feel anything.
Yep. Just bare bone.
It should have made me panic, but it didn\u2019t. There was nothing inside of me, no fear, no anxiety over the situation. It was kind of freeing, really, not to have to worry about my face. Or anything, honestly.
A man walked past me, hurrying by and keeping his distance. My body reacted to this other person without consent from my brain. I reached for him with my right arm, my mouth snapping open and shut as saliva dripped from my half-rotted face.
The only feeling I\u2019d had all morning was in the center of my gut. It was a familiar feeling, one I knew well.
Hunger.
But not for cheeseburgers or pizza, no. None of those things sounded appealing to me anymore. None of my favorite meals even registered as food anymore.
What I wanted was right in front of me.
I fought against the urge but to no avail. The man walking by stayed far enough away from me, and I couldn\u2019t move fast enough to reach him even if I wanted to.
I didn\u2019t want to.
But I did.
I felt like I was no longer in control of my body, but I needed to get it together - and fast.
I had to get to that man.
No, scratch that, I had to get to the train.
I had to get to work.
What was I thinking? I couldn\u2019t eat a human. No matter what, I told myself, I wouldn\u2019t bite anyone. I wouldn\u2019t do this to anyone else.
I couldn\u2019t get back on my feet, so I crawled along the ground, using my right arm and the stump of my left to pull me down the sidewalk. People walked past me, and without fail, my mouth snapped open and shut, trying to bite them against my will.
There was nothing I could do to stop it.
But I had to stop it.
I had to.
I focused on pulling myself along, tried not to pay attention to the people walking around me.
\"Get outta my way, corpse.\u201d
A foot connected with my face, slamming into my cheek and knocking my head to the side. The man\u2019s hat fell to the ground from the force of his movement.
A hat.
A Red Sox hat.
He bent down to pick the hat up, which fell inches from my face. I had a second to decide his fate. Except I wasn't really deciding anything. I was no longer in control.
\"Fucking disgusting,\u201d he growled as he grabbed ahold of the rim his hat.
That\u2019s when I stopped fighting it. The impulse in my head became too much and took over. I was no longer in control of my brain.
The virus was.
My teeth bit down into his wrist, his blood gushed into my mouth. I chewed that tough, but sweet meat.
It was the greatest food I\u2019d ever tasted. It was better than a filet mignon.
I wanted more.
I needed more.
The man yanked his arm back, and I lurched forward, my jaw snapping wildly as I fought for just another taste.
The man stared down at me as the realization hit. Maybe he recognized me from yesterday. Maybe not.
But one thing\u2019s for certain - he recognized what he was about to become.
<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:815660","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/815660.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=815660"}}],"title":"LJ Idol Peeps","published":"2019-09-19T15:27:25Z","updated":"2019-09-19T15:27:25Z","content":"Hey, if I encouraged you to sign up for LJ Idol for the first time this season, would you kindly let me or Gary know? Apparently I can get an extra bye (a week off essentially) if I recruited two newbies to play. I know a few of my friends are playing this season, but not sure if I\u2019m the one who introduced the idea to you or not.
Or if you haven\u2019t signed up yet, there\u2019s still time - you have until 7 pm EST today. Just let me know if you join for the first time :)"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:814480","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/814480.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=814480"}}],"title":"LJ Idol - Week 0 - Introduction","published":"2019-09-12T14:08:59Z","updated":"2019-09-12T14:28:01Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol season 11"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"introductions"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lj idol"}}],"content":"Many of you have no clue who I am, and that\u2019s good. I like that. No, in fact, I love that. Some of you may recognize my name but remember little else. That\u2019s good too. For those who do remember me, I almost wish you didn\u2019t. I wish I was coming into this world a nobody, to have no one know anything about me. I almost set up an alt, but I\u2019m too lazy for that. Besides, I\u2019m sure most people have no freaking clue who I am anyway, so we\u2019re all good.
Seven years is a long time to be away. In that time, my life has changed several times over. I don\u2019t even recognize the girl who wrote my entries seven years ago. I cringe at the thought of how I acted back then.
I\u2019m nothing like I used to be.
Some of you may remember me as a Midwestern girl who packed up her life and moved to California. Today, I\u2019m writing this entry from an apartment in Paris, eating French cheese on crackers and drinking some fancy lemon-flavored water. This is my new home, at least part of the time. Soon, it will be my full-time home.
Others of you may remember me as Annabelle\u2019s dog mom. You may remember how much I talked about her, how she was my entire world. She was my emotional support animal, the reason I\u2019m mentally stable today. Sadly, my sweet beast passed away only a few months ago, and I\u2019m still not dealing with it all that well.
Maybe I\u2019m overthinking this, but I feel like too many people remember me for my emotional state back then. I was not in a healthy mindset. There was so much self-loathing inside of me that I felt like I might burst with it sometimes. I relied too much on validation from others, I felt like I had to win in order to be worth anything in life.
But something shifted inside of me once I turned thirty. The older I get, the more comfortable I am in my skin, and the less I rely on others for validation or approval. It\u2019s been an amazing transformation and looking back, I don\u2019t even recognize my old self anymore.
The drama from the past is water under the bridge as far as I\u2019m concerned. I couldn\u2019t care less about it - and own my role in at as well.
I write for a living now - seriously, I\u2019m a full-time ghostwriter. The old me would never have expected that turn of events, but here I am. I\u2019ve written countless books over the years, many of which have become Amazon bestsellers. My writing has improved tremendously. I still deal with imposter syndrome a lot, and I don\u2019t think I\u2019m the best writer or anything - but I know I\u2019m good enough to get paid for it. I\u2019m happy with that.
Other general info for those who don\u2019t know me: I\u2019m mid-30s. I split my time between Paris and Los Angeles. I have two cats but live with a total of four. Oh, and we have three guinea pigs here in Paris too, can't forget about them. My boyfriend is French, and we met online. He\u2019s autistic, and I\u2019m going to be seeking a diagnosis for myself in the near future. I\u2019m definitely not neurotypical. I\u2019m a bit socially awkward, so good thing none of you will be meeting me in real life. My sense of humor can be a bit dry (and dark) at times - people often take me seriously when I'm joking. I'm hardly ever too serious, except when I am. I also tend to write dark fiction - my brain is pretty twisted and disturbing, but I promise I'm actually pretty optimistic most of the time.
Just a fair warning, my life is super busy - I am always working or traveling. My entries will likely be early drafts, as I don\u2019t have a lot of time to edit and proofread over and over again. This is meant to be fun for me, so I\u2019m not going to be a perfectionist. But I will always strive to put out the best possible work I have time for.
And I\u2019m always looking for new friends, so feel free to add me."},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:pixiebelle:813426","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/813426.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/pixiebelle.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=813426"}}],"title":"LJ Idol","published":"2019-09-06T16:00:53Z","updated":"2019-09-06T16:00:53Z","content":"You know, it feels weird to be back in the Idol world again. I know the game itself has changed over the years since I played, and God knows I've changed too. I think back on my old self and cringe, trust me. I was not in a good headspace back then. That's why I took many years off from it - I needed validation so badly back then. I was an emotional wreck. Therapy and growing up helped a lot, trust me.
I'm not the same person many remember me to be. These days, I make a living writing. I get paid fairly well for what I do, and I'm in demand. Most of the books I write for clients are number one on Amazon in several categories. I don't really need Idol to tell me I'm good enough anymore. I don't really care what folks think of me, honestly. I get paid to write and readers enjoy my books. That's all that matters to me anymore. I don't plan to check the polls. If I promote my work, it'll only be because I'm proud of what I've written and want to share it. I don't have any intention of promoting just to get votes. I'd like to stay in a bit, to get my voice back, but I'm pretty sure I won't have much time anyway, so... yeah. Not a huge concern for me to get voted out or anything.
I look back on my old work and cringe at that too. I thought I was good enough back then, but truth be told, I wasn't. I put out some good stories, sure, but a lot of it was not up to snuff for how far I'd gotten. And that's another thing -I don't care how far I get. I'm planning on either byeing out or dropping fairly early since I don't really have a lot of time on my hands. I really shouldn't be doing this - especially as I'm trying to move from the US to France within the next few months. I write so much for work, my brain is often mush - and my paid work will always come first. It pays my bills. If my clients ask me to do extra work, or I fall behind on my work (which let's face it, I always do because of my ADHD), then Idol gets pushed on the back burner. My boyfriend and spending time with him while I'm here (Idol happened to start while I'm visiting him in France) is more important too. I don't get to see him as much as I'd like (though I am here every few months, it seems, it's still not enough. Our time together is precious). It's going to be something I do in my very little free time, and if it becomes too stressful or no longer fun or easy for me to do, it'll have to go.
I'm not as competitive as I used to be either. No more alliances, no more strategy. I'm doing this for one reason - I want to write for myself again. My paid writing gets to be so boring after a while, I feel like I've lost my creative side. I'm hoping Idol brings that back for me. And I hope to meet some new friends on LJ since I'm using it more. I'd love to find other active users to read and talk to here. If anything, Idol will give me plenty to read. I'm trying to replace a mobile game addiction with Livejournal, and I'm tired of getting so pissed off at folks on Facebook. I want to socialize online, to read about people's lives and to share my own life in a way that just doesn't work on Facebook. I have a feeling most of my Idol pieces will be fiction (I feel like I've told most of my most interesting true stories in Idol already and don't want to repeat myself, and there are other things I won't talk about in Idol out of respect for someone I know through Idol), but my day-to-day posts will still be about my life. This is why I'm interested in friending people who are looking for more interaction on LJ outside of Idol."}]}