Dad Was Buried Today + Existential Ponderings

Yeah, that.  Dad was buried today, at 11am, and I couldn’t safely be there.  My heart was, and my thoughts, and my mind and soul and grief were there, but my body wasn’t.

That makes me feel…a lot of things, honestly.  Sadness, grief, regret, guilt, sorrow…

He’s irrevocably gone, now, no doubts about it.  Lowering the body into the ground and then covering it up with dirt has a certain cold and cruel finality to it, doesn’t it?

Oddly, I feel like I should feel guiltier about not being there.  To be sure, I feel quite awful that I wasn’t physically present at his grave site when his body was lowered into the ground and I will probably always feel very sad and torn about it, but on the other hand my dad would not have wanted me to expose myself to the virus, not with my health problems at any rate.  (From December into January he kept at me me until I finally got the flu vax…)

COVID-19, that horrid respecter of no one, is ramping up nastily in my area and he truly would not have wanted me to risk my life to pay respects to his empty shell.

He’s like me – the body is just the vehicle which enables us to exist on this planet, and once we’re through with it, it’s…meaningless? and should be left to return to the earth.  We should show respect, of course, through funerals and burials and familial rites and all that, but once the person inhabiting the body is gone, the body no longer serves a purpose other than to remind us of what was and will never be again.

Depending on your funerary traditions, it’s just a cold…mass lying in a cold place in the cold ground usually with a cold marker of some sort so you’ll know which of your dead is where.

It should be noted in one of my famous “interests of full disclosures” that I am by far not a “funeral person”, either.  (Got that from my dad, too.)  If I knew the person while they were alive, while their heart and soul and mind were engaged, why would I want to experience them without those beloved signs of life??  And when those parts of them are gone on, there’s nothing left but sorrow and grief and…and standing beside an opened and then filled hole in the ground won’t help at all with that.

According to my beliefs, in due course I will see my dead again.  They’ve gone on but aren’t forgotten, and until I’m with them again I’ll cry and then eventually I’ll try to remember them fondly rather than with huge fat tears rolling down my face.

We hold our dead firmly in our heart and our mind and our soul because that’s where they are; they are no longer inhabiting the “shell” they used while they were here and have no need for it…”there”.  We pay our respects to that which enabled them to walk our earth, and then we let it go, and we keep the parts of them that live in our heart and our mind and our soul because those are the parts that matter.

My mom and my dad mattered to me; she and now he still live on in my heart and my mind and my soul while I spend the rest of my days on this earth.

I appreciate you guys letting me whine and drone on at you about all this.  It’s doubtful that relating my on-going saga to you has helped anyone but I really hope it has.  We are creatures of emotions and we need a safe, welcoming place to let them run free and I hope you feel that “here” is safe and welcoming for yours, too.

If nothing else, I hope all this has encouraged you to hold on to you living stronger and better.  You can’t really do that anymore when they’re gone…and life really is shorter than you think.

Your support, and yes, I include your Paypal gifts in that, has truly been invaluable.  I’m sorry I haven’t been in a decent enough mind/emotion place to reply to all your wonderful comments here but I have genuinely cherished each one.

Y’all are some damn fine people, and when you share your grief, I grieve with you.  You are not alone.

I can promise you that.

Ok, here’s some generic “end of whine” housekeeping links to click or ignore:

Saga Pt. 1
Saga Pt. 2
PayPal b/c funerals are painfully expensive
Vit. D vid by a cool British doc b/c I don’t want you to die

Now go wash your filthy hands (and take your Vit. D – and no, it is NOT a cure-all but, srsly, look up the research on it FOR YOURSELF then make up your own mind).  If I’m not allowed to let a stupid COVID virus take me out, then neither are you.  I mean, y’all got pets and kids and, like, relatives and stuff who’d miss your ass.  Keep it safe and clean.

I’d miss you, too.  You matter to me.

I can’t swear there won’t be more whiny parts to this saga but I’ll try not to – I’m sure y’all have hella better things to do than read my rambles…and some of y’all need to get back into writing…

~Mer

 

On Life and the Vile Beauty of False Hope in the Time of Crisis

My dad won’t be coming home again. 

After traveling around the world working in beautiful and amazing and sometimes frankly dangerous places, my dad will doze the remainder of his life away in a hospice house.

Why?

Because cancer, lung cancer to be exact, robs dreams and lives and hopes and futures.

On March 13th, he was fine.  He ate a nice dinner (Salisbury steak on toast if you’re wondering), took a little nap in honor of his full belly, then later wandered through the house to eat half a fresh green pepper.  Eventually he and his doggie went to bed then a bit later I eventually went to bed, too.

Along about 4am-ish he banged really loudly on my bedroom door to wake me up because he was in physical distress.

He was shaking, clammy, his shirt and t-shirt soaked through with sweat…and he could neither catch nor keep his breath.

I called 911.

One of the last things he did before leaving the house, unknowingly for the last time, was make sure I had the keys to the car. 

The paramedics arrived in good time, quickly surveyed the scene, and within a few minutes they were walking him out of the house to the large “ambulance bed” waiting by the front door.

Dad left the house on his own two feet albeit greatly supported by paramedics.

So, early in the morning of March 14th, dad was admitted to the local hospital, put on a ventilator, and at some point in the mix suffered a mild heart attack likely from the physical stress of struggling so, so, so very hard to breathe.

Remember, this is happening during the major opening salvo of CV-19 – appropriate fears were being shaped, new information about the virus was coming at us right, left, and center.  We were worried that he had what will become known as “the virus”.

He was likely the first in my county, hell, in my part of the state (NC) to be tested and it took almost a week before it came back negative. 

I almost wish it had been positive – that would likely have been easier to cure.

The original diagnosis (while waiting for the results that his then-doctor and I both agreed wasn’t likely to be positive given all the data we had on hand at the time) was bacterial pneumonia.

Yucky, sure, but highly treatable, right, so treatment began.

For some reason, maybe a doctor’s “6th sense”, they sent him for a chest CT scan a few days after treatment began.

Tumor. 

Large tumor snuggling, strangling, around the branch leading into one lung and possibly into said lung as well.  The other lung has some “scar tissue” from a life-time of smoking (and likely inhaled desert sand/silica, who knows) but was nicely functional other than the pneumonia.

Tumor.

Tumors are treatable, right?  Chemo, surgery, radiation, options…lots of options…  Desperate hopes for desperate times, right?

So eventually my dad – still heavily sedated because he was still on the ventilator – was transferred via ambulance to a much larger hospital with many more pulmonologists specializing in…pulmonology things.

This hospital was 1.5 hours away…during the time of a pandemic crisis…may as well have been on a different fucking planet as far as actually being with him is concerned.

I have asthma (CV-19 STRIKE ONE) and am an insulin-dependent diabetic (CV-19 STRIKE TWO) and have COPD (chronic bronchitis if you care) ———– (CV-19 STRIKE THREE). 

No personal visits for this daughter.

I haven’t seen my dad since they took him away on that bed to the ambulance on March 14th.  If I become infected, I will most likely die.  If I remember to do so, at the end of this I’ll link to a couple YT vids by actual doctors that will scare you shitless about the damages this shitty bastard virus inflicts.

Anyway.

So now my dad is in a much better hospital surrounded by lots of super-docs and I’m being told that once he’s off the ventilator (after words like “bronchoscopy” and “biopsy” and “stents” are tossed around like parade candy) and his throat heals from the intubation and he can swallow and eat and drink on his own so he can start regaining his strength, they’ll likely choose radiation to combat the cancer rather than chemo that would be so much worse on him and surgery wasn’t possible given the location/etc of the tumor.

But:  YAY – hope!  A long and bumpy road, especially for him, sure, but hope!!

I’m calling for reports on him two and three times a day, often having the nurse hold the disinfected phone to his ear so I can “cheer at him” – he’d been in “isolation ICU” then when transferred to BiggerBetterHospital just “regular” ICU.

After a while…a very long while…he’s off the ventilator – yay, progress! – and a couple days after that he’s finally able to swallow and drink – granted he’s not back to “Salisbury steak on toast” yet, but still, yay progress!

Surely now that he can actively eat and drink he’ll start recovering his strength from the pneumonia and, dang, but his “heart numbers” had began falling the very night he’d had the problems so his heart’s pretty much ok, too, so there’s hope!!

Right?

Today I’m told he “isn’t a good candidate” for the radiation therapy because he’s so weak and to talk to the hospice coordinator. 

Shock.

Cold, trembly, stunned shock.

But…but wait…

Where did the hope go?

There was hope…and…and now there’s…not?

Why are they giving up on my daddy? 

Why are they shuffling him off to die “in comfort” but without hope?

My head doesn’t doubt their logic – he was on the ventilator for a long time and it did take him a couple days longer to reactivate his swallowing muscles, etc., etc., etc., but my heart is kicking and screaming and bawling her eyes out.

He’s my last parent – mom died in ’11 – and I don’t want to lose my daddy.

But I’m going to unless God drop-kicks a miracle down to his lungs.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve been…lied to?  Like I was given hope only to have it jerked out from under my feet for no good reason.

Hope can be a lifesaver, but, in my experience at least, it can be a cunning, devastating, heart-ripping lie.

So, that’s what’s been up with me.  I’ve been dealing – alone – with the terror of CV-19 while at the same time – and of vastly more specific importance to me – the terror of losing my father.

And because of everything going on and especially given my physical health and vulnerability to CV-19, I can’t find a job.  And because I can’t find a job, there’s no money for gas to visit him in hospice every day assuming I’m even allowed to do so.  There’s no money for a funeral, for a casket, for the burial. 

There’s just me, three cats, and a doggie who misses her daddy horribly.

We originally got Happy for mom – she wanted a little lapdog to enjoy while she became more and more sedentary because of her health problems (the original reason I’d moved back home in the first place – she needed help).  Soon enough that little ‘world’s largest chihuahua’ mutt became the world’s most spoiled UN-lapdog. 

She and daddy were perfect for each other and got along great whenever he’d come home on RnR from Baghdad and, when he retired after mom’s death, Happy became HIS dog.  She took up with him like crazy and they’d prowl around the yard and all on their walks; she’d pile up beside him on the sofa and easily eat half of whatever meat he was eating (“She knows that if she sits next to me she’ll get fed” he’d often say); she slept with him at night. 

They were the best of buddies.

But he’ll never be home again for her to pile up beside of to eat his food, beg for treats (little begging actually involved…) or nag him to take her out for a totally unnecessary walk…or anything.

It breaks my heart on her behalf and on his.

She keeps running through the house looking for him every time I bring her back in from the walks that he should have been taking her on in the first place.

This is killing me and that kick in the gut called “hope” is just making it all the worse.  I feel like the world, God, life, everything is just giving up on my dad and, through him, me.

So…that’s how all this is going for me.  I deeply and sincerely hope you guys are weathering all this shit better than I am.

This pandemic is fucking scary even without suffering through the slow death of a loved one.

I hope you have safe shelter and good food, that you have fun entertainment and protective gear if you have to get out for necessary work or supplies, but most of all…MOST OF ALL…I hope you are not alone.

“Alone” is a terrifying place to be when your world collapses.

After mom died, it was just me and my dad.  He was getting on in years (I was a late baby) and he’d never been one for cleaning house or cooking all that much, that kind of thing, definitely preferred doing the yard-work, tending cars, etc., so it was just simpler for me, already in bad health (whole other story), to stay home, keep him company, and deal with the house and the bills and the cooking, etc.

And so I did.  I quit work in I think it was 2007 to move “back into the family home” to take care of my mom when she needed it, but my health “broke” during that time so that when dad retired a couple months after her death, it truly was simpler to maintain the status quo doing all the things that dad didn’t particularly care to do.  At the time I was still actively writing which took up a LOT of my time as well. 

Life went on. 

And now it doesn’t.

No good deed every goes unpunished, eh.

He has, at best, maybe a month and the doctor wouldn’t even commit to that.

Please forgive any typos…don’t have the heart to read back over this given that I’ve wept the entire time I’ve typed it.  Sadly this wasn’t as cathartic as I’d have liked but I had to try.

What I hope that y’all take from this is:  I don’t know. 

I want you to love your loved ones with all your heart but at the same time I don’t want anyone to ever hurt like I am, so…find a balance? 

I want you to take hope when hope exists but I don’t want you to be kicked in the teeth by that same vile curse.

I want you to hold fiercely to your parents, by whatever definition, as long and as fiercely as you can, but at the same time I don’t want you completely and utterly devastated when they fade from your world.

This is real life and the pain, despair, and terror of this real life is killing me. 

There is no parting salvo to end this on a good note; I just don’t have it in me.

I do care a lot about y’all, so wash your nasty hands and stay home if you can and by all means, stay alive.

Here are some links.  The first one should scare you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4J0d59dd-qM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDAvxSKu5kc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5yVGmfivAk

And here’s my paypal if you’re able and inclined to help this constantly weeping daddy’s girl out during a devastating mess.

I’ve cried so much today that my eyes and nose are red and irritated and my head is pounding.  Tomorrow I “get” to park my dad in a hospice home where he will die.

All prayers, vibes, juju, etc., very sincerely appreciated.  Now go wash your hands again and stay home if you possibly can.  Nobody wants to lose you.

~Mer

An OB/GYN tackles menopause. There is no wisdom in suffering.

While I’ve not hit this era of my life yet (thank God – it sounds like the body becomes a freakin’ war zone complete with opposing bodily factions, ammo, and a “take no prisoners” attitude), I have to consider that at least a few of my readers are either approaching it or are there already and might need some backup, so maybe you guys might consider this information relevant.
(Plus if I reblog this I stand a better chance of actually finding it again however-much later when I might need it… Yeah, my brain’s still trying to track that FLM, y’all.)
Hope this is helpful to you, your mums, your aunties, your sisters, hell, maybe even your super-grumpy grandad…?

~Mer

Dr. Jen Gunter

There is no wisdom in menopause, only heat.

For many women there is also sleep disturbance brought on by a relentless cycle of waking in a drenching sweat, reigning fury on the sheets, then falling back asleep only to waken shivering as the perspiration evaporates while discarded pajamas silently torment from the corner of the bedroom.

And then there is dryness. Skin, hair, but especially vagina. It is like a desert storm, think shock and ow! not shock and awe.

Some women like to call their hot flashes power surges, but they leave me with no sense of strength. Maybe no one else sees the river of sweat on my top lip, appreciates the porcelain gripping nausea, or understands the gesture of grasping for something, anything, to fan my face, but I know and that is enough.

I don’t resent the aging, I resent the break in stride.

Hot flashes…

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A DIFFERENT MUSE NIPPED MY ARSE – (skip if you want, not an update)

I don’t write poetry so I wrote a poetry.  Go figure.  I blame that damn strange meandering-through muselette (not my MIA FLM who is still vacay’ing w/o me) for this wordage.  I may revise it, may not, who knows.  I don’t read this type of writing (poetry/poems) so I have no idea if it’s any good (any experience I ever had were haikus and rhyming crap, lol).  Enjoy?

What I Want

I want us, all of us, to be free
To be given the foundation, the grounding, of love and care
So that we may be free, boundless,
To fly and soar and dream far above the earth
To fly without fear of losing ourself,
To fly without fear of losing our way and our source and our time
To fly without fear of never finding home again
Yet free to find where our home should be
Free to find home and free to be home
Free to then fly solely for the joy of flight

~Mer

Asked and Answered

She lives!! (And we’re the better off for it, too!)

inlovewitheric

Hi there!

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA.  Life has gotten crazy and I’ve just started a new job – but I’m hoping the commute (by bus) will allow me an hour or so a day to write.  However, I’ve been ask on more than one occasion about Deathly Fashion Sense.  I’ve removed it to rewrite it.  But I’ve been asked if I can repost the original for those of you who want to read it again.

So, I’ve created a new location called Unscriptedthat will house such items.

Deathly Fashion Sense is reposted in all it’s faults, bad grammar and poor sentence structure.  But since it was my first story, I think I did pretty well.  At least I hope I did.

I’ll be posting the new version soon as well as working on the next episode of AED.

Thank you all for reading and sending me notes. …

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Remember AlphaEN’s DT;RT? Well, it’s now complete.

AlphaEN’s “Die Tonight; Rule Tomorrow” – sequel to her beloved “Put Me First” – is an old friend of mine.  We go way back, y’all, and the journey she takes Eric and Sookie through in both stories is filled with the most splendid ups, downs, sideways, and everything-in-betweens that you could want.

As some of you know, her site is password-protected, so if you reach a “blocked” page, just shoot off an easy request for the password and voilà – the magic of her writing is, can I say it…??  Magically accessible!  If you’ve never experienced that which is AlphaEN, start off with “Put Me First” then build up to “DT;RT”.  You’ll be glad you did.

I admit it – I’m sad the story, the grand adventure, is over, but I’m thrilled with how it all ended, thrilled that “our” Eric and Sookie have their well-deserved HEA.  I feel like one of my old friends has come of age now, and what an age it is!

Go forth, my friends, and enjoy the marvelous world of “Put Me First” and “DT;RT” – they’re complete in all their luscious, adventuresome, fantastical glory.   Be sure to let her know what you think of her chapters  – we writers love hearing from our readers – and enjoy.   She’s a great lady, a great writer, and a great friend.

Now I’m going to go pout that her stories – THAT I NEVER WANTED TO END – are complete…

*pfft*

~Mer

 

New Chapter – ON – 4th Night – Pt. 5

Hey, hey, stop throwing rotting veggies at me for taking so damn long!  (At least reach for the still-usable produce – I can make soup!  Oh, hey, a roast wouldn’t hurt, well, unless it’s frozen…)

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Just a THANK YOU!/update/other words

Here – catch:  a heart-felt (and probably painfully loud so you might wanna step back a bit…a little more…a little…ok, that should be about right) THANK YOU!!! to everyone who has donated to the GoFundMe!!!!

You are the very BEST readers and I absolutely appreciate every single one of you anyway, but your response to the GFM has truly blown me away.  Your support really does mean the world to me.

(I didn’t set the account up so I don’t know how GFM works so I don’t know how to individually thank the fantastic people who donated but I did want to thank you guys somehow!)

A better THANK YOU!!??

Eeeennyway…

The campaign has not ended.  I still have to go for daily super-strong antibiotic IVs (“infusions” or if you wanna be all medical, “infusion therapy”), bi- and sometimes tri-weekly doctor (usually nurse) appointments, and I have at least one (probably two but I’m hoping the dr forgets) more surgeries in my future.  (Oh, the joy.)  Bluntly, I’m doing a LOT better health-wise but I ain’t out of the woods yet – it was just *that* bad, previously. 

Here’s the handy-dandy link in case someone’s won the lottery:

https://www.gofundme.com/paying-it-forwardhelping-karen

Fic-wise, I *have* been thinking about my stories, especially The Moon and One Night.  Thinking…but not writing yet.   You’d think having to remain off my foot (and in/on bed/chair/wheelchair as I’m STILL not allowed to put ANY pressure on my foot AT ALL) for 23.5 hours a fucking day would be conducive to writing, however…it is not.  I’m still too damn frustrated over all this mess *to* concentrate effectively on all the ins and outs of my fics. 

(Why did I have to go and make them so dang complicated?  Granted they’re not nearly as complex as many of our other writers’ plots are, but still…*grumph*)

I did want you to know that I have not forgotten my fics, and I haven’t forgotten you guys, either.  This health mess is just taking for-freakin’-ever to resolve.  But it’s getting there.

Eventually.

Thank you again, and I really appreciate your patience, your kind support, and of course if, your hard-earned cash.   (You knew I was blunt, right?  I mean, rly, you knew this already, right? *innocent face*)

*snicker*

~Mer

Pondering Our TB/SVM Fandom ♥

Since True Blood ended/died in a bloody massacre, there have been thoughts, fears, and vague mutterings that our beloved fandom is dying (quickly, slowly, or otherwise). 

I don’t see it that way. 

To me, let’s just say that our fandom has become more… streamlined.  We started out as “a group of everyone” including the rabid, the flighty, the vaguely interested, the temporary, and the totally dedicated…and everyone in between.  Now, thanks to life and its sometimes-great, sometimes-cruel hand, we’ve evolved – we’re now distilled into a harder, stronger core group of readers, writers, and “both”.  At least, I like to think so. 

There are TB/SVM readers left and there are TB/SVM writers left, and the floor is always open to new readers and writers wanting to explore all-things-Eric-Sookie-Godric/etc.  Some readers only have a few minutes or hours a week to read, and some writers may only have a few stories to tell while others have many, but all are still welcome in our rather resilient fandom.

As for me, I’m not stopping, not yet.  I have stories to finish, and there are still some plots buzzing around in my woozy head that may demand to be told.  Thanks to a nasty medical emergency it might be a while until I can get things calmed down enough to actually write the words down on virtual paper, but they’re still in there somewhere.

Sadly, some of our writers didn’t want to leave yet life took them from us too soon and we’ll forever mourn their loss.  For hopefully better and never worse, quite a few of our writers have been swallowed up by their daily lives and left the fandom for innumerable reasons, and while we hope they’ll find their way back to us someday, we wish them well.

And then…there are the writers who have sharpened their teeth in our world and  gathered their courage to move on to other projects – our lovely Gyllene (click over and give her some love!) is the latest to venture forth on her own fantastic journey.

I want to wish her well on her future publishing venture and remind her that the door to our TB/SVM fandom is always open.  Her fanfiction talent will be sorely missed (and maybe she’ll bring coffee if/when she does return!) but I do hope to read her published works far sooner than later.  With her, I don’t sense that this is “goodbye”; it feels more like a “see ya soon…hey wait, Eric did what?!?” 

Again, our fandom isn’t <insert negative or melancholy thought here> – we’re simply streamlining – distilling down to our core, dedicated group of lovely readers, writers, and “both”.  And that proverbial door is always open!

More later,

~Mer

HEAD. DESK. – repeat x infinity

Massive icky medical bullshittery (in hospital 11 days)…discharged home Friday…has lead to Maximus Lifeus Fucking Interruptus for me.  Yep, I’m home now (and, srsly, thank God because if I had to spend ONE MORE FUCKING NIGHT in that rabid-marshmallow SUCK YOU IN AND NOT LET YOU GO torture device the medical community calls a “hospital bed” I would fucking blow an artery – really, have you ever tried to even just TURN OVER in one of those fuck-ass pieces of bondage shit?  Forget about trying to scooch around to get comfortable – it ain’t gonna happen) and slowly, slowly… – OMFGODRIC OH SO FUCKING SLOWLY – recovering, but now commences the ensuing daily – sometimes hourly – load of (bullshit-infested) You Have Got To Be Shitting Me + This Is A Load Of Bullshit * What, Again?? chaos.

At the end of it all, though, I am alive.  My nerves are rattled, my daily life is disordered to fuck-all and back, and my sanity after all that may be questionable (fucking hospital beds and their “breathing” mattresses meant to keep bed sores, kind thoughts, and actual rest away can go fuck themselves with their electrical cords), but life goes on in all its battered, misbegotten, ill-spent glory.

I am working on fics – I am (dude, SEVRIN anyone??) – but I doubt Eric would appreciate it if I went off on a rant during a “tender scene”.  (I dunno…he’s a vampire of experience…he’d probably get a kick out of it;  Sookie…not so much, and I’m not gonna go pissing off fairy hybrids, well, not yet…)  Sevrin would probably kind-of maybe get off on some of my tangents…well, in my imagination he would…  *dreamy sigh*  Oy – someone call Willa off me!

So, that’s the State of My Life now.  Ah, the joys…

(Place awkward transition here) All this shit is expensive (the pain, aggravation, and the accompanying bitching/whining are free, though, fwiw…lucky me), all of it, even stupid medical supply things and drugs that you’d never thought you’d have to have, the costs of hospital stays and “specialist” consults and x-rays and a vampire-colony’s worth of blood tests every hour…  *sigh*   A wonderful friend of mine started a GoFundMe for me and while it might be bad form to hawk it here, well… *pfft*…catch:

https://www.gofundme.com/paying-it-forwardhelping-karen

Donate if you want, broadcast if you want – I tucked it in here at the bottom of the post all sneaky-like so that no one would feel obligated.  I’m awesome like that (or at least I try).

Anyway, hope you guys are having a better day/week/month than I am.

~Mer

Generic Update of ON Updatedness *wee teaser*

…or something.  This is just me letting you guys know that I’m only a day or three away from the next ON part (depending on that interferin’ RL thing).

Do y’all give a shit about word counts?  If you do, right now it’s at 6,708 (and growing) according to Word (WP counts differently for whatever reason).  If you don’t, unread that last sentence; I’ll wait.

Anyway, here’s an un-final-FINAL-drafted wee teaser for ON, 4th N, Pt. 4…aka: One Night, The Fourth Night, Part 4 iffin you wanna be all official an’ shit…  You know the drill:  the following is subject to minor/possibly major/whatever changes before posting.  (Bits and pieces of this Part keep magically disappearing – might wanna keep this for posterity cause technology keeps fucking with me…)

•~•0•~•

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*peep*/TEASER

Now you can’t say you haven’t heard a peep out of me, right?  *glances around room*

Anyway, RL, blah blah blah – hey, do you want a teaser for One Night – The Fourth Night – Part 3?? 

THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FINISHED YET – I just wanted to let you guys know/give you visual proof that I am, in fact, actively working on it.  I won’t say anything about the three OTHER versions of this chapter I’ve already written then tossed.  Nope.  Not a word about I’d get so far into the chapter then decide it wasn’t good enough/didn’t feel right/sucked ass and hit that lovely delete key.

See?  Not a word…about murdering my own words.  *sigh (This totally counts as “suffering for your art”, btw.)

Anyway, at some point in the near-to-faaaar future the rest of this chapter will magically appear before your very, um, inbox.  There is more written than I’m posting as a teaser – hey, a girl’s gotta have SOME secrets, right – I just wanted to give y’all a bit of proof since it’s been a while.  You know the rules –  the material is subject to change, corrections/additions/substitutions may be made, read it again when it’s actually posted to be sure, etc. 

But yeah, here: catch!

Wait, no, um…where were we?

With as much grace as he could muster under the slightly painful and highly frustrating circumstances, Eric followed his silently smirking Maker out of the house to the burgundy SUV somehow ready and waiting at the top of the circle.  As he folded himself into the vehicle with a grimace, he had to be glad of the additional leg-room provided by the SUV’s design and wanted to think he had successfully hidden his…discomfort.

Sookie’s impromptu hair petting session had left his pants tighter than comfort would allow but unfortunately that wasn’t a new thing where she was concerned.

For fuck’s sake…  Why, after a literal millennia, am I suddenly so susceptible to one woman’s touch?  Why?  Granted during my toddler years…so easily excitable…but that was then…!  I’d gotten over that, surely?  Untried 15-year-old boy now…  Ugh!  Down through the ages…the most beautiful women…the loveliest maidens…could choose at will…  Never had a problem performing, could go for nights on end, but could easily turn from such distractions when I wanted or needed to…  Now…now all one little shit – a fucking virginal shit at that although she had to have known exactly what she was doing…all she has to do is run a dainty little fingertip down my ear and I’m fucking toast…  Could it be the fairy allure?  Doubt it…that would lead to draining more than fucking, although that could be part of it…  No, this is all…her…no desire to drain her, only to fuck her senseless…

Godric remained silent as he drove them toward Dallas proper.   Normally he enjoyed a bit of speed to liven up any drive – vamping, as the young ones called it, was much more preferable, but what can you do? -but he proceeded more sedately to give his child a chance to reclaim the necessary facade.

Sookie…what a cheeky brat!  And so perfect for his complicated progeny!  Buy his child a treat indeed…small bouncy balls sounded more appropriate by the minute.

He’d most certainly heard what had taken place between Eric and Sookie both during his telephone – annoying things, those – conversation and thereafter.  Sookie would likely have been mortified if she’d known…the child had yet to understand just how powerful vampire senses could be.  She would learn in time, though.

Vampires never had the luxury of not knowing.  Whether for better or worse, from the time of their first rising there would always be few secrets of a physical nature between vampires in close proximity one to the other even when they didn’t share a familial bond; that bond simply ensured that were far fewer secrets.

It was necessary for survival and he had routinely thanked whatever gods there might be for it’s existence especially during Eric’s baby and toddler years, but the night a vampire was made was the night any hope of privacy died. 

Unless the progeny suddenly became Makerless; it happened.  Regardless, with age came knowledge of how to limit most perceptible physical responses, and with age also came knowledge of how to limit what passed from one familial vampire to the other.

Just now the spikes of confusion, frustration, and curiosity bombarding him from his progeny were, however, incredibly entertaining. 

He sensed when Eric finally reclaimed a few of his more important mental processes although he couldn’t hold a bit of night-dreaming against the boy.

So…there ya go.  I still exist, this story is still under construction, allergies suck, and I know of at least one litter box that needs de-clumping.  Oh, the joy.

Have a great weekend,

~Mer

Hundreds of Place Names of Old Norse Origin in the British Isles

Of likely interest to many of my readers:

Many English villages and towns were founded by Vikings. (Photo: John Baker/ videnskab.dk)

In the 9th and 10th centuries Norwegian and Danish Vikings crossed the ocean and sailed to the British Isles, and their legacy is still very much alive: Hundreds of place- and personal names of Old Norse origin tell that the Norsemen not only came to plunder, but that many also chose to settle on the isles to the west.

A recently published article in Antiquity, international quarterly journal of archaeological research, suggests that the number of Scandinavians have been larger than previous DNA studies demonstrate: As many as between 20,000 and 35,000 Vikings may have relocated to England.

The Vikings did have a strong influence on the English language, including place- and personal names, which is the linguistic evidence for the high number of settlers, according to the language researchers.

When the Scandinavians arrived in England…

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ON – 4th Night – Pt 2 is up!

First, thank you very much for all your kind words and concern.  You guys are the best readers any fanfic writer could ever ask for and you’re mine-all mine-all mine!!  Ok, and other writers’, too…but that’s not the point… 

Srsly, thank you – I really do appreciate you.

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Power to the People

Yes.

I don’t want to get too political here because that’s not what this blog is for, but since this blog has the most followers I wanted to share something. If you’re planning on protesting tomorrow, Saturday or any other time please keep the following information handy. It takes just one person to tip the scales from peaceful to violent and then all hell breaks loose. So whatever side of the aisle you’re on, please be safe and peaceful. The message gets lost when heads get bashed.

As far as I’m concerned, Love Trump’s hate.

All my love,

Meg

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Classes, Twitter, and Agents! Oh my!

Follow her other accounts – you know you ♥ her!

MySecretOFanFiction

How is it December already? More importantly, what happened to November?

I’ve been forcing myself into the role of being a respectable author, which means taking classes to improve my querying skills (which I hate, just so we’re clear). Nothing makes me more uneasy than selling myself to complete strangers. I’ve spent the last month preparing to query literary agents. They’re hard to find and they all want different things. How do I cope with my anxiety, you ask? I stress-eat and forget to sleep. That’s healthy, right?

Okay, maybe it’s not.

To top it off, today was the first #PitMad I’ve participated in. Four times a year, you can pitch to agents, publishers, and editors who are scrolling through Twitter to find new clients. You get three tweets for the entire day. Three.

No pressure.

If they like your tweet, you submit to them and go to the top…

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Story Recs: You Don’t Choose Your Family

Love how the ‘Bangers Anon site recommends some of the best stories and writers! Enjoy the reblog while I finish up my sooner-than-later post… Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!

The TB/SVM Writers Directory : Fangfuckingtastic FanFiction

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Orphaned and ‘unseen’ by her Faery relatives, Sookie isn’t one with a large family, and thankfully, there are the loveable Gran and idiotic Jason to fill some of that void. Though, in some cases, Sookie’s biological family isn’t all they promise to be, and the one she carves for herself through long and loyal friends or in the midst of a variety of Supernaturals, one of whom is, of course, always Eric, may mean just as much, if not more, than the one she was born into. So, during those moments when you’ve had quite enough of your own family, how about living vicariously through Sookie? We can’t help but mention EricIzMine’s “Mutli-verse”, who, without a doubt, lifted the ensemble casts of SVM into a warm bath of family with some of the most impressively written children in the fandom! If all you have time for is a…

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An “I Yet Live” Teaser (One Night – Third Night – Last Pt.)

The Plan:  I hope to have this Part finished in time to post it tomorrow as a Thanksgiving treat for those of us who, you know, do Thanksgiving, and as a (hopefully good) read for those of us who don’t.  Either way, everything goes better with gravy, right?

Now, usually when I dare to make a plan, things tend to go nuts – sometimes in a good way, other times…not so much  That’s why I tend to NOT make plans, but yeah, that’s where I’m at with this next Part.   This last portion of the Third Night will be somewhat shorter in that it covers a shorter amount of time (nights don’t generally last forever even though I seem to make it look like they do)

To tide y’all over until I can hit that lovely Publish button, here’s a teaser.  As usual, it isn’t likely to change all that much (if at all) between now and when it’s officially posted, but then again, ya never know.

Anyway, here – BE TEASED, READERS MINE!

As Eric crossed the threshold into his Maker’s home with his new telepath close by his side, a certain overview of his actions occurred to him.

So here I am…a vampire well over a thousand years of age…a vampire who has achieved that somewhat rare status by being cold, hard, wary…  Ok, ok, suspicious, devious, and more astute than potential and known foes…and yet…yet I am purposefully escorting a mortal…a fucking part-fairy mortal…into my Maker’s home…and I have only known the delicious little mortal for not quite three nights now.

And she is delicious…but that wouldn’t be worth the potential threat if she had ill-will toward us in her heart.  At least there’s a bond…helpful, that… Something about her…don’t think she’d be a threat, not to our existence anyway… But still…

Brilliant, Northman…way to uphold my Maker’s teachings about security…an unglamorable telepathic mortal at that…  *snort*  Well, considering that said Maker is holding the door open for me to bring her in…basically makes it his fault, right?

Yeah, I’m totally going to blame this one on my Maker.  He’s good for it…

“Fairy nice to meet you” indeed…

Ancient brat.

Eric couldn’t decide if he was surprised or not with how Godric, his shockingly old, shockingly powerful Maker, was by all accounts glad to receive not just him (justifiably, of course), but the girl as well.  He had even gone out of his way to lightly – even playfully – test her mettle with his own particular…peculiar, to some…brand of mischievous theatrics which, to his pride, she had passed with those proverbial flying colors.

To make the evening even more surreal to the vampire, the very young mortal girl by his side had oddly few trepidations about entering the home of such an ancient vampire.  There were some, of course…just not nearly as many as would be considered normal in his esteemed opinion. His hand on the small of her back served to soothe what misgivings did surface but he sensed far stronger emotions than fear.

Curiosity?  Oh yes…lots of that…some fatigue…but no more than expected for a mortal soon needing her rest…but true fear?  *pfft*  More humor than that…

That slight nervousness he’d felt from Sookie had swiftly changed to comfort at his touch, and the speed with which his hand merely caressing her lower back had soothed her pleased him in a way he couldn’t immediately identify.  However, given that he was growing accustomed to such unanswered questions, he chose to ponder the vagaries later.

He glanced down at the back of her head as he politely allowed her to precede him – she barely come up to his collarbones, but her presence seemed so much larger.

As safe as he knew his Maker to be in this current situation, she was wise to…

Even innate bravery is wise to quail, however briefly, at the thought of entering into the dwelling of such an ancient…remarkably aged…like a fly easing into the spider’s web…  Godric…spider…should I introduce him to the one that lives in Sookie’s grandmother’s kitchen?  They both excel at watching from a distance. 

Ah, Sookie…  Will I have to tell her in small words that vampires are dangerous to mortals?  She knows this, of course, how could she not, but she treats us as fellow humans.  Perhaps that is part of her charm?  Perhaps it is a certain charisma? According to my Maker and both her sweet scent and taste…  Fairies do have a form of influence…  Thank Odin she’s using her powers for good…

Once in the large foyer, Eric automatically closed the door behind them and watched with bemusement similar to what he felt from Sookie as Godric raised Tina’s carrier to peek at the cat.

Although the old man had grabbed the old carrier from the porch, the son knew the father was distinctly aware of the vagaries of thought plaguing the son’s mind about the fairy freaking hybrid said son was escorting into said father’s house.

The smug pings from the father told the son so.

So yeah, there’s that.  Remember, it might change, it might not…blame the FLM (I do).  I ***hope*** to have the Part finished in time to post it tomorrow, but we’ll see.  No throwing things at me if I don’t… I’ll cry and I can’t type for shit when my eyes are all blurry…

If nothing else, have a fantastic Thanksgiving if you’re celebrating, and have a fantastic Thursday if you’re not!  😀

~Mer

 

1 Night-3rd Night-Pt. 5: NOW WITH MORE GODRIC is up!

Also with added Berts…

YES!! You read that right:

There is a Sigebert, a Wybert, AND A GODRIC in this Part…yes, THIS Part!! 

AND.  A.  GODRIC. Continue reading

Reads you don’t want to miss…

Update and info from our own September Roberts (aka My Secret O in when writing fanfic)!

I can personally vouch for the quality, quirky humor/fun, and touching emotional stuff (basically, the EXTREME readability) of In Your Shoes, Leaving Twisted Juniper, and Synthetic Heart . An agent would be lucky to have her (you hear that Agents-Who-Are-Surely-Lurking-My-Blog?)…

Check out what she has published! (And buy stuff – happy writers write more fanfic…) *no end-game here…move along*

I’m finishing up the next chapter of Moon, so that should be coming at’cha sooner than later ♥

September Roberts

Hey! Did you know I’ve published three books and a novelette? It’s true!

My first novel, Orchids for Lila is an angst-free paranormal erotic romance about a young woman, Lila Ray, falling in love with Jack, a reclusive vampire. Life is a lot more interesting when you’re dating a vampire. You can buy it here.

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I took a different route the second time around and published a new adult contemporary romance titled Sweet Chemistry. Kate and James have a promising night together, but all that goes out the window when Kate discovers James is her professor. Forbidden love has its sweet rewards, but is it worth risking everything? You can buy it here.

LSB Cover Art Template for PhotoShopKiss & Ride is a quick read and a sweet story about a budding romance between strangers on a train. Anne finds out that turning her fantasies into reality is going to take a giant leap of…

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One Night, Part Whatever, is up + OMGODRIC, YOU GUYS – THANK YOU!!!!!

Keep in mind that you guys are not allowed to yell at me because I’ll cry and get all red-eyed and snotty (srsly, I have a terrible cry-face), ok?  (ThisparticularNightwillhaveaPart5.)
(IfItellyoulikethisitsoftenstheblow,right?)

Pack a lunch.  And dinner.  And some snacks.  Oh, and you guys may wanna take notes as you go – this bad boy is…you guessed it…hella long.  You’ll see why I stopped it when I did.  It’s also why it took for fucking ever to get it out to you, too. (FLM told me to say that.)

So…you lovely readers who like long reads will be in Heaven.  You lovely readers who don’t…can take several breaks – just remember where you left off…  This Part happens within a relatively short time and contains funny-ha has, seriousness, a gasp or two, mountains, correct pronunciations, a Pam, a cat, a ‘vette, and maybe a couple of cherries (Eric refused to verify).  Proceed with vigor!  😉

One Night

Now:

gold heart THANK YOU Godric and Eric thank you2 Thank you2

OMGODRIC, YOU GUYS – THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

When the fantastic Missingjasamalways commented to tell me to check out the YWB winners…I did…AND THEN I SCARED MY DOG SQUEEEING!  (Yes, “squeeeing” is too a word.)

Thanks to you fanfuckingtastic readers AND VOTERS!!!, I won 8 Awards!

That’s eight.  E.I.G.H.T.  7 + 1.  ***—>  8  <—***  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

That is 8 (EIGHT!!!) more than I’d had a hope to win, y’all, and it’s all because of YOU.  Did you see how fierce the ‘competition’ was?  (And by “competition” I mean that we’re not actually competing against each other – we may not all be best buddies but we’re hella more likely to support each other than not because there’s no NEED for any competitive feelings in our luscious fandom.)  There were so many amazing writers and amazing stories and you guys voted for me!
THANK YOU!!!

Can I brag now??  *pfft*  Given ALL the AMAZING talent represented in these awards, hell yeah Imma brag:

First and foremost considering the new Part linked above, here is the one for One Night:  PINS AND NEEDLES, Y’ALL – PINS! AND! NEEDLES!!!  THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Hit Me With Your Best Shot Award – Best One Shot

The Hybrid Award – Best Crossover

Rollercoaster Award – Best Angst / Drama / Cliffhangers

The Saucy Award – Best Sookie  (Woot!!  Go Sookie!!  Yeah, I’m totally seal-clapping here…oops, sorry for any flashbacks…)

The Flying Monkey Award – Best Villain  (*mwahahaha*)

Who the Hell Are You Award – Best Original Award  (Yay for Sevrin!!!!  He totally just grunted a thank you…FLM will verify!)

And last but hella-certainly not least:

EricIzMine Award – Favorite Author  (Ok, this one made me tear up a little/lot – you have no idea how very much I appreciate this.)

Really, thank you so very much for all the love.  It means the world to me that you find time in your day to read my words and let me know what you think, but that you even take the time to cast your votes for me blows my socks off.   (You did know I’m naked under my socks, right?  NO BLUSHING…!) Now go read and enjoy, and know you’ve made me very happy!

~Mer

 

Happy Friday’ing – STC, Ch. 31, is up!

Because you’re not here to listen to me blather on about whatever (well, ok, you kind of are, fanfic-wise at least…), here’s the chapter link first:

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Question and Other

Ok, readers-mine, time to touch base with y’all again.  As enthusiasm for “One Night” seems to be waning (like tides and allergies, it happens…, and while clicks on the page haven’t fallen all that much, page likes and reviews *are* down from previous Parts so it’s kind of obvious), which other stories would you prefer that I concentrate on instead?  Lol, we have choices…

(Moon isn’t listed because it depends more on the FLM than I’d like for her to know.)  (See also:  SEVRIN…)

Now, for the “other” – to correct a typo on the YWB page, the site is allowing voting to continue until Oct. 22nd now, so go back, vote for your faves and, I dunno, have a coffee and think fondly of me and Eric’s Spider or something, lol.

*snicker*  Kittyinaz suggested nominating Eric’s spider (*spoiler* to be named later by, well, Eric himself) for Best OC next awards season…and I totally support that notion.  No, I haven’t told Eric yet…I’m smarter than that (usually).

Anyhu, lemme know what story you want updates on next!  (If “One Night” recurs in the comments, then I’ll definitely listen, but you guys deserve options.)

NOTE:  I am not bitching about the falling number of likes and comments – I’m thrilled that even ONE of you guys likes it enough to, yeah, like and comment.  But…I *am* reacting to the (inevitable) trends in how interest in stories can fluctuate – srsly, like tides and allergies, it happens (hence these annoying polls from time to time).  So, yeah, the story is in no danger whatsoever – I just want to know what you’d *rather* be reading and will attempt to bribe the FLM accordingly.  (And she just totally flipped me off, btw…*sigh*…)

Have a <beverage of choice> day!  (And yes, that banner was chosen just because I’m kinda hungry.)

~Mer