Maybe It Is Good To Let This Out So I Don’t Have To Explode On People When I Do See Them Every Other Blue Moon


It is not the fairest arrangement in the world, the migraine sufferer and reality and the little dance that we have with one another over and over again.

The day started off well, I got three big pieces written, two of which I am pretty happy with and I was going to start on a fourth when it felt like the hammers of Hades clamped on to my skull and they have been planted there ever since. Ia m not asking for your pity or your advice, I know what limited things I can do and I have done them. I know you all feel bad or me, and I appreciate the non-patronizing ones among you. I do not want links to websites telling me to soak my feet, freeze my skull, electroshock, diversion therapy, endorphin release and the thousands of other things that some good meaning people, and some horrible shills, have posted on the Internet over the last decade or two.

You know what I want, honestly? If you said yes then this next part is going to get a little graphic. If you said no, look at something else and come back and read something new by me tomorrow, or don’t.

I want to be able to wake up and not smell blood. I haven’t woken up when my migraines are bad, without a bloody something in YEARS. Eyes, nose, ears, biting my mouth raw, nipping parts off my tongue. Or maybe not grinding my teeth, talking in my sleep so loud I wake others up. Being so hot that I have had the air conditioner on for years without abatement. I want to stand up and not feel the world spinning, I want to sit down and not have my pulse pound in my temples like a runaway locomotive. I want to wake up at the ghastly hours I need to and simply be a whole person, a complete and whole person who is not broken and losing bodily fluids, in agonizing pain, or the ever-present wall of depression, anxiety and self-loathing that comes with knowing I am not going to be able to do the things I wanted to do for yet another day.

I don’t even want that every day, I would take one day a month. I would take one doctor’s appointment a year where they even believed me anymore. Y’all ever wonder why they never change my medication to try something new? They either think it is terminal or they think I am lying my ass off for the free, non-narcotic, medications they give me that take so little off the edge of things that they might as well do nothing at all.

So yes, I am bitching my head hurting, and yes, it dramatically affects my mood, and yes I would do anything to make it all stop, and yes, even that thing crosses my head from time to time.

Truth and Love Are Oft Close Friends, But Not Until We Add The Sameness Of The Spirit Do We Find The Blossoming Of The Soulmate Emerge Into The World.

Madame Victoria

Victoria, a wonderful name that had served her for more years than she would care to admit. She would, in moments of humor, admit to stealing it from the Queen, she had loved the way it rolled off of her tongue the first time she had said it aloud and decided to simply become Victoria, and she had been doing that ever since. In time another name would take hold of her mind and she would become the person that name required her to be. Victoria lent itself to pomp, circumstance, elegance and wealth. All of those things were pleasant so the transition was an easy and quick one. Buying some properties here, having a fleet of horses there. It had bee decades before she had to use a little glamour to make people come back to the path she wanted them to walk on because it was a simpler time. There was no Internet and Television, hell radio wasn’t even a thing yet. So when she claimed her wealth and showed it, she was respected on that alone. It is when the communication became so blasted easy that she had had to modify a few things.

The knock upon her dressing room door made her shake herself from her cobwebbed mind and she made sure she used her voice to maximum effect as she answered the knock. “But a moment lovelies, I am putting my face back on, can’t let a Goddess be seen without her makeup now can we?” She waited for and smiled at the laughter she had expected and quickly moved her hands over her body and her clothes shifted into what she needed. No longer on stage, the regal bearing had to go, she needed intimate, approachable, so it was simple cloths, muted colors, showing off the marks just so that they would understand what she was and where she came from, to a point.

Standing, she walked to the door and prepared her best smile as she pulled it open. Before her was quite a dapper man, mid-fifties she suspected. His smile as real as any she had seen in some time and she looked over to Lou, who gave her a subtle nod and she opened the door wider and the man walked through the door.

Now is when the reasons these people came to see her would become crystal clear.

The man had sat down, his hands politely in his lap without showing nerves. His eyes followed her but not with the puppy dog-like adoration she sometimes saw in the men, and women, who came back to see her after the show. No, he wasn’t here to try and play Fuck the Fae, there was a deeper purpose to it and seeing as she knew precisely how much Lou charged people to even knock on the door, whatever he was here for was very important to him indeed.


He looked up at the woman as she closed the door without noise and made her way to the very comfortable divan in the corner of the room. She looked at him with eyes that expected absolutely nothing. No rush or worry, nothing except patience he had never seen in anyone before. he had a feeling she could recline on that divan for years without moving a muscle and not be irritated with him at all if she so chooses. Sadly, the man had a limited amount of time to be here, so he took a chance and decided to get right to the point.

“Madame Victoria, I know that you must have a great many people come into your room and ask you for favors ranging from the rudimentary mundane to things laced with that which is phantasmagorical in all of its essences. I am here to ask of you a boon, yes, but I hope that you will hear me out before you decline.” His eyes looked to hers to see what her reaction thus far.

She smiled softly to him and sat up, her fingers steeples in her lap as she spoke. Her voice was not as honeyed as it had been on stage, but, of course, it wouldn’t be now, would it?

“Firstly, I haven’t heard someone utter the word phantasmagorical in over a hundred years. It is a word that has sadly fallen out of favor in the day and age of the text message and the acronyms for virtually everything. Secondly, I give you my word on the Darkness that Consumes that I will listen to your request and give it every bit of my attention before I judge it as a deed I am willing to do.”

He swallowed as he heard Victoria speak the oath on the Darkness. He was not an expert in such things, but he knew it was not words that her kind used lightly, the consequences of being an oathbreaker were dire if the memory served. Even he had heard of the Wild Hunt and their eternal mission to bring oathbreakers to justice who had sworn such an oath.

“For your pledge to even hear my plea I will gladly give you everything in my name.” He straightened his back as he sat as his mother had taught him so very long ago. “My name is Bertran, I was born in the year of our Lord eleven hundred thirty and five in the cathedral at Carlisle in Cumbria. My dear mother was an indigent who felt shame at having a son out of wedlock, her beau having left her after they had consummated their relationship, his promise of marriage a lie, and she was an outcast. her family disowned her and only the church would allow her sanctuary to give birth to me. We lived there until I came of age, helping in the maintenance of the church, my mother taking her vows when I left to seek my own life.” he stopped speaking and noticed that Madame Victoria looked at him with piercing eyes, seeking anything she could from him. She spoke, her voice not hiding the emotion welling up in her throat.

“You speak to truth to me Bertran of Carlisle. You are not of any Fae line, nor are you of the darkness that makes the immortal promise to the weak, tell me now why you have lived nearly nine centuries as a man of flesh and blood and no magic and have not died. Tell me this now and swear upon the Darkness your words will be true or I shall deliver to you the Hunt myself.” Her words sounded bloodied even to her own ears, but she needed to know how this man existed. She felt not afraid of him, to be with someone even a thousandth of her own age made her feel youth she had not felt since the glaciers still shaped the world.

Victoria swallowed hard, her eyes welling with tears as she read the man’s story in the same writing that adorned her body She learned everything he was at that moment. The magic of the writing told her more than simply words. She composed herself, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

“Forgive my emotion, I thought all of them had died long before you were born. No, you are of them, you are the descendants of those that gave me the godhead. So, as the Goddess you did not know your whole life, I swear on the Dark Goddess herself, may her wrath upon me be eternal if I break my oath, that I will do anything you ask of me if it is in my power to do.” She stood and quickly made her way to him and kissed him softly on the forehead. As she did the lines, on her and him glowed as the sun as like recognized like.

Oppositions, For What Is A Chess Game If There Is No One To Play Against? What Is The Purpose Of A Game If You Know All The Results In Advance?


Siobhan had divided the world betwixt the loves that she cherished more than any other, but that does not mean for a moment that the Dark Goddess was idle, she did not disappear into the Darkness from whence she came and was left to be forgotten by the thousands of generations from that moment until this one. Whilst Beithíoch and Neart guarded the entirety of the worlds Siobhan had created with them, the Dark Goddess created more things than anyone ever thought Her responsible for. They gave credit to authors and songwriters, the idiocies of radio, television, and movies. They took it from…..However, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself, however, let us go back to the moment where Siobhan walked into the Void of the darkness and pick up our tale and tell it as it should be told.


The world safe, Siobhan walked to the home she had always known, the dais not empty, even without Beithíoch and Neart to sit with her for they were always in Siobhan’s mind and heart. She could tell what they were doing every moment if she so desired, but she trusted them implicitly and would only check in on them when she felt a need come across that she did not find an easily explained thing.

No, there were things that only Siobhan could take care of, things that Neart and Beithíoch would be able to comprehend in the slightest. Their great wisdom combined would not understand why Siobhan had, in the paradise universe she had made for all of them, created an enemy for herself. Not just one enemy at that.

As the metamorphosis was occurring, there was a need, a raw and burning need to have in the world something to strive against. Something to pit her will, her power, her charms, everything that Siobhan had at her disposal, against. So in the greatness of the moment, she had allowed the seeds of these adversaries flow from her and into the Universe. She had not cheated however, she did not know where they were, what they could do, even how strong they were in comparison to her. She had purposely allowed that knowledge to be kept from her. It is not a battle if you can so easily defeat them that you against is it?


In the depths of the glacier, there was not cold and dark, but a paradise of color as the light reflected infinitely off the ice and rainbows like dust motes populated the air. The people that sat and watched them with awe were simple people, yes, but they had within them the power to harness the power of the light they fawned over. They had with them the power to direct it, intensify it, manipulate it. They were savages who had not been shown the free meat of the kill, infants who had never known the struggle.

Tall they were, all of them almost the same in the soft pink of their skin and white of their flowing hair. Thin and well-muscled, piercing blue eyes that saw anything that the light touched.

Save one.

There was a little boy, exiled by choice, whose skin was black like the night they had never known and eyes red like the fire that was sometimes used in the sacred rites. He had never once fit in with the people of the cold, he longed to feel the sun on his skin and to feel it coursing through him, allowing him to take, to kill, to destroy without thought. He did not think himself good or evil, those words were meaningless to him. he simply saw himself as strong and they as weak and they needed someone to show them the proper path to get them to rule the places of Light and to drive the Darkness out and forever purge the land of it.

he knew he could not do it yet, he was but three seasons into the thousand season life and still, his strengths were coming, all of them twisted like deformity of darkness that had afflicted him since his birth. His mother had tried to love him, she had never once shunned him, but he could tell he disgusted her, disgusted them all.

All of them would pay for it, all of them would know that the Light was the power he would take from them and before he killed them all as he had the first few who strayed too far, they would worship him as the Lord of Light and would know all of their dreams would be destroyed before he ripped them apart and feasted upon them.


Her hands had been bound behind her back, her arms then raised above her and she was hung by her wrists. The agony was intense and continuous. Her screams echoed off the trees and there was no one who could not hear the woman who had killed one of her own and been caught looking at his entrails, blaspheming the rites of her people and looking for dark portents in the blood and viscera that occasionally she would shyly place into her mouth and close her eyes in pleasure at the taste of the mother of her childhood friend.

She had not resisted when they came for her, she had never tried to deny anything that she had done. Lying was for lesser beings, besides, she truly did know the future and even all the agony she was to endure was not that which would kill her, and in that there was an infinite comfort.

So, pain raged through her as her shoulders dislocated first. The pain was dulled as she passed out from it and when she woke again her legs felt so heavy. She looked down and saw they had tied boulders to them, her elbows and wrists screaming in pain, her ankles and knees near the breaking point. They did not want to kill her, they would have done so if that is what they craved. No, they wanted something far more ruinous for her.

Among her people the worst punishment was not the things they were doing to her now, no those were simply the opening moves in a longer dance. Her people were not kind, they were worshipers of a dark goddess that no one knew the name of and they regularly sacrificed their own to her. What they were mad about is that she had not dedicated to the sacrifice when she had butchered her friend. So now, she would be rendered a cripple, then other and far darker things would be done and finally, she would be left alone, shunned and forsaken to wander the world without their darkness in her eyes, with no love for the dark goddess in her heart.

Little did they know she had known and planned for precisely that.

Over-Communication, Kids Being Home, and Knowing You Are Loved and Adored No Matter What Your Traitor Brain May Tell You To The Contrary


Now that I have the house back to myself, a cup of coffee to warm up the hands and a moment to think, writing for the day can commence. An FYI for all of my Dear Gentle Readers out there, I am going to write a lot today and will be spamming your Facebook and Twitter feeds for a chunk of the day. I am not sorry for it, I just wanted to let you know it was going to happen should you want to mute me for a bit or something, I totally understand I assure you.

So, I fell down the stairs the other day. It’s not that big a deal as I do it at least once a week because this house was designed for persons of smaller stature than myself, and not weight, I mean height. Some of the door frames are barely six feet and, well, I am a little past that, to say the least. I was trying to be careful too. I was walking slowly and all of a sudden I was looking up at the ceiling with a very severe opinion of the construction of the staircase floating around my brain. I am alright mind you, bruised up a little, but nothing too terrible. The worst part is that deep tissue pain that takes forever to go away,it is not particularly pleasant. However seeing as we are going on a week now, it has subsided to practically nothing.

I took Sunday off because I had company at the house, Monday the kids were all home and yesterday I kept the wee lads home because I am a masochist. There is a lot of writing to catch up on and I think it will be a nice day. I may not write a lot as in a lot of different posts, but the posts themselves will be a great deal longer if my brain can make that happen. I am not a fan of diving a thing for the sake of dividing it, so there will be some whoppers out there today I think. Plus, since I keep setting alarms on my phone that I need to write something new, I am going to do that, well I am going to kind of do that. It will make sense, to me at least, when I start it so there is that to consider. I will see what comes out of the brainpan and hopefully.

So, here is the meat of this one.

I have always thought I am a good communicator. I have thought that if nothing else I over-communicate my wants and needs to the other party, but I have been put in a position the last week or so where I no longer feel that this is the case. I have been casting doubt on everything I say, to others or even myself, questioning whether or not it was the right thing to say, in the right tone, at the right time, etc. I know I have a massive inferiority complex, that was drilled into me as a kid so I truly don’t believe I deserve good things, however, I know it is a fallacy so at least it gives me a toehold in the real world to try and change that line of thought, although truthfully I am not sure it could ever be removed completely. So, as my wise best friend told me, some times I have an issue saying what I need, but it is because of the aforementioned inferiority complex. If I do not think I deserve a thing, I refuse to ask for it, it is a vicious circle and I am working feverishly to break that logic loop and make new pathways to things that make a tad more sense to all parties involved.

Now, do I make the changes in how I deal with the complex or do I ignore the complex as best I can and push through it by asking for things, even though it will be a bitter thing to say based on how I feel at my core? Do I rob Peter to pay Paul? It is a thing I need to think about a great deal more before I will have a dynamic plan of action to be sure. Thankfully when you are me and all you do is think, it will be a process I can begin with gusto, well, I already have begun it to tell you the truth. What you just read are my thoughts on the matter thus far. Not a great deal, but enough to say that I have begun ad that there are pieces in motion that will better the whole, one way or the other, before the end of the fight ahead.

I am in need of more coffee I think, my brain is slowing down and that is just not a way I want to live my life today, so I will caffeinate to the highest degree I can before I get to the panic attacks and the migraine from that alone and I will see you on the other side of all of that with some decent fiction if nothing else and, I mean, since I never shut up at all I can almost guarantee you that there will be another thought-based, thinky thought, feelings for all of the world to see post coming before the end of the day.

Oh yeah, one last thing, I love you, you are cared for a cherished and needed and wanted and desired and you are the best you that you can be this moment because you are trying. SO. HARD. You are allowed to breathe, to break, to fail. I will never love you less for it, in fact, I will love you more because you had the courage to stand back up and do what must be done to get you to the place you want to be at.


A Minute Of Your Time Is All I Will Need

This is me, JameyBear

A little something today, but I am going to take the day off to prepare for the snowstorm and all that. I don’t really care that we are getting a foot of the delightful magic cold powder, but apparently it is a thing for other people so I will respect their feelings and not frolic in it naked just right now. I can never promise I will not, I will promise to give it the ol’ college try and see what happens at the end of the day.

I have very strong feelings about this holiday we celebrate today, however, the air pressure dropping with the rapidity that it is currently preventing me from elucidating on the subject matter as I would like and I will write soon how the Bear, the pacifist of pacifists, loves all who have or will serve. Reasons you will suspect, and others you may raise an eyebrow at or the like.

However, my loves, that is for a day that is not today, I am going to go and do the things and prepare and all of those things people in the cold places do before cold places events.